*** 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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Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Sunday, April 22nd 2007
2 pm
The Big House.
Kyle and Cole were exploring the ‘big house’. Or, rather, Cole was exploring and Kyle tagging along purely because he had nothing better to do.
“Bored now,” he said absently, as Cole checked yet another room.
“You’re always bored, Kyle,” the kid responded, continuing his search. He had never had the chance to explore the house before.
Kyle sighed as he trailed after Cole. “Perhaps because you drag me into all this boring crap. Why’d you have to kill Vincent? He knew how to party-” He broke off when he saw Cole’s expression.
“Did you have to bring that up?” Cole asked with a pained look on his face before turning back to his search.
Shrugging, Kyle folded his arms and leant against a wall. “Whatever. Y’know what? I don’t think I like that Alessa much.” Kyle considered, “Just ‘cos she’s got all this money and this big house and is a demon, she thinks she can strut around like boss-”
Again, he broke off. But this time at Cole’s absent expression. “What?”
The kid was staring through the door he had just opened into the room beyond. It was a bedroom, in a hexagon shape with four large windows looking out to the beach. In the middle of the room, a large bed was canopied and decorated in burgundy, pink and cream.
“Cole? Cole?” the older boy said, noticing that his younger companion seemed to suddenly become preoccupied with something else.
“You know, it’s funny. I hadn’t really noticed before,” Cole said absently as he walked into the bedroom, his hands tracing against the walls. “There are none, not a single one in this entire mansion.”
Kyle’s face grew curious, as he brow furrowed in confusion, “A single what exactly?”
Cole didn’t answer right away; he was too preoccupied listening to the resonating energy that lingered to these walls. “There are no pictures of Chance,” he replied, as he snapped his hand back from the wall in disgust. “I guess that’s why,” he sneered.
“Who the hell are you?” Ellis voice sounded in the room, making the two strangers turn towards the door.
He had just got from the airport, and gone straight to the big house, hopeful to find Alessa already home. The moment he’d got inside he had noticed something different, traces of supernatural beings other than his lover. And there they were, a demon and a mage, walking nonchalantly about her bedroom.
Stepping forward into the room, he unbuttoned his jacket, just to have easier access to his gun. “I said, who are you?” he repeated.
“I could ask you the same question,” Cole spat back, a menacing look flashing in his eyes. “And don’t even think about reaching for your stupid gun, because I could deal with you before your finger even reached the trigger.”
“He could, you know,” Kyle piped in, a broad smile crossing his face. *This could be interesting.*
Ellis didn’t even look at the demon; his eyes studied the young mage, recognizing him as the greatest threat, at least at the moment. He may look young but Elllis could sense the power in him.
“I’m not that defenceless myself, kid,” he said and walked a step further. “But before go further into this, I’d like you to answer my question. Who are you and what are you doing in Alessa’s bedroom?”
“I was giving myself and my friend here a tour around the house; I figured it’s best we got acquainted with the place since we’re staying here for awhile,” he answered, not moving an inch in reaction to Ellis’ advances. “And my name is Cole. Now, if you don’t want me and Kyle here to ‘gently’ escort your ass to the kerb, you better tell me who the hell you are.”
*Cole.* he recognized the kid’s name. Of course, Alessa hadn't mentioned the kid was a mage but at least it made sense, his being there. He relaxed slightly, although his eyes still watched Cole warily.
“Well, Cole, nice to meet you. Alessa’s talked a lot about you. I’m Ellis Longwood. I am a friend of Alessa’s.” His tone wasn’t exactly pleased, but he tried to make a good face to the kid.
Cole motioned for Kyle to follow as he began to walk out of the room. “A pleasure to meet you I’m sure,” the mage said, as he bumped the man on his way out.
Ellis was fuming at the boy’s arrogance, but he didn’t have time to voice anger before Cole rapidly spun back around, his face smeared with a look of fury.
“It was you!” Cole spat; the brief contact with the man filling in the missing piece of the puzzle. The energy in the walls, the floor, …the bed, it was him. “How fucking dare you take advantage of Alessa in her situation? Now when she is vulnerable after his death!” he fumed, conjuring up a million spells in his mind.
None of them seemed horrible enough, so instead he decided to see how the scene would play out.
Ellis just stared at the kid for a moment, puzzled by the sudden fury in his sense, then he frowned when he understood what was happening. He narrowed his eyes at the boy’s meddling.
“I don’t think I have to give explanations of my behaviour to you, kid,” he said, striving to sound calm, and trying not to think that he had asked himself the same question until it had stopped bothering him.
Kyle watched with growing interest as Cole’s hands clenched, holding back his power. *Ohhh, the guy’s going to get it.*
“You… you… you don’t deserve to be with her, you don’t deserve to touch her! Who the hell do you think you are? You think you can just take her!?” Cole just regurgitated a string of accusations; at this point he didn’t even know what he was saying.
“You are not half the man he was! No… No not even a fucking millionth what he was!”
That was it, he wouldn’t stay to hear this boy’s accusations and do nothing. He took a step forward, looming over the smaller frame of the boy, his own rage growing in him. The nerve of the kid! And comparing him to Chance, nonetheless!!
“Well at least I’m a man, not some kind of freak like your friend was. Oh, yes, your mighty Chance, so afraid of his inner demons that he just walked away and left her in her worst time of need,” he spat, taking yet another step further. “Thank you very much, I don’t want to be the man Chance was!”
“Boy, are you going to get it now,” Kyle chuckled with surprise, knowing that Cole would not take that well.
He was right.
Never, never could Cole remember being so… so… FURIOUS! In fact, he was so angry, that his brain couldn’t even string together enough words for him to cast even the simplest spell, so instead he took another course of action. His fist shot out, smashing square into Ellis’ eye, causing him to stagger back.
“No! You are nothing like Chance. He was a hero, and he left so he could save the world, you little worm!” the mage screamed, as he began to regain enough composure to become that much more dangerous. “You aren’t even worthy enough to be speaking his name, let alone insult his memory!” A blast of black lightening erupted from Cole’s hands, sizzling painfully over the man’s body.
Ellis’ body racked in pain, as the teen relentlessly bombarded him with his dark magic. Dropping down to his knees from the pain, he tried to claw his way forward, but he knew it was no use, the boy was too powerful.
“Cole? Kyle?...Ellis? Where are you guys?” Alessa’s sweet voice came flowing through the corridors of the house, heralding her return home. “You guys upstairs?” The voice was drawing closer.
Finally, in a moment of excruciating agony, Ellis slumped down as the boy stopped his spell; Cole would not let Alessa see him kill this insufferable man.
“Pretty anti-climatic if you ask me,” Kyle snorted.
Cole ignored his friend’s comment as he stalked forward to the fallen form of his foe. “Listen very clearly to what I am about to tell you,” he started as he bent down and lifted Ellis’ head by the neck, so they could see each other face to face. He began to squeeze harder and grin at the obvious discomfort he continued to cause the man.
“If you ever, and I mean ever so much as think of Chance again, I will end you.” With that, Cole spat a glob of saliva straight into Ellis’ eye and walked out of the room.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Sunday, April 22nd 2007
2:15 pm
With a groan, Ellis rose from the floor where he had fallen. He wiped Cole’s saliva from his face and fought to control himself. He was still trembling from the young mage’s attack, the last tendrils of his dark energy disappearing off his arms and legs but leaving them jellylike.
*Damn, but the kid is powerful!* he thought as he walked to the bed and sat down with a thump. *Too powerful for someone so young,* he mused, trying to think clearly. He was furious, so furious that he’d go running after the boy and put a bullet into his damn magical belly if he just could make his legs function. The little shit had almost killed him and he hadn’t been able to lift a finger!
And all because he thought he had a say in Alessa’s life. From what she had told him about Cole, he had been very close to Chance and even been there when the man died. He could understand his being annoyed, but not that unexpected frenzy or homicidal drive. Ellis had sensed the kid holding back his power and that enraged him even more.
Running a trembling hand through his hair he tried to regain some composure before Alessa got to him. He could hear her approaching, although she had stopped in her way to talk to the two punks. He flinched at the affectionate tone of her voice; she loved the kid, that was clear.
By the time she got to her room, Ellis was standing up and calmer. He wasn’t sure of the ground he stepped around Alessa most of the time, and he didn’t want to put her in a position to have to choose. He would deal with the mage by himself, not from behind her skirts. Cole wouldn’t take him by surprise the next time.
“Alessa! How’ve you been, dear?” he asked the moment he saw her. Walking quickly to greet her, he wrapped his arms around her, breathing in her scent. She smelled of lavender this time, and it had a sweet, wild tang. God, but he’d missed her!
Alessa returned the hug for a moment, resting her head on his shoulder and enjoying the feeling of losing herself in his arms. She moved back after just one moment, though, and she felt his reluctance before he let her loose. However, as always, Ellis only took what she offered, or what he could cajole out of her, and never went forwards past the point where she wanted to stop, physically or emotionally.
“What are you doing here so early? I didn’t expect you for another two days,” she asked, disentangling herself from his embrace to look at him better. Somehow he just didn’t look his usual self, although he obviously was trying her not to notice, and she could sense some difference in his scent as well. *Sweat? Adrenaline?*
“I finished earlier,” he said, which wasn’t completely true, but not false either. He just couldn’t stay away for so long and had delegated the more menial tasks to subordinates.
The demoness studied him a few seconds, and talked again. “Did you meet Cole and Kyle? They said you were up here.” The slight tension in his shoulders told her what she wanted to know. After the incident with Oz two days before, she had been observing Cole, noticing many things about him that weren’t there before. Sighing, she asked. “What happened, Ellis?”
Ellis shrugged. He tried to sound casual. “He just didn’t like our present relationship.”
“What? How…?” She pursed her lips, “He must have sensed it from you, he’s become pretty powerful of late.”
Then she looked at him again. Ellis was a proud man and he could probably take care of himself, but if Cole wanted to get nasty, she didn’t know… It probably had been worse than he was willing to admit.
*That’s underestimating it,* he thought, and approached her again. “What’s he doing here?”
“He came a couple of days ago, and he’s staying,” she said, her tone a little defiant without her noticing.
Ellis nodded; it was just as he had imagined. Well, the little brat would have to get used to having him around then. “How long?”
“As long as he wants, Ellis,” Alessa answered tiredly, still on the defensive, and she knew something was bothering him. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?” she asked, knowing he wouldn’t.
“No, I can handle him,” he answered, trying to sound more assured than he really was. His limbs were still numb after the kid’s attack. “But that boy is likely to hurt himself or oth-”
“I know,” she interrupted him, worried. It was pretty much what Oz had said, and it had began to ring true. She was startled when she felt Ellis held her again, and nuzzle at her ear, his intentions all too clear. “Ellis! It’s the middle of the day!”
“So what?” he asked, before silencing her with a kiss. *Come on little bastard, hope you can sense this!* he thought, tauntingly, before the kiss got so intense that he couldn’t think about anything else.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Sunday, April 22nd 2007
3:30 pm
Alessa watched out of her bedroom window and saw Cole on the beach. The teen was alone, sitting on the sand and looking at the ocean. She quickly changed to more comfortable clothes and left the room to join the kid. Ellis had just left after a call from Mike Coulter and she wanted to use the time to talk to Cole. She wasn’t about to give explanations for her behavior, but she felt she needed at least to tell him how things were.
Fortunately she didn’t find Kyle on her way to the beach, she didn’t want the demon around when she talked to Cole either. She took off her sneakers when she got to the sand and approached the kid silently.
“It’s hard to sneak up on mage, Alessa,” Cole said, not even bothering to turn to face her, “I sensed you, like, a minute ago.”
The boy wasn’t sure if he wanted to speak to the woman now, not after what he’d found out. *How could she forget him so quickly?*
It was a question that he kept asking himself repeatedly since that morning when he’d discovered the truth about her and the Ellis man - bastard. Cole’s feet dug into the sand, as he considered what to do next. He was overcome with the urge to either storm off, or yell, but he tried desperately to suppress them. With all the chaos that was going on, he didn’t want to alienate one of the last friends he had left, so instead he remained calm.
“It’s a nice day don’t you think,” he said blandly as he continued to stare out at the gentle waves.
Alessa looked at the ocean and had to agree, summer was approaching and the weather was getting nicer and nicer. She usually felt better in the hot season too, having being raised in a tropical country. She sat down on the sand beside him, her legs tucked beneath her, but he still refused to look at her. She sighed.
“I didn’t want to sneak up, Cole. I just wanted to talk to you.” Her gaze went to the ocean again. “Both of us have changed much in the last months…”
“Well, obviously you’ve changed,” Cole snorted keeping his gaze ever distant; if he looked at her face, he would inevitably picture the same images he had sensed from the bedroom - dirty, bad images. “I don’t understand how you just can forget about…” He stopped, choking on the next word; it hurt so much thinking about him.
Gulping down the lump in his throat, he tried to change the topic: “Never mind, just forget it.” She could do what she wanted, or rather who she wanted, he had decided not to care any more - of course that’s always easier said than done.
Alessa nodded, and felt a lump in her throat when she started to talk. “I haven’t forgotten Chance, Cole. I’m trying to, believe me, but I haven’t forgotten him.” At last Cole looked at her, and his expression made her flinch. This was exactly what she was trying to avoid, feeling hurt again.
“When I was coming here I kept repeating to myself that I didn’t have to give you explanations, that I didn’t mind what you thought about me.” She paused a moment. “But I do. I care too much about you not to. What I have with Ellis… it’s purely physical, Ellis helps me forget.” She just needed to believe that.
She gave a humourless laugh, the meeting with Stuart Montrose coming back to her mind, as it had countless times since Saturday night. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? I’ve forgotten what I want to remember and I can't help remembering what I want to forget.”
“You shouldn’t want to forget him,” Cole said bitterly, as he once again turned away from her.
The two sat there for a while, the crashing water the only sound disturbing the peaceful spring day. It was a needed silence; had either of them spoken too soon, it was sure that something regrettable would be said.
“What did you mean by that?” Cole asked finally, “Not being able to remember something?” He wasn’t sure he cared all that much at the moment, but at least the question would break the awkward silence.
Alessa looked at him, as grateful about the change of topic as he was. Then she processed his question and frowned. “I thought you knew,” she explained, “I can't remember anything about the time I was lost.”
They never really had talked much about that time, and for an instant, Cole felt very guilty. All this time, he had been so self involved, that he didn’t bother to find out how she had been dealing with that whole ordeal.
“The entire time you were gone, you can’t remember any of it?”
“Not a single bit, I remember being in London, and then waking up in a plane with Inés, Daye and the others. What little I know we’ve reconstructed by Inés’ link to my thoughts in Colombia and Ellis’ investigations in London. That’s how they found me.”
She sighed, trying to block what she had recently learnt. Besides, what could she tell him? *I don’t remember anything but I have the growing suspicion that I was a whore to a bunch of Watchers?* She still needed to see proof of that; she wouldn’t just accept it, especially something so… ugly. And the last she needed now was Cole’s pity.
“Daye said there was some kind of spell blocking my memories, but I'm not so sure now,” she said instead.
*Spells eh?* The boy remained quiet for a moment, his feet continuously pushing in and out of the sand. Despite his present anger with her, he did owe Alessa a lot and if he could do something to help her, he would.
“Maybe I can be of some help with that.”
Alessa looked at him for a minute, fighting between the need to know the truth and his learning what she was trying so hard to hide. Finally she nodded, it was worth the risk.
“I’d appreciate it,” she said.
“Then let’s go inside and I’ll get ready,” Cole said as he rose to his feet, but Alessa padded the sand, imploring him to sit.
“There is something else I need to tell you,” she said smiling. “Something about Vincent.”
The boy did not sit, but instead remained motionless, unsure what Alessa was going to say next - what could she say?
“James came by the other day looking for Vincent. I couldn’t hide what happened, so I told him about…”
“About Vince’s death,” Cole finished for her, his voice rather emotionless.
“Yeah. But, but he said that Darlome could still feel him, he’s still alive.”
Cole’s bright blue eyes widened in shock as he tried to process what he had just learnt. It didn’t make sense, he had seen the body skewered on a spike, and there was no way Vincent could survive that. “It’s impossible, I saw him die.”
“Well you must have been mistaken, because James was adamant about it; Vincent it still alive.”
If that was true, then the boy had one more enemy to worry about. Vincent would not doubt be looking for blood, and would try to even the score. *Just let him try,* he thought, as his mind drifted to the Seal he had stolen from the magic store.
The teen turned his attention from his thoughts back to Alessa, and put on a rather unconvincing smile. “Well that’s great, I’m glad he survived.” Cole abruptly began to walk back to the house, as if not wanting to continue the conversation further. “Well, shall we get the spell underway?”
“Uhh, yeah, ok,” Alessa replied. She knew something wasn’t right, and she guessed he was worried about Vincent. However, she was a little bewildered by his reaction. She had thought he would be more pleased with her news, relieved at not having killed his friend. *That’s really strange…*
**An hour later, Longwood Estate***
“Just close your eyes and relax,” Cole commanded, as he lit the last of the nine blue candles that surrounded the plush living room couch. It was not the most ideal place for a spell of this calibre, but barring Daye’s apartment, he just didn’t have access to a better place.
Moving to the side where Alessa’s head rested, he withdrew a small willow branch wand and placed the tip gently on her left temple. With his free hand he withdrew a fresh handful of lilac pedals, and allowed the tiny buds to fall on Alessa’s face. “
Clouds and fog be parted: What is unclear be still,
He began the incantation, repeating the chant over and over. Alessa could feel the magic reach into her as it swirled and whipped across her mind, struggling to find what was taken from her.What is forgotten; unveiled.
It is my will, that she now see,
By Apollo's light, so mote it be.”
She shuddered.
It was not the first time Cole had used his powers on her, but this time it was different. The magic he tapped into was dark, ancient and frightening, not at all the same feeling she had when he used to gently heal her after a night of hunting.
Cole continued for what seemed like an excruciatingly long amount of time, until, to her relief, he stopped abruptly. “It’s not going to work, I can’t seem to break whatever is blocking it,” he said apologetically as he took a seat next to her and rested his head against the soft back.
Alessa wasn’t sure how to react. On one hand, she was disappointed he couldn’t return her lost memories, but on the other, she wasn’t sure if she could take a second more of those dark energies coursing through her head. And he didn't seem to have nothiced anything else.
“It’s ok, Cole. At least you tried,” she said, her voice raspy in her dry throat, her head starting to ache now that the magic was dissipating. She felt tears come to her eyes and fought the feeling of helplessness. “Could you… could you feel anything?” she asked, hopeful still, *Something to prove Stuart wrong?*
Cole took a moment to collect himself from the tiring magic, before turning to address her.
“Well obviously there’s the magic that’s blocking your memories, but actually, I felt something else. Well, at least I think I did. It was almost as if there was some foreign presence lurking around in your system, but like I said, maybe it was just some backlash from the spell. I can’t be certain.”
Alessa frowned, and massaged her temples. Something else? That wasn’t what she had expected to hear. She felt anger rise in her again; not only had her memories been tampered with, but there was something else creeping around inside her? Damn it. No wonder she wasn’t feeling herself lately.
To him she smiled weakly, “Let’s hope it’s the latter then, but it wouldn’t be strange that there was something else, actually. I can’t remember anything, but I know I wasn’t in a tourist resort, enjoying the Colombian beaches.”
“Give me time, I’ll do some research and see if I can figure out a way to work it all out,” the boy said as he yawned, stretched, and rose to his feet. “Ok, I think I’m going to go take a nap. I need to rest up for tonight, got some things I need to look into.”
Alessa rose as well and looked warmly at the kid; he looked tired all right. “You do that, I’ll have some coffee ready for you get up.” She took his hand and squeezed it gently. “Thank you for trying, Cole.”
The boy just squeezed back and left the room.
[/]Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Sunday, 22nd April 2007 – 6:12am
The sun was just beginning to peek over the edge of the Earth as Delancre’s private plane took off from Los Angeles. Strapped into her seat across the aisle from Delancre, Tash gazed at the sight of the pink and orange streaks of light advancing across LA towards the ocean as the land dropped away beneath them.
“I just have one question,” she said, “Won’t this plane take, what, nine or ten hours to get to Colombia? It won’t give us much time there, if we’re coming back here tomorrow night.”
Delancre smirked. “Oh, it won’t be taking us nearly so long to get there. The aeroplane is merely an aid to our travel, not our sole means. Sympathetic magic, you see,” he explained at Tash’s puzzled look. “This jet comes equipped with a device imbued with magic; it will trigger when we reach a certain set altitude and enfold space around us. We will travel much of the distance in less than the blink of an eye. It is, of course, quite expensive to maintain.”
“Wow,” was all Tash could say.
Then they reached 20,000 feet and her stomach seemed to turn inside out, and she suddenly understood why Delancre had suggested she not eat breakfast before travelling. As it was, the cup of coffee she’d gulped down threatened to slosh its way back up her gullet before reality returned with a snap. She sat, gasping in her seat, and looked across at Ambrose who – apart from a slightly green cast to his colour – appeared unaffected.
“One gets used to the turbulence,” he commented. “But look,” he continued, gesturing to her window, “and you’ll see we’re coming over Colombia now.”
When Tash was able to focus her eyes enough to glance out the window, the day certainly seemed far more advanced than it had been. Where it was just dawning in LA, here it was approaching mid morning. The sea had changed colour to a deeper, richer blue, and the greens of the approaching land were also much, much darker than the dirty grey-green of Los Angeles and surrounds.
Less than an hour after they’d taken off, they had landed on a tiny runway nestled against the jungles of Isla Nublada. Two servants greeted them, and hefted the sealed box from the plane’s cargo bay.
“Careful with that,” cautioned Delancre. “It’s to go straight to the laboratory.”
Bowing their assent, the demons scurried to do their master’s bidding, while Delancre held out a hand for Tash. “Welcome to my island, Natasha. First let us have brunch and then I shall grant you a tour.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Sunday, 22nd April 2007 – 4:25pm
Isla Nublada – 4:25pm Colombian time
1:25pm Los Angeles time
Finally extricating herself from the guide who had been assigned to her, Tash roamed the compound looking for points of interest. Delancre had shown her some of it, then had palmed her off onto the most infuriatingly slow-talking demon as a guide while he attended to ‘personal matters’.
Now she was sticking her nose into corners where neither Delancre nor her guide had taken her. Already she’d found a second set of laboratories, separate from the ones where Delancre had shown her how they spliced the DNA of various demons to create new, improved warriors. And he’d shown her the operating theatre where demons underwent surgical alterations to give them better inherent weaponry.
But he hadn’t shown her this lab, where the researchers seemed to be working on a microbiological level. Improved drugs for the conditioning programs, perhaps, she surmised. Or maybe it was some new method of improving the performance of his soldiers. Whatever it was, those working within the lab weren’t inclined to answer her questions, and she couldn’t tell just from looking what it was they were doing.
Then she’d found the holding area, where demons in the process of being conditioned were held. Crammed into cages, many of them hissed and growled gutturally at her. She spotted a couple of demon species that she knew were placid, peaceful types normally, and was impressed with how aggressively they snarled at her. *I really have to find out exactly how he transforms them,* she thought, *If I’m to have any success against him I’ll be needing my own demon army…*
Then her wanderings took her behind that area and she slipped through a doorway to hide when she heard a familiar tread approach. Peering through a crack from the darkened room she was in, she spied Delancre coming up the corridor with a smile of complete satisfaction on his face. His hands looked odd somehow, but it wasn’t until he passed right by her hiding place that Tash realised he had flecks and smears of blood on them.
Once he was gone, she slipped back into the corridor and followed it, retracing Delancre’s steps. Soon she found herself nearing a guarded door, and the demon before it growled at her.
“This area’s off-limits. Leave.”
Tash fixed the guard with a baleful stare and said, “The Lord Delancre sent me to see to the prisoner,” she said, hoping her deduction as to the area’s purpose was correct.
The guard hesitated, then muttered, “I’ve not heard…”
“He only just passed me in the corridor. Surely you’re not so dim-witted you’ve forgotten he was just here?”
Shaking his head, the demon replied, “Yes, yes, he just left. But…”
“Then you shall let me in. Or shall I fetch the Lord Delancre and tell him that you were blocking me from fulfilling my task for him?”
“No, no, no. No need to do that. It’s all right, Ma’am,” he said, nearly dropping his keys in his haste to open the door.
He bowed low, waiting for Tash to pass through the door, and looked up with puzzlement creasing his forehead when she didn’t budge.
“Keys?” she queried impatiently, then dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Sir Ambrose has decided that it’s time the prisoner was processed – but I can’t very well do that if there are still locks in place, can I?”
“Ahh…” The demon winked at Tash. “I knew his Lordship would put him back to work one day. Weeks he’s been in there, eating all our food… well, sometimes he’d get food. Other times we made him eat his own faeces.” The demon threw back his head and laughed, “That’s always fun. So he’s to be processed, is he? I see. Do you need help escorting him out?” he asked eagerly.
“No, I think I can manage one scrawny prisoner by myself,” Tash smiled, “But I appreciate your enthusiasm for your job. I’ll see to it that his Lordship hears of your dedication.”
“Oh, no, no, that’s all right. No need to be bringing attention to a lowly servant like me. Just happy to be doing my job,” the guard replied, just a little too nervously.
He handed Tash the keys and ushered her through the door, happy to be rid of her and hoping that the Lord Delancre would continue to ignore his presence. One lesson all the servants learned very early on - don’t attract attention to you in any way. The master was too capricious.
Closing the heavy door behind her, Tash wrinkled her nose at the smell that emanated from within the prison area. The lighting in here was harsh and bright, and made her squint. One hour in here would be enough to give someone a headache, she thought, let alone weeks. Finding the prisoner she was after wasn’t difficult. The small recessed areas off the corridor were arrayed like cells, and there was only one with an occupant.
He lay on his side, curled up into a foetal position with his arms curled up over his head. A slight whimpering noise emanated from the emaciated frame and fresh blood smeared the blue fur on his body.
Tash folded her arms and stood before the cell. “So, who are you?”
The creature startled, his head coming up sharply to see what new torment was about to be visited upon him. But the woman he saw standing there was unfamiliar to him. He scrabbled back as far as he could, his whimpers growing louder.
“I won’t hurt you,” Tash said softly. “Who are you, and why is Delancre holding you here?” If it turned out the demon had merely looked at Delancre the wrong way, she would simply leave. But some instinct told her this prisoner was more important than that.
“Pain, pain, always pain. He went, long time, but back now. More pain. Pain, pain.”
Tash sat on her haunches, bringing herself closer to the demon’s eye level. “Please, I might be able to help you. Who are you, why are you here?”
Shaking his head and muttering, the demon finally whispered, “Pelor.”
The name meant nothing to Tash, but beneath the confusion and the fear of pain she could sense something important underneath. For just a moment she saw Alessa’s face, and another piece clicked into place.
“Pelor, I’m a friend of Alessa’s. Do you remember Alessa? She was here, for a while, at this compound.”
Pelor moaned, hugging himself tightly, “Alessa, Alessa, oh Alessa. Pain, pain, pain.” Suddenly he looked up at Tash, his deep azure eyes clearing for a second. “Friend to Alessa?”
Tash nodded, “Yes.” The images were coming through much clearer now, and she was glad she hadn’t had to go inside the cell and rip the memories from the demon’s brain.
“Yes, I’m her friend. You helped her, didn’t you? You helped her get away from here. And Delancre’s been punishing you ever since.”
“Pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pai-”
“Yes, pain,” Tash cut in, not wanting to lose the delicate thread of Pelor’s sanity. “But that pain will be over soon. I can help you, get you out of here.”
Pelor’s eyes brightened. “Alessa’s friend, here to rescue me?”
“Yes, to rescue you. Alessa’s friend. But I need to know some things before I can free you.”
Those deep blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Alessa’s friend won’t trick Pelor?”
“No, I won’t trick you. I promise I’ll free you, Pelor. Do you know why Alessa may have begun to act strangely? And is it something she could have passed on to others?”
Pelor rocked back and forth again, but moment by moment he seemed to be growing stronger. “Alessa’s sick. But Alessa’s friend will free me first. Then I’ll tell you.”
Sighing in exasperation, Tash stood up. Why not free him first? It wasn’t like there were many places to run to from here. And she sensed in Pelor a desire to help, if only for Alessa’s sake. He had been Alessa’s friend for a long time, it seemed. She drew out the keys and found the one that would unlock the cell door.
Smiling almost in disbelief at his good fortune, Pelor crawled to his hands and knees, and Tash offered him an arm to help him stand. He shuffled out of the small cell and stretched, the marks of ill-use clearly visible on his skinny torso.
He smiled at Tash. “Thank you, Alessa’s friend.”
“Tash. My name’s Tash,” she smiled in return.
“Then thank you Tash. I will tell you what I know. Before I came down here, I knew of a virus that nyssat ensekelo had created.”
Tash didn’t speak Brashnak but she guessed the words were uncomplimentary, especially with the way Pelor practically spat them out, and knew who he was referring to. “Go on,” she urged.
“It’s called Hyde 232. It attacks people who carry mana in their bodies. Demons, witches, sensitives. It stops them from feeling guilty, takes away their conscience. They only do things for themselves. They no longer care about others. They turn bad.”
Tash frowned. She'd not heard the term mana before, but Pelor’s description led her to believe it related to that quality she could see in the auras of those types he’d listed. It did sound an awful lot like the sort of things she’d seen with Daye, and Alessa, and Kate, and Nikolai, and Cole – all of them with that certain something in their auras. They’d all begun behaving very oddly, turned their backs on the White Hats. It made sense, given the effects of the virus – none of them wanted to do anything for the good of the group any more, so they left it.
“Anything else?”
Pelor nodded. “I didn’t know more than that until I helped Alessa escape here. I didn’t know it, but then that nyssat ensekelo told me he’d infected her before she left. That he wanted her to escape to infect some people called the ‘White Hats’ so they wouldn’t be able to organise against him. But even though he wanted her to escape, he still punished me. Pain…”
Tash almost laughed at the simplicity of it all. “Of course. And when I turned out to be immune to it he brought me into his fold, to keep me isolated from the others and to keep an eye on me. That’s why he wasn’t as upset as I thought he’d be when the group broke up.”
Pelor broke off from his tortured recollections to stare at her. “You’re a White Hat?”
“Yes, and now I understand why everyone turned against me and left the group. Well, almost everyone. Not all of us got sick, Pelor. Some of us are still ourselves. Still good. But I’m already working against Delancre, Pelor. He wants to use his army to rule.”
“Rule who?”
“Everyone. But I won’t let him,” Tash said determinedly. “Just one more thing, is there any cure you know of?”
Pelor shrugged, “I’m not sure. But I did hear the scientists talking about mana draining. They said if someone with the virus lost all their mana the virus would starve and after a day or two the person wouldn’t be evil any more. The mana would come back naturally, but more slowly.”
Tash was impressed. “How did you learn all this? You’re not one of the scientists.”
“No, but Alessa freed my mind from the nyssat ensekelo’s training and then I started to snoop around and learn things. Nobody pays attention to a mere servant,” Pelor said with a mixture of pride and disgust. It was a tricky combination to manage, but somehow he pulled it off.
Tash took a moment to digest what she’d just learned. *So, Delancre’s made this virus that he’s used to disrupt anyone who might oppose him. The only way to make them good again is to drain their mana – however that’s managed. But while they’re evil they’re all off doing their own thing and staying out of his way. Hmm…*
“Yes, I’m sure this information will be very valuable for us in LA,” she said to Pelor. “Well, we’d better see about setting you free then. They think I’m transferring you elsewhere, so walk in front like you’re my prisoner and we’ll get you out of this place.”
Pelor nodded and turned, beginning to shuffle towards the door and freedom. Then he jerked and looked down to see the point of a blade sticking out through his chest, thick crimson blood beginning to run down his torso.
He half turned to Tash, croaking, “Why?” before toppling to the floor, the knife hilt protruding from the centre of his back.
Tash knelt beside him, watching his breath slow and his eyes begin to glaze. “Can’t have anyone else knowing how to get rid of this thing. I might find it quite useful myself, you know? And I did keep my promise. I’ve set you free.”
She smiled beneficently at his now still form. “And I’m a woman of my word.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Sunday, 22nd April 2007 – 4:58pm
Isla Nublada – 4:58pm Colombian time
1:58pm Los Angeles time
Tash quickly reached out to Pelor’s dead form and lifted his arm, slashing his hand across her cheek as she called out, “Guard! Come, quickly!!”
She was back on her feet and standing, letting blood ooze from the deep scratches on her face by the time the guard lumbered through the door and took in the scene.
“Damn bastard tried to get away. I threw my knife after him hoping to wing him, but I’m afraid I may have killed him,” she explained. Stalking to the corpse she glanced down at her handiwork and made a disgusted face. “I’d best let Lord Delancre know.”
The guard mumbled something and let her pass, not envying her when she had to explain herself to the master, though clearly it was a case of trying to halt an escaping prisoner. Kicking the body he growled, “How dare you scratch one of his Lordship’s friends?”
Left alone with the corpse, he began to wonder. If the dark skinned woman was a friend of his Lordship, he might get into trouble for not coming into the cells with her to ensure her safety. His Lordship had been known to exact severe punishments on those who displeased him. Pelor’s extended sentence was a far worse fate than any death ever suffered at Delancre’s hands. By the time Delancre came to investigate, the guard was swearing up and down that he’d come into the prison after Tash in order to ensure her safety.
“Pelor is, after all, a cunning bastard and prone to trying to trick people into thinking he’s weaker than he really is-” He glanced sideways at the still form, “-was. But since the lady was a friend of your Lordship and looked very capable, I stayed by the door. When Pelor viciously attacked her and tried to escape I was too far away to help out, but your Lordship picks his friends very well. She’s such a good fighter, quick reflexes. She had that knife on its way so fast you couldn’t blink. And it’s just as well, ’cause otherwise Pelor would have escaped. Not, mind you, that I couldn’t have stopped him myself. But-”
“Yes, thank you. That will be enough.” Delancre thought if he had to listen to one more babbled sentence from the demon’s mouth he would have to kill something.
He cast a sharp glance at Tash who bowed her head. She’d admitted to seeing him leave the area and being curious about who was being held. And she’d said that Pelor was raving incoherently and hadn’t said anything sensible, just muttering Alessa’s name over and over. It was consistent with Delancre’s own experience with the creature. Then she’d said she’d opened his cell in order to try to read him, but hadn’t even laid a hand on Pelor when he’d assaulted her and fled. The guard’s semi-comprehensible ramblings seemed to corroborate the story, even.
Unable to find a justification for his suspicions, Delancre sighed. “Well, I was about to have him terminated anyway. Though I would have liked to do it myself,” he said pointedly.
“I’m sorry, I really am,” Tash said, “But it all just happened so fast… I really did aim not to kill him.”
Delancre merely grunted. Storming from the cells he gave Pelor’s body a disdainful glance. “And throw that thing away.”
daye kills the demon
*** Sunday, April 22, 2007 5 pm ***
*** Daye’s apartment ***
*Yes, he is close to revealing his truths. Do not falter, my child.*
*She is not your child! Please, Amanda, stop. You are killing this creature. He will not tell you what you want to know. You cannot bear his death on your soul.*
*Her soul is not your concern any longer. Give up, Erin…Amanda is not yours any longer.*
*I shall never give up on my daughter. If you would just go away, you… false goddess!*
*How dare you, insolent bitch. I am a God!*
*You are a petulant, powerless child.*
*A God!!! I am a God!!!*
*Child.*
*God!!!*
Daye struggled to maintain her focus. The spell she was working was a precarious one, causing pain to the subject, torture to get him to reveal the information she sought; information which the Claza clan of Yaslin demons were paying her very well to obtain. The Claza were one of the most powerful demon families in the Southwest. They were like the Corleones, lording over the other powerful families in this part of the world, and controlling many underground interests. Their attention was a boon for the witch, and earning the good favor of the Claza’s matriarch would bring her more business than she could probably handle on her own. She’d be turning clients away if she could only do this right.
The problem, of course, was her “mothers”. Their advice, their threats, their bickering grew more and more insistent, more and more distracting every day. She had been able to suppress them, to bury them beneath the powerful voice of the magic, but the last few days it had grown harder and harder to do. Now, even with the power filling her, she could hear them in her head. She couldn’t push them aside, and they were a dangerous distraction.
And the emptiness, the loneliness of her new life - that plagued her as well. She’d cut herself off from her friends, her family, everyone and everything she knew. It had felt good to let go, but now she was left with nothing. The fleeting fulfillment of the magic was not enough to stave off the bewilderment she now felt. She sought companionship in the form of nameless, faceless men, night after night. Many men, on many nights, who would satisfy the dark cravings of her body but never touched the empty places inside. She was restless once more, and growing more desperate by the day.
Daye knew why the voices grew louder. She understood why she was less and less in control. It was the dreams. Erin and Mariah plagued her asleep as they did awake. They both possessed some power over the dreaming world, and though Daye herself was mistress of that place, she could not banish them. They sent her dream after dream. Erin’s were at times beautiful memories of the life she’d left behind. Those images only made her ache all the more. At other times, she felt the horror of the things she’d done to isolate herself. She had a glimpse of the friends she’d hurt, of the pain she’d caused.
Mariah’s dreams were so different. They were about the power she possessed. They were full of pain too, but it was exquisite pain. In those images, Daye saw the goddess she could be; the dark ruler flaunting her power over those that writhed below. Her friends… her loves… they were there in Mariah’s dreams as well, but they served and suffered in silence and there was no sorrow. In Mariah’s dreams there was only a sense of gloating, an arrogant pride. Daye awoke from those feeling more confused and lost. She couldn’t enjoy the power, because she felt dead inside a little more every day.
So, Daye had stopped sleeping. She dozed in fits and starts when she couldn’t go any further. She was exhausted and weakened, but she feared sleep too much. This was taking its toll physically as well. She couldn’t eat, and she didn’t sleep. Her hair hung lank and lifeless down her back and her skin was pale. Her eyes were shadowed and she’d begun to lose weight. She looked, ironically enough, a lot like Kate had the last time they’d met. Of course, Daye didn’t let on to anyone the struggle she was in. She couldn’t afford to shake the confidence of her clients so, although it taxed her even more, she maintained a carefully constructed glamour that made her appear as healthy as ever.
Daye was, of course, not thinking of these things now. She was struggling with the magic, fighting to restrain the power. Too much power in the wrong place and it would mean failure. The slightest loss of control would overload this demon’s body and he would die, taking the secrets the Claza sought with him to his grave. That was not what Daye meant to happen. So she fought.
The voices in her head were distracting, pulling her focus away as they screamed at her and at one another. Daye struggled, but it was impossible to maintain perfect control and anything less than that wasn’t going to cut it. For the slightest moment, that control slipped and that was just enough. Daye yelled in frustration as the demon’s body bucked and a strangled cry came from his lips. The light his yellow eyes emitted faded to black and she knew the demon was dead.
“Shut up!” Daye yelled to her “mothers”. She knew, of course, that it was no use. They ignored her, beginning to argue about the demon’s death, the implications and causes.
Daye fell to the floor, clutching her head and crying softly. She just didn’t know what she could do, but if she didn’t do something soon she would be in a great deal of trouble.
daye calls marcus for help
*** Sunday, April 22, 2007 10 pm ***
*** Daye’s apartment ***
Finally, she’d found something that worked. Daye was so relieved. She had found a way to shut out her “mothers”. Sitting cross legged on the floor, Daye was deep in “the dreaming”. She saw in her mind the clearing from her dream and the dark path. She could see her mother, Erin Blaise, standing before the transparent door, shouting at Mother Mariah. Daye herself stood a few feet away. She imagined a box of glass and placed it over Erin and Mariah, pushing it to the corner of her mind. One moment she heard them arguing, and the next there was finally blessed silence. Daye nearly cried in relief.
There was a small problem. She couldn’t maintain this mental shield all the time. It was hard to control and demanded a great deal of focus. She would have to release it when she worked other magic. It would be too taxing. But, at least this way she could function. It was a way, an answer of sorts, but she would have to find something more permanent.
“After I deal with this mess,” Daye said to herself, opening her eyes and slowly rising to her feet. She couldn’t hear her “mothers” now, but she could still feel them pulling at her. She would have to find a better way. As soon as she fixed the mess with the Yaslin demon. A mess she’d need outside help to fix.
“But I know just the guy for the job,” Daye smiled wickedly, recalling Marcus Dalton and his particular gifts. This little job might still work out for the best. Heading out to the front office, she retrieved Marcus’ card and picked up the phone, feeling better than she had in weeks.
***
Marcus glanced at his watch as his Rolls Royce negotiated late night L.A. He was going to be late for the session with Kate, but unfortunately Daye had been somewhat insistent that she needed his help with something. Now, Marcus didn’t want Amanda to think he was at her beck and call but on the other hand he would want something from her in the very near future. A small favor now, liberally seasoned with a dose of ‘inconvenience’ would make things more pleasant when he asked her for assistance with Wolfram and Hart.
The car glided to halt just outside Amanda’s apartment building, which looked no better in shadowed street lighting than it did in daylight. Smoothing his features he got out, ascended the couple of steps to the entrance and with a faint smile at Onyx, who followed him, pushed the intercom.
Daye jumped up at the sound of the buzzer and pushed the button to open the door. She didn't even bother to check first. It was Marcus.
Feeling really good, Daye went to the door and opened it, waiting at the doorway for the necromancer to make his way up the elevator to her floor.
Stepping out of the lift Marcus smiled when he saw Amanda. She was dressed as invitingly as she had been the last time they met, when he picked up the charms for his inspection team, and her pose in the doorway suggested sensuous indolence with just a dark undercurrent of power.
“Amanda,” he leant forward and brushed his lips across her cheek, “So nice to see you again.”
Daye was filled with warmth at the sight of the handsome necromancer. There was finally peace in her troubled mind and very soon she would make amends for the mistake she'd made with the Yaslin. Things were definitely looking up, and for the first time in weeks she felt genuine interest in the man before her.
"I'm so glad you could come on such short notice, Marcus," she replied, stepping aside to allow him and his companion entry into the shadowed apartment. "I hate to inconvenience you. I hope you believe that. But I simply couldn't imagine anyone more qualified to help me with my little problem."
“No, I quite understand, certainly I doubt there’s a more qualified necromancer around.” Though that bit of vanity aside, if Onyx was correct any half assed practitioner with the right spell could raise a Yaslin. Unless this particular example of the species was more powerful than usual Marcus expected this to be as routine as the raising he had done for Mr. Andropov.
“And don’t worry about the inconvenience. What would I be if I couldn’t do a small favor for a friend?” Taking a moment to glance over the apartment again Marcus settled his thoughts and then turned back to Amanda. “So, where is the client?” he asked with a touch of gallows humour.
"Right this way," Daye replied, leading Marcus into the back room, where the unfortunate Yaslin still lay sprawled rather ungracefully on the floor inside the now broken circle. The room itself was in some disarray. Daye had lashed out after her crying jag and left behind a mess of broken bottles and shredded fabrics. She stepped inside and glanced guiltily around.
"I'm afraid I may have let my temper get the better of me when the bastard went and died so inconveniently," she sounded chagrined.
“I quite understand. It can be irritating when people inconvenience you.” Marcus ignored the rest of the damaged furnishings and wondered how to approach this - the casual competence he had displayed for the Russians, or would something grander be in order?
He decided on something a little more involved. Looking round the room he spotted a black candle half burnt down, and scored where flying debris had damaged it. *Perfect.* Setting the candle down before him, Marcus held out a hand to his demonic servitor.
Onyx handed him a lighter and Marcus turned to Daye. “Did he have a name?”
"Ta'akel Nor," Daye replied. "He was legal advisor to the Claza clan."
Daye didn't say anything more. She stepped into the corner of the room to give Marcus room, and she settled back to watch. The prospect of such dark power fascinated and aroused her.
“Ta'akel Nor, you are called to serve,” Marcus placed the light to the candle which lit immediately, “Attend me.”
Marcus’ power flowed out, over and around the demon. Unlike in the lessons with Kate he did not repair the damaged threads one at a time but in a single pass. Considering the repair of its form unnecessary Marcus thrust his power into the place where Ta’akel Nor’s spirit once resided and animated the corpse.
“I am called…” The demon’s voice was hoarse and sibilant, completely at odds with its natural tone.
“Heed me Ta’akel. This witch has questions. You will answer. You will not lie nor dissemble nor evade. You will answer to the best of your knowledge.”
Marcus turned to Amanda, “Ask him what you need.”
Daye nodded, swallowing hard. She found Marcus utterly enchanting like this, at the height of his power. She focused her attention on the demon.
"Ta'akel Nor, you betrayed the Claza and stole from the family. You alone know the codes to the accounts that hide the Claza's money. What are those codes?"
Daye held in her hand a pad of paper and a pen. As the demon replied, she wrote quickly. In moments, Daye had the information she sought. She stepped back, clutching the paper close to her chest. She waited to see what Marcus would do with the demon next.
“Rest Ta’akel. Your service is done.” Marcus reached down and pinched out the candle’s flame. All semblance of life fled the body before him. Marcus held out the light to Onyx. “Thank you.”
The demon took it with a nod.
Turning to Amanda who still stood quietly in the corner, Marcus said, “Well, that was simple enough.”
Daye nodded in response. "Apparently, and yet I would have been up a creek, so to speak, without you."
Daye smiled appreciatively at Marcus, laying a hand on his arm. "I really, really appreciate your help. If there's anything you need... anything I can do for you..."
“Oh don’t mention it. “ Marcus leant forward a little, “Though I must congratulate you on those charms of yours. They worked perfectly.” He motioned with his head to the door back into the main living area. “Shall we?”
They walked back into the more elegant surroundings and Onyx moved towards the door. “Yes, Wolfram and Hart’s old building is quite sound. I’m just waiting for the payments to go through. This means, of course, I’ll need a more permanent solution to its problems."
"Well, I'll be happy to help you with those 'problems' whenever you're ready," Daye said. "I'm looking forward to it actually."
Daye paused in the middle of the living room, letting her gaze roam over Marcus for a moment.
"Of course, there's no reason why we have to wait for business to see one another, Marcus." Her voice was a seductive purr, "If you're... amenable, we might actually consider a meeting of a more social nature..."
“Perhaps a little of both.” Marcus threw a glance at where Onyx stood by the door and sighed, “I’m sorry Amanda, but I have something else I must attend to tonight. Otherwise, I would love to discuss things with you.” He paused, “However, I have found a wonderful little restaurant and I have nothing on my schedule for tomorrow. Would you be agreeable to a working lunch? Not too much work I promise.”
"That sounds delightful," Daye agreed. "And I understand that you have more pressing matters to attend to now. Tomorrow would be just fine."
Daye led followed Marcus to the door after arranging to meet him for lunch the next day. She waited until he was gone to relax, though, dropping the glamour with a sigh. She stopped only to put out the candles in the various rooms before heading to bed.
"I'll hand Ta'akel over to the Claza in the morning," she murmured drowsily as she fell into the first decent sleep she'd had in weeks.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
***April 20th, 2007- Hollywood Hills- 3:31 pm***
Mr. Bing and Mr. Cutterback glided through the Watchers’ Council LA Headquarters with ease, each of their steps synchronized. Each of their briefcases was in their right hand, swaying back and forth with the rhythm of their steps. There was a gleam in their eyes as they passed their fellow Watchers.
They stood in front of Delancre’s office and eyed his frail, engrossed secretary, who was ripe out of ‘college’. The young demoness grabbed a half empty bottle of Diet Coke and took a quick sip, cringing at its flat taste. She then looked up to the business figures through her thick black frames that she passed off as glasses.
The men smiled at her, with Mr. Cutterback asking politely, “Would it be too much trouble, ma’am, to inform the Lord of our arrival?”
The secretary nodded her head, her scarlet curls bouncing. She arose from her desk, placing her Diet Coke down as she murmured, “Of course, of course.”
The young demon walked to the door in quick procession, and knocked softly. The familiar booming voice answered the weak knock, “Enter,” to which the thin girl disappeared behind the thick door.
Her low voice was evident as she talked with Delancre, “Mr. Bing and Mr. Cutterback are here to see you, my Lord.”
“Let them in.”
The girl reappeared, moving aside, indicating that they were allowed in. They nodded their heads and strolled in, the secretary closing the door behind them.
Delancre sat at his desk, an air of elation about him. Ana’s strength against Tash’s friends was remarkable, confirming that he had raised a great fighter and leader. But, for now, Delancre focused his attention on Mr. Bing and Mr. Cutterback. He was interested in his assignments for them.
“You have come back with a manner of pride. I take it that the missions went well,” the First Elder began, his voice as clear as a bell.
On cue, the men smiled. Mr. Bing cleared his throat and spoke, “Mrs. Calendar, who is currently four months pregnant, has successfully been obtained and is currently sedated in the back of the car of which we arrived in.”
Delancre nodded his head as he listened, and calmly responded, “Good, good… I assigned this to… what was it... ah yes, eight days ago. It took you a week and a day to kidnap a gypsy socialite?” His chilling words sent chills through Bing and Cutterback’s spines, sweat forming about their brows.
The First Elder rose from his seat and walked to his office window and looked out, observing his troops. He let out a stressful sigh and continued, “On the other hand, gypsies are hard to get hold of, those greasy bastards. Besides, what matters is that you have obtained her. I hope eradicating Father Jarek wasn’t as troublesome.”
Cutterback lowered his head and took in a sharp breath. Delancre knew immediately what it meant. “I assign you the simple task of ‘taking out’ a sixty-four year old Polish priest, and you still manage not to accomplish it. This is very disappointing. I hope you two are happy with yourselves; you have officially ruined my good mood.”
The men dropped to their knees, their heads facing the floor. They put on a pathetic display as the men switched back and forth pleading for mercy, “Lord Delancre, please find it within your generous self to forgive mere creatures like ourselves-”
“Even though we do not deserve it-”
“But we ask it. Please do not remove us from your good graces. Let us live, my gracious Lord-”
“Let us prove our worth to you, my highest Lord-”
Delancre grunted and shouted at the men as he turned about, his face a glowing scarlet, “Get a hold of yourselves, you wretched, pitiful, disgraceful excuses for humans!” The men looked up, fear tracing their faces.
The First Elder calmed himself down, his natural color returning, and continued, “You have proven your worth to me already. I shouldn’t have trusted the matter of exterminating to men of your calibre. No, that will be Ana’s job. But I would rather not have her bothered with someone as insignificant as Father Jarek. He’s growing quite old; he’ll die on his own. However, I would like you to tell my secretary to relocate Mrs. Calendar to a spare room here. All her exists are to be sealed, and the room is only to be opened for feeding her, bodily needs, and when I call for her. If she is experiencing pregnancy problems or needs medical attention in general, a doctor is to be sent there.
“As for you two, I want you to continue your original assignment of locating mages. But before that, I want you to check up on the ones you infected and write of their results. You are to leave in… ten minutes. My secretary will prepare the private jet to be started up. Just tell her your first destination and she will tell the pilots. Now that we all have that worked out, I would like to rest up a bit.”
Mr. Bing and Mr. Cutterback rose and bowed before him. Before they turned their backs, Bing gathered up an ounce of courage to ask, “My Lord, when will you be contacting Mr. Saracens, so I can tell your secretary to prepare a meeting?”
Delancre leaned his head back, his eyes gazing at the ceiling. “Two weeks. I want Christophe to sweat through every one of his pores, his wife to cry out every gram of liquid from her body, and for Mr. Calendar to become a nervous wreck, shaking and crying every time he thinks of or sees a picture of his wife. Yes, two weeks will do,” he announced.
The men bowed their heads again and replied, “As you wish, my Lord.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Monday, April 23rd
2:30 pm
Longwood Inc. offices, LA
Alessa walked towards into the Longwood Inc. LA offices with a hurried pace born of familiarity. She nodded to the security guard near the elevators and shouted to the people inside to hold the door for her without any luck; the doors silently closed as she got to them. Irritated, she quickly inserted her hands between the sliding doors and with little effort opened them again, entering the almost empty elevator with a sweet smile.
“Thank you very much,” she said ironically to the surprised people inside and again not getting any response. She sighed. Americans were indeed ‘quiet’.
By the end of her ride she was alone in the stall, and had time to inspect herself in the big mirror before the doors slid open, facing Ellis’ secretary’s desk. She straightened her blue linen skirt and silk blouse and tightened the high pony tail, ruffling the curls falling charmingly down the back of her head; as usual lately she had taken enough care in her appearance to look casual. The outfit she was wearing was simple but much more flattering than the jeans and sweaters she had used to wear all the time. She sent a last approving glance at her reflection before leaving the elevator and smiling her way to Ellis’ office.
She paused outside it and opened the door softly, peering inside before entering, but as with Cole the day before Ellis sensed her immediately and rose from behind his desk to greet her. Alessa smiled, but vowed to talk to Inés; she should practice hiding her thoughts and emotions along with her morphing. Then she noticed Mike Coulter sitting in a chair in front of the desk and greeted him too.
“What was so urgent, Ellis?” she asked, denying him the perfunctory greeting kiss and instead sitting on the corner of his desk, leaving him no option but to return to his chair. She felt a little vindictive; he had been very cryptic when he’d called the Armoury asking her to meet him here and giving no explanations. She had spent the whole morning speculating about this meeting.
The man didn’t seem fazed, anyway, and sat down joining his hands in front of him and admiring the expanse of leg that Alessa’s position allowed him to enjoy. He threw a quick glance to Mike and found the other man doing just the same. Frowning, Ellis fought the sudden jealousy that enveloped him.
“Mike,” he said a little too loudly, but getting the other’s attention, and therefore Mike’s eyes off the girl’s legs, “has something to show you.”
“Oh? Do tell me, Mike,” Alessa asked, trying to hide her smile at Ellis’ obvious discomfort. She crossed her legs for a better display, and leaned on her knees towards the older man.
Mike smiled and rose from his seat with the doctor’s reports in his hands. His eyes twinkled as he appreciated Ellis’ possessive glances and Alessa’s mischievous ways. Trying to avoid being caught watching her again, he shoved Alessa off the desk with a casual movement and opened the folder as excuse. The demoness jumped off her seat with a graceful motion and leaned over the papers fanned over the desk.
“This are the reports on Ellis’ tests. The ones he had done last month?” he asked. At her knowing nod he went on, telling her what Dr. Sloshein had found out. He could see that Alessa kept nodding as he talked, as if confirming her own theories, but he didn’t ask her anything. The demoness seemed deep in concentration and kept going about the papers when he stopped talking, a frown on her pretty features.
He looked at Ellis and saw that his friend was intently looking at Alessa too. The day before, when he had called Ellis to tell him about the analyses, he had been somewhat afraid of his friend’s reaction, but fortunately Ellis had found the news relieving, since it confirmed there was something actually making him act strangely. They had decided to ask Alessa take the tests too, since her memory loss could be linked to the same problem.
“He considered it a mystical problem, then?” she asked, finally, her eyes still on the reports.
“Aye,” Mike answered, “a physical problem, actually, but the cause seems to be mystical in nature.” He fumbled with the folder again, till he found a more recent blood analysis result. “There are some traces in the blood too, it seems like a virus is creating all this havoc.”
“A virus?” she asked, frowning, looking at him in the eye.
“There are some changes at genetic level that can only be originated by a virus attacking the cellular structure of his body. It attaches to the cells, steals the DNA it needs to reproduce - this is how viruses work, or so Dr. Sloshein explained to me - replicates and dies. The toxic by-product of its death is the toxin that affects his limbic system.”
“But that’s a physical reaction, I mean, it’s a ‘virus’ for Christ’s sake! Why do the doctors speak of a mystic nature?”
“Well, mostly because there’s not a single virus that affectst the limbic system the way this one does, and they can’t really determine what the thing is really eating.” Mike's voice was steady but it was obvious that he had given the issue much thought. “It seems to work as a perfectly normal virus but at the same time there are anomalies; for instance it doesn’t seem to be contagious. If it weren't for the memory thing we wouldn't be linking it to you either.”
At her questioning gaze he added, “Yes, I took the tests, as did several other Longwood employees, and none of us have it. If Ellis is infecting others he didn't infect those in the office.”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Ellis interrupted, and Mike looked at him, startled at the anger in his voice, only to see his friend blush at his outburst.
“I’m sorry,” Ellis hurried to say, “Alessa, we wanted to talk to you about taking the tests, just to compare the results with mine. With your amnesia, and this virus or whatever affecting memory, we wanted to …” Then he stopped, confused. “That is, if your body’s anatomy compares to humans.”
“In human form my anatomy is that of a human through and through … and of course I’ll take the tests. Any thing that would help us understand this… thing. Besides, there is more than just the memory thing, I haven't been acting myself lately either...” She looked up from the folder and smiled, but the smile didn't get to her eyes. “Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”
She tapped her fingers on the polished surface of the desk, lost in thought for a moment. “Which reminds me, Cole tried to cast a spell on me yesterday… to restore my memory. He couldn’t; but he said there was something more in my mind, something magical lurking around.” She raised her eyes, worried, “Maybe it’s this same thing?”
Ellis tensed at the mention of Cole, but before he could talk Mike answered her.
“It could be. However, we won’t know more till you take the tests. I’ll talk to the doctors to do it as soon as possible.”
Alessa nodded, “Thank you Mike. As I said, you just tell me when.”
Then she looked at Ellis again. “There’s something more I wanted to tell you about too, do you know a Watcher called Stuart Montrose?”
“The name sounds familiar,” he answered. “Why?”
“He contacted me with information about Isla Nublada last Saturday. He said he was a Watcher and that he was worried about some things happening inside the Council. He didn’t give me many details, but I’m seeing him again tomorrow. He’s going to bring me some files.”
Alessa spoke nonchalantly, her voice steady and calm; she didn’t want Ellis to notice her distress about the meeting with Stuart Montrose. She wouldn’t go telling about his news until she was completely sure it was true. Fortunately, for once she was able to hide her emotions from him.
“Ha! He wouldn’t be the first!” snorted Ellis, before turning to Mike. “Would you check on him?”
Mike was already leaving the room. “Consider it done. Good day, Alessa.” He said and closed the door after him.
As soon as Mike was gone, Ellis turned to Alessa who was looking through the window to the city below. Her brow was furrowed and she seemed concentrated on something.
“So, you are seeing this man again?”
“What?” she said, startled. “Oh, yes, I’m seeing him tomorrow. He’s bringing me some files-”
“I’ll go with you,” he stated. He didn’t like her talking to a Watcher, not with all these things about the Council going around.
“No, you aren’t,” she answered firmly. “The man contacted me, and I’m handling him. Besides, he looked harmless,” she added, guessing Ellis’ worries. But she didn’t want him around in this meeting, not with what Stuart had to say. *Besides, you aren’t going to Chance me around, not you too,* she thought, but didn’t say.
“Watchers aren’t harmless,” Ellis pressed, but at the hard look in her eyes he gave in, although not easily. “At least let me wait for you at the car-”
“I don’t need bodyguards, Ellis. I can take care of myself.” She smiled, and went on placatingly, “You just wait for me at the hotel. I promise to go there afterwards.”
Ellis walked towards her and put his arms around her waist, “I just worry-”
“-about me, I know. Don’t,” she said, leaning on his chest. “I can take care of myself, you know?”
He nodded and just held her for a minute, then he asked, “What were you thinking about? When you were looking out of the window, I mean?”
Alessa frowned, surprised, then she focused on her previous line of thought. “The Dobrytampesky.”
“What?” It was Ellis’ turn to be surprised.
“The Dobrytampesky. It’s an order of Jewish exorcists... I met some of them when I was in Prague in the 60’s.” She didn’t have to tell him why she had been there, Ellis knew of Morris’ obsession with magic. “Your father told me that one of them had settled in San Francisco some years ago. He's a Private Investigator, or something like that. I can't quite remember his name, though.”
“I know who they are, but I thought there were none left alive…” Ellis moved away from her, furiously thinking about the possibilities. “Do you think a Dobrytampesky could help us with this?”
“Well, they are exorcists after all…” she said, shrugging.
“Yes,” he accepted, “but they are also demon hunters.”
“It would be worth the risk, don’t you think? If he can get this… magical virus out of us.”
Ellis cocked his head. Alessa was too calm about it, but she was a demon and the man was a demon hunter, which could prove to be a problem. However, he could approach the Dobrytampesky himself and test the waters before introducing Alessa to the equation.
Finally he nodded, “San Francisco, you said? I’ll have my secretary look for him.” He chuckled, “You don't think he’d be listed in the yellow pages, do you?”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Monday, 23rd April. 19:10
Simon Hedge Investigations, Downtown LA
The match flooded the otherwise dark room with a momentary flicker, followed by the steady, smooth glow of catching embers as Simon took a long pull from his pipe. He was exhausted. The job occupying the last fews days was just too ridiculous to be believed; some poor slob had ordered an "antique Jewish wine cabinet" off Ebay (http://tinyurl.com/yv5d2), and the thing'd ended up being host to a dibbuk.
When the house started reeking of cat piss and jasmine, and an heirloom set of Star Trek commemorative dishes flew crashing into the television, the gent had decided to call an expert. The now clean box sat in the corner of the studio apartment, but dealing with the tentacled pustule had awoken memories the mage had hoped would fade over seventeen years. Try as he might, Simon couldn't shake the dull glazed expression on Avram Kuze's limp face. He never did find out if the boy had survived his ordeal...
Reverie aside, an itch at the back of his brain told Simon that something was very goddamn well afoot in the greater Los Angeles area. He'd had very little time to dig for answers while jobbing for coffee and raman money. Another slow drag puncuated a decision to close appointments for a few days to allow for research...
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Monday, 23rd April 2007 – 10:45pm
The plane touched down, one of its passengers feeling distinctly more queasy than the other. Tash doubted she’d ever grow used to such travel, and prayed she wouldn’t have to take this trip again. She much preferred her bike as a mode of transport, even if it couldn’t get from Los Angeles to Colombia in less than an hour.
She gave Delancre a wan smile and gathered her overnight bag from its locker. In addition to the items she’d brought with her, it now contained some precious cargo. In the times she’d been able to escape Delancre’s presence, she’d managed to obtain not only copies of what she believed was the formula for Hyde 232, but a vial of the substance itself. In addition she’d found some notes on methods of eradication, which she had copied just in case she ever found the need to cure someone of the disease. The virus could prove very useful to her in the coming months, especially if she encountered resistance to her plans for taking down Delancre.
And speaking of such plans, she’d found what she thought might be the last piece of that particular puzzle, the key to Delancre’s choice in coming to Los Angeles in the first place. There was something he needed, that he still didn’t’ have. It was such a small thing, but so vital to his plans. And it was the scope of those plans that truly took her breath away. She’d assumed from the outset that Delancre intended to rule the underworld, to subjugate the demons and bend them all to his will, killing those he couldn’t control. But that, it turned out, was merely the beginning.
Sir Ambrose William Bryce Delancre III intended to become a god.
It was ballsy, to say the least.
His plans to dominate the entire Earth rested on that one thing he didn’t yet control, though Tash was sure he must know where it was. There was probably some ritual or other that had to be performed to make it all work, and Delancre was doubtless biding his time, not wanting to tip his hand too early. Besides, there was still a certain amount of resistance to be overcome.
And now that Tash knew what Delancre’s true aims were, her own ambitions seemed somewhat pale by comparison. Still, there was always the opportunity to use the item herself, provided she could find an apt sorcerer to perform the magical side of things. Reluctantly, she pushed that thought aside. It would be months before she was ready for such a move, if ever. For now, she must concentrate on toppling Delancre from his perch.
By finding out about Hyde, and how it was cured, she’d made some progress there. And at least she’d cut off that loose end that might have somehow upset her plans by giving her sick friends the information they needed to get well again. The last thing Tash needed was for them to suddenly start caring enough to stick their noses in where they weren’t welcome. Yes, Pelor’s death had removed that one, albeit remote, possibility of disruption.
Isla Nublada
Tuesday, 24th April 2007 – 1:45am Colombian time
While Tash was busy musing on her plans as she exited Delancre’s plane, a small movement disturbed the insects that buzzed around a pit dug into the rich earth of the jungle island. The winged creatures descended once more, only to veer upwards again as the movement grew more pronounced. Atop the pile of corpses one emaciated form stirred, azure eyes opening onto the darkness of night.
Pelor groaned softly, but dared not make any more noise for fear someone might hear. Slowly consciousness returned to him as his body left its protective near-death state and Pelor’s heart began to pick up its beat once more. A flash of memory made him wince. The dark-skinned woman – Tash – who had claimed to be a friend of Alessa’s, had stabbed him. He felt his chest, where a scab was forming over the deep wound.
She’d stabbed him in the back, nearly killing him. If not for his species’ ability to drop into a death-like coma while the body repaired itself, he may well have been dead by now. As it was, minute by minute he felt more able to move. He tested his arms and legs, and each functioned. He breathed deeply of the night air and almost gagged on the sickly sweet stench of putrefying corpse.
“Gah!”
He clapped a hand over his own mouth, hardly daring to breathe while he listened to see if anyone had heard and was coming to investigate.
Nothing. Letting his breath out in a long sigh, he struggled to his hands and knees and began to crawl. He knew where he was: the open grave that was kept on the edge of the compound. If he was stealthy and lucky enough, he might get over the wall and escape.
Inch by painful inch he dragged himself out of the pit, and finally reached the wall. Lying at its base he stared up at the impossible height and wept.
*Alessa. I must warn Alessa. Her friend Tash must have the virus. But he says Alessa also has the virus. What if she tries to kill me, too?*
Pelor nearly gave up then, nearly returned to the pit to die. But Alessa had helped him, had risked much for him, and if nothing else he had to find a way to repay her.
Dragging himself upright, he found a tree close to the wall and scrambled to find handholds. Finally, after many painstaking attempts, Pelor eventually reached the top of the wall and allowed himself to drop to the other side. Gazing up at the stars, he realised he was truly free for the first time in… Well, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed while he was ‘working’ for him.
Now he just had to find a way off this island and reach his goal. Los Angeles.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
22 April 2007
Nikolai’s Apartment
8:20pm
Nikolai looked at the magical books strewn across his coffee table, all on loan to him presently from Kate. He’d asked for a few texts to go over in detail, asking if he could borrow them as he didn’t want to be around many other people right now. Kate had agreed, fortunately, allowing him to return to blessed solitude.
Now a number of those texts lay open to various pages. Books that Kate had used to study at Sindell, notes were scrawled in the margins, sometimes indexing to other texts, sometimes the half-prepared ingredients of spell. A few diagrams here and there as well. Looking for any clue about ‘mana’ or ‘life-giving’ elements.
It was obvious that this would take a while, and already a notebook started to fill with references and excerpts, something to let him put the pieces together. Trying to throw himself into the task helped him to focus, and not to worry about what he must tell Alicia when he finally saw her again.
As it was, he was discovering the pains of research, trying to cross-reference three different books at once. How anyone ever trained to become a witch was beyond him and why didn’t she warn him that she sometimes thought in Latin, he wondered as he came across another note in the margin. *This is not helping any. I don’t even know Latin.*
Nikolai suddenly looked up at the sound of a knock at the door. It was late and he wasn’t expecting anyone, some of the old methods coming back. Casually he tossed a glance towards the pistol sitting on the table before rejecting it, moving back towards the living room. Looking through the peephole, he forced a smile. “Hello, Simryn,” he said, noticing that Vivek was not there.
He could tell from the way she was dressed and the emotions surrounding her that there was only one reason she would be there.
Simryn watched the Russian carefully. For the past month, they had been tracking the leader of a coven that had been dealing in blood sacrifices; each time they thought they’d come close but every time he had evaded their grasps. But not tonight. Tonight they would be done with this affair, and the innocents whose lives had been forfeited for this man’s greed would be avenged.
She’d come to know Nikolai as a man who could be both gentle and ruthless when the situation demanded it. When he needed to take life, he proceeded to do so in a calm, detached manner. Now… something seemed different about him tonight, sadder.
“Good evening, Nikolai,” she replied, turning the foreign name over in her mouth. “We think that we have finally found the man we are looking for.”
Nikolai nodded politely. Concern came from her, and he knew that she’d picked up on the change. How ironic that while he’d got to know her so well in battle, the him she got to know was the basest part of him. He glanced outside, looking for Vivek, and wondered where the man was. *Probably getting the last things ready.*
“Yes, well, I should talk to you about that,” Nikolai said steadily, trying to keep his voice from breaking. “Please, come inside, and don’t mind the cat; he thinks rules the universe.”
Simryn hesitated, “I-”
“I know, you’re going to object,” Nikolai sighed. He could feel her unease and hesitation before she spoke. Only the problem was he wasn’t sure how to tell her what he needed to, not in public. “We have to discuss some things, Simryn. Things better not discussed where people not used to odd matters can hear.”
Her gaze darted past him, to the inside of his apartment. It was much like her own in most respects, small yet comfortable, though it seemed a rather innocuous setting for the man she’d come to know. “We must leave soon,” she said quietly and he nodded silently in understanding but didn’t move either away or toward her.
Simryn kept her distance though she felt an almost overwhelming urge to reach out and comfort him.
Besides the ingrained social stricture of her people, much of her reticence was due to his manner. Nikolai seemed restless and there was a light in his keen gaze that troubled her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear what he apparently needed to say.
They might have stood there forever but Simryn couldn’t deny this small request; after all he had done to help her when she’d been barely a stranger to him. As if sensing the outcome to her internal struggle, Nikolai stepped back from the entrance to let her enter.
Nikolai felt and looked confused when she came in. He knew that she was concerned, but… how to tell her about the problems? Though she had been speaking about Alicia, Kate’s words came back to him. The truth was the best place to start. After offering and getting something to drink, Nikolai paced nervously for a minute.
Simryn looked about to say something when he finally turned to her. “Let me tell you a story,” he said. “I promise, I’ll be brief.” She studied him carefully a moment before nodding, knowing somehow that he was about to tell her something important.
Sighing, the Russian surrendered himself to the inevitable. “Once there was a man,” he began. “He did many, many terrible things. Until one day the man changed. He developed the ability to literally feel the emotions of other people, and a new respect for life. Only it wasn’t to last.
“The man fell ill, with something that infected his body and soul. He returned to the old ways. But then all of a sudden… he woke up. In a single moment of clarity, he realised what he’d been doing, and so escaped the grip of this illness for a short while. The guilt… over things he’d done…”
Nikolai couldn’t take it any more. Damnit, why did it have to be tonight of all nights? Unable to resist any longer, he plopped in the chair. Tolstoy bolted out from under it, shooting across the room to look at the pair of people there.
Sensing the frustration coming off him in altering waves of dejection and anger, Simryn watched him as Nikolai looked everywhere but at her, running his fingers roughly through his hair and muttering unintelligibly under his breath. Her eyes softened; he looked so young and unsure of himself… she knew that the ‘story’ he’d just told her was about himself and now she could finally understand the pain she sometimes saw in him.
It was the guilt that ate away at your soul, for the things you did… or didn’t do; and who could know how that felt better than her? Standing up, Simryn took the step that placed her directly in front of him and gently placed her hands on his head, smoothing down the dishevelled strands.
Instead of pushing her away as she was half expecting him to do, Nikolai let out a sigh and leaned forward to lay his head against her belly, his hands coming to rest on her waist. Simryn was shocked by the intimacy of his actions; it had nothing to do with lust or even love but a comforting companionship that had long been missing from her life. She pulled back so that he had to look up at her, their eyes studying each other with a mixture of embarrassment and wariness. Nothing she said or did would absolve him of his guilt - the only thing she could do was let him know that he wasn’t alone.
“Let me tell you a story,” she started softly, echoing his words, “Once there was a woman who did many terrible things, and she felt no remorse because she always believed that she was fighting for what was just… but one day her whole world changed, and she realized that what was just wasn’t always what was right.”
Her fingers traced the strong lines of his face and smiled sadly, “And no matter how much one might wish it, the past cannot be changed. So you see, the only thing left to do is live in the present by always honouring what has past…” He reached up to cup her hands in his and she knew it was to comfort her, she whispered “There is a war going on around us, we do what we can, what we must.”
Nikolai was unsure exactly what he could say to that. It was true that there could be something like a war going on, but it was probably not the one she expected. Only try as he might to tell her the truth, he threatened to slip into the old ways. What was one of Sabarov’s lessons? Never tell the truth when a lie will do.
But something seemed wrong about his standard fare with Simryn. She didn’t seem the sort who he could get away with the combination of bald-faced lies, half-truths, and innuendos of the sort that could keep someone guessing for hours.
“I wish I could continue,” he said carefully. “But I don’t know if I can fight any more, not in that way. There is enough blood on my hands that – I ordered the death of my friend, Simryn. I denounced my father to the Committee of State Security, resigning him to a slow death in the gulag in Siberia. To have killed… murdered… not for honour, or country, or any high-minded set of ethics. Just for money.
“Do you know what it is like, to do such things? To order them done, and worse? How can such a person be worthy of anything, of any kind of trust? I’m sorry, Simryn; even if I were sure of my abilities and capability to be of any use to you, I do not deserve the honour of fighting by your side.”
Simryn stopped some in surprise as she considered him. It was much worse than she thought, he was a man who carried much about him – but also a repentance. A desire to do well, a worry that he would revert to these old ways again. That was what he was saying; and in that moment, she felt that she understood him better than she ever had before. “You truly wish to change from how you were before?” she managed to ask.
“Yes. Of course.”
That was enough for Simryn. They couldn’t change the past, no, but there were other things that could be done. “Then I would be glad to have you continue to accompany me, Nikolai. It is how you will honour your past, by not forgetting what you were and allowing that to guide your growth.”
Nikolai looked at her deep in thought, before slowly standing next to her, holding her hands. There was something about her, an understanding, almost… was it a forgiveness? No, that wasn’t it but there was something about her that made him feel closer to her. “I suppose you do have a point,” he said, looking into her eyes.
For a moment they looked at each other, before he acted without realising what he intended to do. Stepping closer into her arms, Nikolai enfolded her into a close embrace, waiting to see what she would do.
In that instant, Simryn felt as if she had been pushed off a cliff and was plunging headlong into some unknown place. And then she felt the pulsing of his heart beneath her palm and she could not resist leaning into him, resting her head on his chest and letting that steady beat resound within her. Reminding her that she… that they were both alive.
For now, but soon they would be facing down another enemy and despite both their skills, who knew what might happen. Feeling suddenly desperate Simryn wound her arms around Nikolai’s neck, fitting her softness against the hard planes of his body. Breathlessly pulling him closer, she brushed her lips against his in an invitation as ageless the first man and woman.
Nikolai was shocked at first, though then he fell into a surprising ease with the woman. As they pulled each other closer, he deepened the kiss with her. The world seemed to vanish completely, in a way he hadn’t thought possible. It was as though he had returned home at the end of a long journey.
When they pulled away, a small part of his mind reminded him about what he had with Alicia, but that was buried. Destiny, rightness, closeness. It didn’t matter what you called it, he thought. The only thing that mattered was the other person.
He held her close when they broke, gazing into her eyes. Something within stirred again, more than mere passion. Suddenly they were kissing again, trying to pull each other closer and be reunited. The desire continued to rise between them, as they collapsed down on the couch together.
Simryn reveled in the feel of their joining. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so alive, not even with… Nikolai’s lips caressed the sensitive curves of her neck, and any thoughts flew from her head as languid heat engulfed her senses.
As her nails dug convulsively into his shoulders, Nikolai abandoned himself to the other, losing whatever mental barriers might have prevented him from going any further. Their panting breaths sounded loud in the sudden silence and the only other sound was the rustle of their clothes as their bodies rocked together in sinuous accord.
The loud knocking on the door crashed around them and Nikolai and Simryn leapt off the couch awkwardly, looking at each other in what might have been, under other circumstances, a humorous situation.
“Are we going or what?!” Vivek hollered from the hall, his voice a mixture of frustration and anger. It also sounded as if he knew very well what had been going on in there only seconds earlier, and Simryn fought to contain her mortification as Nikolai made his way to the door.
Nikolai regretfully got up and started to head towards the door. Business interrupted again, but the unfortunate voice of Vivek would prove an annoyance. It provided the catalyst for part of the virus to take hold again as the door opened. “Why, Vivek, what a pleasant surprise,” he said with a false joviality. “We were just talking about you.”
Vivek looked past him to Simryn. For a moment he wondered if his instincts had betrayed him and he had the wrong impression. “What is the hold-up?”
Nikolai quickly walked over to the table to pick up his pistol, holstering it as the lies came to him quickly. “Why yes, I was in the middle of some routine firearms maintenance when Simryn arrived. We thought it prudent to finish first and just wondered why you weren’t looking for us.” There, he thought, that lie should cover everything well enough. Including the embarrassment, he hoped.
Vivek narrowed his eyes at the Russian man but refrained from saying anything - though the excuse Nikolai had given was plausible, it had been said too slickly to be completely trusted. Simryn feigned a cough, drawing the men’s hard gazes away from each other.
“We should go,” she said unnecessarily. As she walked past the two men, her sensitised skin brushed against Nikolai in the narrow doorway and she shivered. Noticing her reaction, Vivek’s features hardened and he turned down the hall causing Simryn to grimace. He was acting as if he disapproved when it was really none of his business.
“I think you’ll be needing this,” Nikolai said, bending in a swift, fluid motion to pick up her sword and belt that had mysteriously fallen off during her ‘visit’.
“Thank you,” she said with a telling flush. Nikolai smiled knowingly, his flashing eyes promising a completion of what had begun between them.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
22 April 2007
Nikolai’s Apartment
11:37pm
Nikolai groaned again, feeling like every join in his body ached. It was bad enough that to even get up the stairs, he had to rest with an arm over Simryn’s shoulder and be half-carried up them. Vivek glared at them the whole time with his normal accusatory glance, though the fact that Simryn was favouring one of her arms made him slightly more sympathetic to their situation.
Eventually they managed to convince Vivek to wait in Simryn’s condo while she helped Nikolai hobble back his place despite his protest that he could hobble the necessary thirty feet to the bathtub to soak. Not that the protests worked when he found himself being half-dragged into his condo by a woman who could easily break him in half if she so desired.
“I shall tend to your wounds,” she said, softly but firmly pushing her way past Nikolai into his rooms. His shirt was partially unbuttoned and Simryn motioned for him to remove it and sit on the bed. He moved without his usual grace to comply and once he was shirtless the Kshatrani could see the bruises already darkening on his body. She bit her lower lip, distressed that he had been hurt because of her. No matter that he had wanted to fight by her side, she should not have let him get involved.
Simryn uncapped the ointment jar in her hand and the musty scent of cloves filled the room. “This will help to ease some of the pain,” she said rubbing it gently onto his skin.
Nikolai groaned as he felt her work on his muscles, the pain actually soothing some parts. Then suddenly he winced out loudly, “OW!” He felt her concern rise within her and answered before she even asked the question. “I’m all right, it’s just that my shoulder is especially sore.”
With a few well-placed nudges, Simryn got Nikolai to turn over flat on his stomach and sat with her hip pressed against his side as she tended to his sore shoulder. The heat he exuded was intoxicating, and she found herself leaning into him, till what was supposed to be detached nursing turned into long, slow caresses.
Nikolai’s breath hitched. Guiltily Simryn realized that her task was over and she’d simply been running her fingers over him for her own pleasure. Capping the jar, she held it still in her lap, “Thank you for what you did today,” she said softly. Suppressing a groan, Simryn forced her tired muscles up till she was sure she could stand without falling over.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” her voice quavered with uncertainty, after all she had endangered his life that night, “Sweet dreams.”
For a minute he just lay there until the full knowledge of what she was saying sunk in. “Wait, please,” he said, standing on aching bones which finally ceased their protest. The woman turned back to face him again. “Please… stay. I should try to do something to help with your injuries as well, Simryn.”
Unable to resist his offer to minister to her similarly, Simryn drew her hair down so that it fell in soft ripples past her shoulders to reveal the row of strings tied down her back that held her chemise in place. If not Nikolai, she would have needed Vivek’s help to untie them, as the muscles of her arms and back were too sore for her to reach them without aid. One by one he pulled the strings loose until she could push the sleeves down and remove it completely with only her hair to cover her nakedness.
Nikolai made a point to look away as she down on the edge of the couch, out of respect for her beliefs. The small amount of embarrassment she felt was clear to him, though she relaxed as his hands found the ointment and began to work on her back. He worked slowly on her back, pausing whenever he found a particularly vicious knot to work on it for several minutes.
“I’m sorry,” he said when he accidentally pushed down on a bruise too hard. Simryn sighed and relaxed as his gentle ministrations returned, feeling a shiver pass over her body. Looking at her, he felt something familiar again… like he’d done this before, though in different settings. The thought of a forest or jungle, something, after battle came to him, and he suddenly stopped, deep in thought.
She had been dreaming, of… other times and the verdant colours of her homeland and a familiar tender smile. It was strange that she could no longer remember exactly what her lover had looked like. So many centuries had passed and now… another figure was inexorably taking his place within her memories.
Nikolai’s sudden stillness alarmed Simryn who had been feeling much too languid beneath his supple fingers. When she looked up at him tentatively there was a mystified expression on his face that made her feel more vulnerable despite the fact that she was half naked in front of him. With downcast eyes she roughly snatched up her chemise, holding it in front of her like a barrier.
Her voice wavered when she finally asked, “What- what is wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said, looking away from her to save her the embarrassment. It seemed strange that he should think about such settings, and the heat involved there. The closest he’d ever come to that was Sicily, which was actually quite temperate. “Just... memories…” he said, not entirely sure why.
There was such honesty in his stark voice that Simryn could not have left his side even if she’d wanted to. She understood what it was like to be haunted by memories. But the best thing about Time was that it dulled all but the most mortal of wounds.
“Tell me,” she said, drawing him back down to the couch, hoping her expression didn’t reveal the deep yearning she always felt in his presence. It confused her as much as it excited her and she wasn’t sure if it was just because she missed that level of intimacy with another person; she didn’t like to think of herself as that petty. And besides that there was something about Nikolai, the way he moved her that… she was so scared to trust a hope: That the reason she was drawn to him ran much deeper, winding down through eons to join them in this time and place.
Nikolai sat as she’d asked but his body was turned ever so slightly away from her, his gaze still not meeting hers. Simryn noticed his reticence and stiffened, her pride pricked. “You might as well tell me now, or I’ll have to get it out of you,” she said waspishly, her fierce temper aroused further when he raised an impudent eyebrow at her.
She’d never been able to refuse a challenge and before Nikolai knew what was about to happen, Simryn had pushed him over on the couch, leaning over to straddle his hips. Her enhanced strength gave her a slight advantage and she laced her fingers with his to hold down his hands, though he didn’t seem to be fighting overmuch. It was hardly subtle, but at least she had his attention.
Nikolai grunted when the cushion of the couch resisted him before relaxing. There was a sense of urgency to the whole thing, which he couldn’t explain or care to at the moment. He moved his head up the necessary three inches to kiss her deeply, letting the passion grow between them. He could feel desire radiating from her, but more than that, a different kind of affection from what he’d experienced before: love, but something more.
His fingers steadily disengaging from hers, his hands trailed around her back, sending a shiver down her body as her breath quickened. The Russian met her eyes and saw a reflection of himself, overcome by that feeling of rightness and continuing from before. “Doing this,” he said softly, running a hand lightly up her spine.
With the woman’s breath quickening over him, he reached up to brush her hair away before she leaned down to kiss him deeply again. Her body pressed into his, enjoying the feel of being so close without barriers between them.
The feel of Nikolai was incredible and Simryn surged against him desperate to be as close to him as possible. It was alarming how much she wanted him considering they barely knew each other. “Kyaa karaheho mujhe?” she asked, too agitated to be able to put the question in English.
Neither was she able to recognize that all the psychic shields she’d constructed were tumbling down around her and Nikolai heard clearly in his mind, ‘What are you doing to me?’
Luckily, he was too caught up to notice and he would’ve answered aloud except that Simryn’s hands began to work their way down his body. Her lips were swollen and damp from his kisses, and she gazed down at him with sultry eyes. He continued to watch with glittering eyes as her hands roved over his body.
With a wicked smile Simryn dipped her head to drop soft, moist kisses along the path made by her hands down his chest and lower across his firm belly. When he moaned Simryn returned to slant her lips across his, to draw the sound of his pleasure into herself.
Nikolai coaxed Simryn for several minutes, finally getting the pair of them off the couch. With barely contained passion, they collapsed on the bed in the bedroom, not even bothering with the lights. As the heat rose between them, they pulled frantically at the final barriers before coming together in an intimate union.
Their lovemaking was hot and wild, but there was also tenderness and everything else she had dreamed of during her long waiting slumber. When finally they lay replete in each other’s arms, Simryn found her restless mind wandering over how he could not already know what… who he was to her, and she to him. Unable to find answers the steady beating of Nikolai’s heart soon lulled her to sleep.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
23 April 2007
Nikolai’s Apartment
1:15pm
Tolstoy watched impatiently as Nikolai paced back and forth.
“God damnit, Garak, where the hell are you when I need to talk to you?” he asked in Russian. For half the morning Nikolai had been disturbed greatly about what transpired the night before. Oh, he’d gotten Simryn out all right, but he had made love to her and slept in her arms. One thought started to occur to him: what would he do if Alicia ever found out?
There were so many things in his mind that he needed to sort them all out. It wasn’t until later in the day that his strange spirit guide even occurred to him. Normally by now he would have been facing down Elim Garak, making his innuendos at him about everything. “Garak! Get out here, you’re supposed to be my spirit guide for this. Well, fucking guide me!”
Suddenly he stopped as the thought occurred to him.
Meditation.
Nikolai spent about forty-five minutes setting things up. Not that there was much to do, aside from making sure that everything was off. Most of that time was spent trying to find some kind of music to help him relax. Sitting on a chair in the sunroom, he put on a bit of quiet classical music.
Closing his eyes, Nikolai tried to relax. Taking a moment, he cracked his shoulders with a loud pop before relaxing. Slowly breathing in and out, establishing a steady rhythm as he relaxed each muscle one at a time. Thoughts left his mind, and eventually even the music itself began to fade from consciousness. The soft cushions of the chair began to harden, and he felt himself enter the familiar dream state, though he didn’t know how long it took.
“You can open your eyes now,” he heard the soft voice come.
Nikolai opened his eyes and looked around at the small outdoor café where he sat, nobody paying his companion at the table any attention. How strange it would have been, he wondered, if his guide were visible to others. “Oh don’t be surprised about it actually working,” Garak said, at his obvious surprise. “It is your mind we’re in, after all. Of course, you usually aren’t the one who starts these things.”
“I’m usually not so totally messed up that I need help to sort my life out,” Nikolai returned. Garak smiled and gave a half-bow at that, agreeing. His thoughts turned back to the night before and that morning.
“Let me guess,” his Cardassian companion said, studying him carefully. “You wish to discuss what happened with your lady friend.”
“It is a bit… disturbing,” Nikolai sighed. He was amazed at how readily he’d come to be able to discuss intimate aspects of his life with a fictional character who may really be just a manifestation of his subconscious mind rather than a spirit guide, as he’d intimated before. “What am I going to tell Alicia?”
“The truth, dear Kolya, is always a good place to start.”
Nikolai looked his companion straight in the eyes. Kate’s advice, to be sure, but there was just one problem with it. “How do I tell her the truth when I don’t even know what it is?”
“Ah, but you do know,” Garak returned. “You just need to sort things out for yourself.”
“I had sex with a woman who lives down the hall from me, without so much as a second thought,” Nikolai said steadily.
“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that when talking to Alicia.”
Nikolai sighed. Garak never told him anything, he was remembering. So maybe… if he started to try to work things out, he would ask some of his probing questions. “No, I suppose not,” he said, feeling as if a giant weight were on his shoulders. “It’s just… it felt right, somehow.”
Garak leaned forward some as they continued to speak, sounding curious. “Tell me, my friend. Do you still have feelings for Alicia?”
“Yes, of course. That’s why I’m so disturbed about this!”
“I think it’s something else,” Garak noted. “We both know where the Xangyarj and contemporary cultures stand on this, don’t we?”
Nikolai started to speak, then stopped as he realised that Garak was right. It was definitely one of the things to consider. “Yes, and that helps to make this even more frustrating.”
“Because you have feelings for Simryn as well.” It was not a question as much as it was stating the obvious.
“But how? I’ve barely spoken to the woman, and yet I feel like I’ve known her for months. Something seems so… familiar… about her.”
“Perhaps she reminds you of what you once were.”
Nikolai sighed yet again. Even getting used to his evasiveness – something that this Garak was even more adept at doing than his counterpart on television – Nikolai felt more than a little annoyed. “Simryn is nothing like I once was.”
“I never said that she was.”
“Then what are you saying?” Nikolai snapped at him. “First Alicia, then the virus, now Simryn. What’s next? Are you going to interrogate me on what we know about the Council without telling me what is going on?”
Garak smiled, standing to motion over the table as he spoke. “But you don’t need me to tell you, my friend. Just notice the details. They’re scattered like crumbs all over this table we regularly share.”
“I really hate it when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Quote yourself.”
“Well, I must confess that Andrew Robinson delivered the line better, but it is quite apt advice for you,” Garak returned. Nikolai wished he hadn’t watched the showing of the episode ‘Cardassians’ that was on Deep Space Nine the other night.
Nikolai shook his head in annoyance, before he decided that it was best to try to follow that advice. Just notice the details. What were the details of what happened? “I felt like I was picking up something from before,” Nikolai said, as he reflected on the night with Simryn. “Though I’ve never done anything like that with her before.”
Garak’s smile was unmistakably the I-know-something-you-don’t-and-I’m-not-telling smile. “Well maybe not in this lifetime, to be sure.”
This lifetime? That was enough to give Nikolai pause. Surely he wasn’t saying… while he didn’t know what religion she was, he did know that the big one in India did accept reincarnation. “You’re saying that we were, what, lovers in a past life?”
“You tell me.”
“Well, I suppose it would make a certain amount of sense.”
“And there you have it, my friend. Picking up where you left off… how romantic.”
“That still doesn’t help me with my dilemma.” Nikolai was sorely tempted to reach across the table and slap his spirit guide. “I – I love both of them. How am I supposed to choose between them?”
Garak stopped for a minute. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go. He was supposed to ask the questions, not give the answers. “You should know by now that I can’t tell you that,” he said. “All I can tell you is to follow your heart.”
“My heart tells me I want to be with both of them.”
“And if you could be with only one… where does your heart lead you?”
Nikolai stopped in his tracks again. “I don’t know.”
“Then that, my friend, is what you must figure out.” The Cardassian went to turn away, before facing Nikolai again. There was some small amount of regret in his voice when he spoke next. “Sadly, however, this will be our last conversation. As much as I’ve enjoyed being a Cardassian Tailor, I’m afraid our time together has come to an end.”
Of all the things to hear, Nikolai did not expect to hear that. “What?”
“You don’t need me any more. Your life is a mess, yes, but… you know what you have to do. There is nothing more that I can do for you, Kolya.”
Nikolai nodded. Somehow he knew this would have to come, and he was a bit relieved that he would no longer be seeing visions of a fictional character. Still, there was just one thing he wondered about. “Perhaps since this is our last meeting, you can answer something for me.”
“If I’m able, you know I will,” his companion smiled broadly again.
“What are you? Really?”
“I’m just Garak,” he replied, in that same steady, oily voice. “Plain, simple Garak.”
Suddenly he was back in the sunroom again, looking around. Though Nikolai didn’t feel any different, he knew that he’d received all the answers he could be given. Ultimately it didn’t really matter what Garak really was so much as the effect on his life, he thought. But he was right about one thing, when it came to the problems in his life now.
All he needed to do was notice the details.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
23 April 2007
Alicia’s Apartment
7:20pm
Nikolai sat in the parking lot for a good twenty minutes before he finally worked up the nerve to make his way to Alicia’s. Then it took him another fifteen to work up the nerve to go from her parking lot to inside. Everything that happened still seemed like a dream to him. For a moment, he’d considered leaving, trying to find someone to talk to about all of this…
But he couldn’t. The only people he trusted enough to even mention it to were Tash and Kate. Tash he didn’t want to see again until he was sure of whether or not he could support her decision to ally with the Council, while Kate… the last thing she needed was his problems dumped on her.
As soon as she opened the door, she could tell that something was wrong. Nikolai did not normally have that slumped shoulder look about him. Inviting him inside, she went to get a few glasses of water as he tried to speak. “I’m… I’m sorry,” he finally said, wondering if it were possible to feel any more guilty than he already was.
“I don’t know how to say it, if there’s any way that I can. It’s… Have you noticed me acting strange recently?” Nikolai blurted out.
Alicia had to stifle a little laugh, holding her hand against her lips she couldn't help but smile at Nikolai's question. "Only recently?" she teased in an effort to lighten the mood as she sat down next to him on the sofa.
At Nikolai's unrelenting seriousness Alicia quickly reined in her jovility, replacing it with a tense sobriety. She looked away from the man she loved and carefully smoothed out a wrinkle in the fabric of her skirt.
"I DID notice, Koyla," she admitted after a while, picking up her glass of water and taking a slow, thoughtful sip. "I wanted to ask but... there never really seemed to be an appropriate time."
Nikolai rubbed his hands together, trying to sort everything out. Simryn, the Council, the virus… where to begin with it all? How to explain what happened when the blasted thing was supposedly in remission? “I couldn’t have told you anything until recently.”
He sat down, taking in the look of Alicia. The – a – woman he loved. Wasn’t she? She could forgive the truth… he hoped. “I had an experience… on Saturday. Kate entered my mind, she found – I have something bringing out the worst in me, again.”
Alicia furrowed her brow in confusion, he had been to see Kate? How could she not know anything about this? True, they didn't exactly live in each other's pockets but they'd grown close over the past few weeks especially since that night they had spent together.
She felt a little bit put out that Koyla hadn't wanted to come to her with his problems before going off to seek 'treatment'. They were supposed to be courting now after all, there shouldn't be such secrets between them any more. "Something?" she asked warily, schooling her features into a more patient expression. "What's going on, Koyla? Are you okay?"
“No. I’m not ok,” he replied flatly. He could feel that she was a little disturbed already, and needed to put her at ease. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t come to see you, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like that and to be honest, I didn’t know what to tell you.”
He trailed off as he realised that he was beginning to ramble, taking a deep breath before speaking outright and making what could be the first of a series of terrible connections. “It’s a virus of some kind that feeds off ‘mana’ – not that I know what it is. We don’t know what it does aside from corruption of the soul. It, that is, I… under its influence… I started working for the mob again.” There, he’d said it. All he could do was wait and collapse into the chair. “Please… forgive me…”
"The mob?" said Alicia incredulously, she could barely believe what Nikolai was saying. She knew about his past and she could accept it precicely because that's what it was, the past. But now... he'd gone back to his old life? Because of this, this virus?
"What do you mean you're 'working for the mob again'?" she asked speculatively. Without even realising it she shuffled away from him a little, watching him with a combination of sceptisim and confusion.
Nikolai turned away from her. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d known she would ultimately reject him because of it. And that’s what this was coming down to, wasn’t it? The fact that he didn’t deserve to be with her – not after what he’d done – didn’t deserve to be with either of them.
At once, he regretted saying anything at all, but knew he had to go on. “Dmitri Gromyoko. He’s one of the big Russian bosses… I don’t know why, but I told him, his family, that I wanted back in. Now he has me looking into these rumours about the Council for him. And I want to get out, but I don’t know how any more.” Without realising it, tears had formed in his eyes again as he leaned to the side, trying to avoid breaking down and crying once again.
Alicia didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do, but as soon as she saw the tears in Nikolai's eyes she found herself moving back closer to him again, her arms wrapping around his strong shoulders comfortingly.
"Oh Koyla," she whispered softly, forcing him to turn around to face her. She looked up into his sorrowful face and gently wiped away the few tears that had fallen from his eyes. She didn't want to lose him over this, especially when it was obvious that Koyla needed her right now, and she needed him too.
Ever since Mr Wyldling had died she'd never allowed herself to get close to another man... until Koyla. She felt like they had something very precious, the way they had waited such a long time - for the right time, to make love. It had been worth the wait, he had been worth the wait. She wouldn't abandon him now, she couldn't. If he was ill then he needed her support, her love more than ever.
"There must be something we can do," she soothed quietly, "You left that life once, you can do it again can't you? You can't even be in that deep if you only just became involved again, it's not like you've been out killing people for them or anything..."
It was all too much for him. Her love and support, the things that should have helped him right now, transformed into a terrible burden. Nikolai felt like he would never be done trying to atone for all of the things he had done. No words came; only tears.
He felt her arms around him as she simply held him, burying his head in her shoulders like he’d done before. Her compassion and love had helped before, but now as he felt it, it served only to redouble his grief. If she found out about some things, she would be hurt beyond words. That was a hurt he could not inflict upon her if he tried.
All at once, he felt incredibly selfish at having asked Kate to kill him if he tried to go back again. The pain that would inflict on her would be even more terrible; that was something he could not consider doing. Eventually he ceased moving and making noises, only being silent. Nikolai couldn’t bring himself to move or speak, shutting his eyes.
*I just want it like it was before,* he thought to himself. *Before everything started to go wrong.* If wishes were horses… maybe, he thought, if he didn’t move or say anything the rest of the world would just go away and leave them alone.
Alicia continued to stroke her hands through Nikolai’s hair, soothing my with her touch. At least he stopped crying and his sobs had died down some too. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything else worrying him, although the stuff with the virus and the mob was certainly enough to upset anyone.
"Oh, Koyla," she said again, plucking a tissue from a box on the table and using it to wipe his damp, tear-streaked cheeks.
If only the White Hats were still together, they'd find a way to cure him of this illness, but at least Kate was still on their side. She had seen the witch in action many times, first against Mother Mariah and also with the Brotherhood. She was a very capable and powerful mage; Alicia knew that if anyone could help them it would be her.
"If Kate is looking into things she'll find a cure," Alicia said softly, trying to comfort her poor, stricken lover. "And in the meantime I will look after you... I love you."
“Thank you,” he managed to get out, unable to say anything else. He couldn’t tell her the rest, couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not now. Eventually the right time would come. Or so he prayed. For now, all he could do was be there.
Suddenly he shivered. Cold, it seemed so cold. Worse even than some of the winters in Leningrad, back before the revolution. “I don’t deserve to be with you,” Nikolai finally said, feeling her love still. Trying to comfort him when she should be pushing him away, hurting him. After all the death he had brought, all the pain he’d caused, he had earned being scorned by the woman he loved. Hadn’t he?
"Why would you say something like that?" Alicia asked softly, drawing back a little so that she could look at him properly. He was so upset, so worried, she could understand why but... why would he think that he didn't deserve to be with her?
"I want to be with you Koyla, you still want that too don't you?"
“Yes… no… I mean…” Nikolai kicked himself in the head, sighing sorrowfully. He really didn’t deserve her, she was too good for him. If he didn’t have a darkness inside him, this virus would have never been able to pull it out.
“I’m evil,” he said at last. “I care for you, I just don’t want to hurt you. I can’t hurt you, I care for you too much, but it’s… last night… I was out with a woman. We were fighting this, this cult, and… after the battle… we were injured, one thing lead to another… oh god…”
Nikolai stopped again, unable to continue. He pulled away from Alicia, he knew she could never touch him again, not when he had all but confessed to being unfaithful to her. “If I can’t stay loyal to you, I can’t stay loyal to anyone,” he cried. “And so I don’t deserve you, have no right to expect any loyalty in return.”
*Please, God, kill me now,* he thought. *Stop me before I do anything else to hurt her.*
Alicia felt numb, like Nikolai had just hit her across the face. She felt him disentwine himself from her arms rather than see any of the tears of comprehension that were already building up in her eyes. Finally she drew in a sharp breath after realizing that she hadn't been breathing at all for the past few minutes.
She slowly forced herself to look at the man opposite her, how stupid was she? To let herself be hurt like this, to lay herself open to him, to give him her heart. She should have known it was all too good to be true, that she would never find a love to equal that which she had felt for her late husband. How could she have ever believed it was possible? "You... you had sex with this other woman? Who... who is she?" Alicia stammered, trying to keep a cap on her emotions for the sake of finding out what had actually happened.
The hurt… the pain… Somehow the actuality was worse than all of his fears. He was still struggling with how it had happened but with that question – he didn’t need to answer to know what she would go through. For the moment he didn’t care what the past, the distant past had held. That was no excuse. “Her name is Simryn,” he finally said.
Nikolai felt terrible. He couldn’t stand it. Nothing mattered if you couldn’t stay true to those you cared about, did it? *Now I know how Kate must have felt,* he thought, only it was worse: Alicia hadn’t been acting terribly towards him, quite the opposite in fact. “We, we were lovers before…”
He trailed off, hardly able to continue. She would think it were some lame excuse if he told her the rest of what he thought. That he had thrown it all away for one night with someone else. Alicia would never love him again, never hold or forgive him. She couldn’t.
“I’m sorry, I can’t believe I did it but… I deserve to suffer,” he said, his mind finally reaching the breaking point. “The pain, a punishment, for everything. For everyone I’ve hurt, but especially for what I did to you. Yes, the pain, the pain, the pain, you don’t need it, I do…” his voice grew more panicked and worried, like when he’d first had L’Than in his head; Alicia’s grief was the last thing before he snapped.
"I'm not feeling sorry for you!" declared Alicia hotly, rising to her feet in annoyance. "Don't you dare start making out like you had no choice in all this, you always have a choice!" Alicia breathed deeply, holding a hand against her head. She couldn't believe him! He tells her everything about his joining the mob, and that he had this virus that made him do things, bad things, then this! What if he was using the virus just as an excuse so that he could go sleep with any woman he wanted to!?
Was she supposed to forgive him? How could she love him after he had cheated on her so freely? "You deserve to be in pain! You've... you've hurt me Koyla," she said, her upset and torment showing through finally.
"I let you in, I allowed myself to feel again... because I trusted you, I thought that you were one of the good ones, the kind of man that would never hurt me. What did I ever do to make you treat me like... like I mean nothing to you!?"
Nikolai felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. The strange thing was, part of him wished she had actually gone and done it. She was right, he did deserve to be in pain, probably much more than he was in now. It was the only way he could make penance. “Nothing, that what makes it so wrong, so terrible, terrible…”
He couldn’t take it. Nikolai didn’t care what she did to him; he deserved, needed to pay. It was the only thing that made sense, for someone like him to avoid it for so long, he was long past due. Dropping to his knees, he spoke softly. “You’re right, I deserve to suffer… whatever you want to do to me, I won’t stop you…”
"Shut up! Just... shut up!" cried Alicia, not bothering to hold back her tears any more. They rolled freely down her cheeks and off the end of her nose, her mascara bled into little black rivers which she wiped back across her eyes.
"You deserve to suffer but not like this, I won't give you the satisfaction. I won't ease your conscience by hurting you back, that's not me. I don't do things like that, I'm not that petty!" She wiped at her eyes again, sniffling some before turning back to face Nikolai who was still on his knees. "You tell me why, why did you have to- why did you do this to me! I thought you- you said you loved me, I believed you loved me..."
"I did, do, still do," he got out. His mind wasn't working properly, that much was certain, but he could still answer. "The past, an old life. Before this one, we were together, picking up... Torn between two paths, a heart two ways. Pain... unimaginable..."
"You love this other woman?" Alicia asked suddenly, her eyes wide with disbelief. She'd thought it was a one night thing, that was bad enough, but this? He hadn't just slept with another woman, he had given his heart to someone else - that in itself was a much deeper betrayal.
"You can't love us both Nikolai," she said harshly, "it doesn't work like that." She softly slumped back down onto the sofa, burying her head in her hands before brushing back her hair as she released a heavy sigh.
"I thought I knew you," she said sadly, "but this is not you, not all this. Maybe... maybe it IS this virus thing, maybe you only think you love this other woman, how can anyone ever be sure of their own feelings? You said yourself this thing... it makes you act unreasonably, well this would fit wouldn't it? Please tell me you didn't want it to happen, tell me it was a mistake, tell me it will never happen again and I will believe you Koyla."
Yes. It made sense, he thought, as he finally began to calm down. The virus, if it affected him before, maybe this was another way… but then there was Garak, the guide he would no longer see. Garak never lied, and he saw Garak before being infected. Then again maybe he was wrong.
“A terrible mistake,” Nikolai said softly. “It might have been, I don’t know… I feel so lost, like I don’t even know myself now, that I can’t even trust myself any more, but I know I love you. Please, Alicia, forgive me, just give me one final chance, something to make it up to you.”
Alicia didn't know what to do, she wanted to forgive him, she really did. She loved him. She couldn't believe that the last few months had all meant nothing, that what they had could be thrown away so recklessly because of one 'mistake'.
And what if it really was this virus? As ridiculous as it seemed it wouldn't be the strangest thing to happen, if there could be werewolves, vampires and witches, a chosen girl whose destiny was to slay the undead, if there could be fae and angels and woogie men and demons and shapeshifters and succubus... if all those things could exist, then why not a virus that made people act out of character, make them evil?
And if Koyla was infected, was he responsible for his actions?
Alicia sighed as she looked into Nikolai's eyes. She was tired, she was upset, she didn't know what she wanted except... she didn't want to be alone in this world any more. She wanted to be in love, to have someone who would protect her from all those above nasties, someone who made her happy to wake up on a morning.
"I love you," she whispered meekly, as Nikolai took her in his arms and held her. She held her head against his muscular shoulder, could feel his hands pressing into her back. "Please, Koyla... make it up to me..."
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
*** Monday, April 23, 2007 1:30pm***
Longwood Estate
Oz sat on the weight bench and wiped his face with a towel. Overhead he could hear Cole and his buddy Kyle walking through the house like a couple of elephants. Neither of them had the grace to walk quietly when there was no danger. Oz had been careful to stay out of Cole's way and had, so far, avoided running into Kyle face to face.
He had learned the other boy's name by asking Alessa and she was surprised, *Or was she?* to learn that Kyle had been one of the three who had beaten him. The third, Vincent, had supposedly died in the accident that had landed Cole here.
Oz listened to the footsteps approach the door to the basement and he reached a hand for his sword. He paused, hovering over the hilt until the footsteps moved away. He had been carrying it ever since encountering Cole in the kitchen.
Somehow, Cole had avoided him as well. It suited Oz just fine, despite a few close calls. Oz had been only a few steps down the hall when Cole had stopped attacking Ellis Longwood yesterday. If Alessa had been five minutes later he might have killed both boys.
*And Ellis too, maybe?*
Oz snorted. He really didn't feel like fighting these kids. He just wanted to be left alone. And he was getting his wish. He had put the time to good use. Hard work in the yard and many hours here in the late Ernie Longwood's basement workout room had restored Oz's physique to its prime condition.
The free weights, treadmill and punching bag were worn but serviceable, and nobody else in the house seemed to bother coming down here to use them. Oz also seemed to be the only person using the pool as well, although he had limited his swims to late nights and very early mornings.
He stood and looked at the rippled muscles in the mirror. He listened carefully to the footsteps upstairs and thought he could hear the two kids rummaging through the kitchen. Looking back at his image in the mirror, he raised his sword and extended his wings.
For a moment, he could imagine the circle of light - the 'Aura' - that was his badge of office; what most humans thought of as a 'halo'. The light of God's favor that radiated from him and made mortals recognise the authority of the angel.
But it was gone like so many things in his life. Left behind forever, never to return. "So kiss yourself, mate and get it over with," came a voice from behind him.
Oz whirled and his sword clashed with another one just like it. On the end of the weight bench was Azrael. He was wearing a silver frock with a slit skirt that ended just above his tasteful pumps. Oz relaxed a little but maintained his guard.
"Come for me?" he asked calmly.
Azrael dropped his sword and it vanished. "Nah, I just stopped in to see how you were doing. Looks like you are back to fighting trim. A vast improvement over the last time I saw you."
Azrael held his arms out and rolled his head to one side with his toungue sticking out.
"Wanker," Oz said lowering his sword, "And you of course went out of your way to help, didn't you?"
Azrael laughed, "Nope, I got the 'Angel of Death' gig, someone else is assigned to 'guardian angel' duty for you."
Oz raised an eyebrow, "Who got the short straw?"
Azrael winked, "Can't tell you. I got an 'Administrative reprimand' for appearing at your tree, and I'll likely get a 'official censure' for this little stint. But I have to be in town. You should see my diary: Death, Death Death, Death, Death, Lunch... Death Death, Death. You get the idea."
Oz looked concered. "Something happening? Should I be looking for something?"
Azrael stood and patted Oz on the head patronizingly, "No. Don't worry about it, mortal. Your time will come. Like those two upstairs, their time will come too. And your pretty boss, her time. Ellis Longwood. Time. Everything dies, Oz. Even you... although some of them will die before you do."
And then he was gone.
Oz screamed out of frustration and anger and rammed his sword into the punching bag. Then he collapsed on the ground and started to sob.
*Those bastards. I just want to be left alone, and I keep stepping into it, don't I? I keep thinking about them so they keep tormenting me with what I left behind. Bastards!*
"BASTARDS!"
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Sunday, April 22nd
10:05 pm
Hilton Hotel
It was her night off from the club and Inés was just moping in her hotel room. She had taken a shower and put on her oldest clothes, a pair of tights and a baggy worn sweater, just to be comfortable. She had just ordered room service’s biggest pizza and while she waited she was pouring the content of several of the fridge’s little liquor bottles in a tall glass; she really didn’t care which spirits she mixed, as long as the result was strong and sweet and got her drunk. She wasn’t feeling exactly happy that night.
At the knock on the door, Inés left her ‘cocktail’ over the fridge and went to open it. *Room service is getting quicker,* she the thought as she walked towards the door.
When Inés opened the door she was met with James’ boyish grin. He was holding a pizza high. “Well, pet, I think I’m gonna have to help you eat this.”
Before he could chuckle, the vampire had enough time to see her fist come flying towards his nose with break neck speed and connect with a satisfying crunch.
James staggered back a few feet, stunned. He clasped his bloody nose with two fingers and tilted his head back.
“Why did you do that pet? That really fucking hurt.”
“Y que querías, desaparecés por una semana, ni una palabra! Ni una llamada, no se si estás vivo o muerto...”
Inés continued to rave in Spanish while James massaged his bloody nose and watched her with a half smile in his face, letting her get out of it. She looked beautiful even yelling like a fishwife.
“Who was the one who did the disappearing act the other time, pet?” he asked when she finally stopped to breathe. He moved towards her, although carefully; her black eyes were still aflame with indignation. “Come on, love. You’re not being fair…”
Inés studied him; he was wearing an immaculately white T-shirt and jeans and a puppy look in his eyes. She felt suddenly guilty. Shoving back her hair with a brisk movement of her head she snorted.
“I don’t want to be fair. Fair ladies live in castles and have knights in shining armour to rescue them.” She gave him a pointed glare. “Knights that are actually around.”
James sighed and just looked at her. “Can you let me in? I can explain.”
Inés sidestepped from the doorway and allowed James to enter her hotel room. The vampire made his way to a chair, sat himself down and nodded towards Inés. “I’m sorry I left but some family matters crept up and I had to take care of them.”
Inés felt indignation grow in her again and shouted at James from across the room. “What do you mean family matters? You disappeared for nearly a week without so much as a phone call to explain where you went. And I know what you mean by ‘family matters’!”
Sighing she lowered her tone, feeling the hurt all over again. “You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell me that your son died, or even invite me to his funeral… Connor, you said you loved me the last time we met, but obviously you didn’t mean it…”
James looked at Inés in shock and tried to talk calmly. “I never phoned you because my best friend just got paralyzed from the waist down, because my son tossed him out of a ten story building.”
He paused to see the news sink in her, then went on. “I had to take Darlome to the hospital and then to New York so he could be near his family; and as for Vincent being dead, I can assure you he is very much alive and well.” He brushed back his hair, frustration in his voice. “In fact, I'm still looking for him.”
“Oh…” Inés blinked, she had been so wound up with all that had happened that now she felt a little stupid.
The past days, since she had learnt of Vincent’s death from Alessa, she had been growing in misery as well as anger. Her first reaction had been to rush to his mansion to offer support, but he wasn’t there. His shadow guards didn’t even let her in. Later she had searched high and low for him, finally convincing herself that he just didn’t want her at his side.
Her tense demeanour relaxed a bit and she smiled weakly at him, blushing when she noticed that in her anger she had even revealed more than she had wanted. Maybe in all the excitement he hadn’t noticed. She lowered her eyes, and apologized. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know about all that…”
James looked at Inés in the eyes for the first time all night. “And I’m sorry I didn’t phone, but … well, my head’s been pretty messed up for the past few days. My son nearly kills me and my best friend, his other father.”
He looked away for a moment, “That’s not so easy to get your head around, and the thing that kills me is I don’t know why he did it! Besides, what the hell is all this crap about Vince being dead?”
Inés straightened the baggy sweater she was wearing, suddenly self-conscious, before answering, “I only know what Alessa told me, and she knows it from Cole,” she said, combing her hair with her fingers into some semblance of order. “The boy was hurt because the building where they were dwelling fell down on him. He said Vince had died in that same accident… stabbed by an iron spike or something like that…” she looked at James in the eyes. “But you say he’s alive? That’s strange...”
James looked concerned for a second, but shrugged it off. “He could have survived it, but I'm not sure. Well, he is definitely alive. Anyway, at the moment I’m sure that just finding him will be the problem. He was trained by me and Darlome, so he knows how to stay hidden for a long time.”
James looked at Inés and gave a wicked grin. “I like your clothes, by the way. You look so much more housewifeish now. I think they suit you better.”
“You do?” Inés chuckled, regaining some of her self confidence. “Nobody has called me housewifeish before.” she said, a wicked grin on her face; then she tumbled her hair backwards and shrugged.
“I wasn’t expecting company, you know? In fact my plans were eating pizza and getting drunk.” She signalled to the tall ‘cocktail’ glass that still waited for her over the fridge. “You don’t need to dress up for that.”
Then she frowned, thinking back about his words, “Vince attacked you and Darlome?”
James nodded “Yeah, he and Cole, actually. Tossing me out of a ten story window won’t kill me, just piss me off, but Darlome… he was holding back. He didn’t want to hurt the kids,” he explained. “That’s how they got the jump on him.”
He looked back at her, his grin again in his face.
“Wait, getting drunk alone while eating pizza?” he said in mock shock, “That’s a disgrace, Lady.” He rose from his chair and walked towards her. “You should have a gentleman accompany you on all occasions; especially when the aforementioned gentleman just loves pizza.”
“Oh, yeah?” she purred, watching him approach her and loving the way he managed to make her feel all queasy inside, just by being around. “Well, said ‘gentleman’ should be careful then.”
“How come?” he asked smiling, finally getting to her, and placing his arms on her waist.
“Uh-huh” she nodded, looking innocently up at him, “If you don’t take care, this ‘lady’ will leave you with only the crumbs.”
He moved too quickly for her to prevent, getting out of her embrace and taking hold of the pizza box and holding it high on his head.
“Not if I can stop you!” he joked, passing the box from one hand to the other and keeping it out of her reach while she tried to retrieve it.
“Give that to me! You ladrón de pizas” Inés laughed and jumped to get it.
James laughed at her, and then, surprised, his eyes followed her figure up as she morphed into Verbati, getting thus much taller than him and getting the box out of his startled fingers.
“Hey!” he shouted as she morphed back to human and started picking at a pizza slice, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “That’s not fair!” he pouted, moving towards her again.
“What did I tell you about my being fair?” she mocked and laughed when he took the slice from her fingers, taking a big bite off it.
He ate with his eyes closed, with enough hums and yums to believe the pizza was a heavenly treat, and what little anger was left in her disappeared at his pantomime. She laughed again, and closed on to kiss him, enjoying the feeling of him under the pizza taste on his lips.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Tuesday, April 24th
6:45 pm
Jaan Restaurant
Raffles L’Ermitage Beverly Hills Hotel
Assessing the luxurious ambience of the Jaan Restaurant, Alessa thanked having talked to Inés about the meeting. Her cousin had advised her to wear something elegant, since the restaurant was one of the finest in the city. And she could see Inés hadn’t been wrong; the domed ceiling and gold embellishments gave the room a rich touch. The shining platinum, delicate porcelains and classic crystalware all had a definite French signature, while the linens, tabletops, draperies and general décor brought springtime inside.
She had arrived early to have at least the advantage of inspecting the place before Stuart arrived, and the waitress had led her to a privileged table near a high window that overlooked the lush garden outside. She wondered if she had assessed the Watcher wrongly; this was the kind of restaurant where you had to make reservations way in advance to get a good table, unless you were of a certain position and importance.
After being certain that everybody in the restaurant was what they seemed to be, Alessa started to relax and enjoy herself. Clad in the dress she had chosen for the evening she felt beautiful and up to any of the other elegantly dressed women in the room. With confidence she ordered a drink and waited for Stuart Montrose.
Stopping at the mirror in the entrance, Stuart made sure his tie was straight and his hair smoothed down before he announced his name to the maître d’. He’d been lucky to get a table at such short notice, having only made the reservation some three nights earlier. If he’d tried for a Friday or a Saturday evening he’d have had to wait months, he was sure. Smiling nervously, he approached the table where Alessa already sat, and stopped in admiration as he took in her gorgeous sea-green off-the-shoulder gown.
Nodding to the waiter who settled him in his chair and gave him his menu, Stuart found he could hardly keep his eyes from Alessa. He realised she was watching him with some amusement and he dropped his eyes to the table. “I’m sorry, Miss Hunt – Alessa. I… you are easily the most beautiful woman in this room.”
Alessa blushed prettily in pleasure at his appraisal. “Thank you Stuart, you are very kind.” She looked at him approvingly, but caught herself before telling him a piropo herself. The man really looked good with his suit and tie, so very English… She sighed. *What is it with me and Englishmen?* she mused as she fumbled nervously with a napkin. Morris, Ellis, even Chance was half English... well, technically Matthew had been full-blooded English... it was the 'Chance/Felix' persona that was only half English... she shook her head, it was too confusing.
“Did you bring the papers?” she asked, a little briskly, trying to change her line of thought.
Stuart’s smile faded in concern. “Yes, I did. But… well, I had hoped we might have dinner first. I fear they may spoil your appetite, and it would be a sin to miss out on such exquisite food as I hear they have here.”
She nodded, she was eager to see the documents but she didn’t want to press him. Besides, the sight and smell of the food from the nearby tables had awakened her hunger. For such a slight frame, Alessa’s appetite had always been a hearty one.
“Bueno,” she said with a smile. “Let’s not be heretics then, and have dinner first.” As she took the menu from the table and after a couple of minutes she went on, “Did you know that Jaan is a Sanskrit word, meaning dish or bowl?”
Stuart looked up from his own menu, “No, I didn’t. I see you are not only beautiful but learned, as well.”
She chuckled at his compliment, and winked. “I didn’t either; it says so in the menu.”
Glancing at the front page, his eyes crinkled in soft laughter. “So I see. Well, perceptive then. That’s better than learned, oftentimes.”
Relieved that they would be able to enjoy their dinner with some measure of a relaxed atmosphere, Stuart scanned the menu and selected his items, then conferred with Alessa on the right choice of wine to accompany their meal. Once that was settled he regarded the woman opposite him candidly.
“Please, Alessa, I would love to hear more about you. I find myself increasingly intrigued about your likes and dislikes, places you may have visited, things you’ve done. You are fascinating. And beautiful. And,” he smiled, “of course, perceptive.”
Alessa lowered her eyes for a moment as she unfolded the napkin over her lap. Unlike what she had expected, she felt comfortable and relaxed with the Watcher. If she just forgot about the reason behind it, she could pretend it was a dinner date, and her companion just a handsome man courting her.
Raising her eyes, she found Stuart’s blue ones fixed on her face. She smiled. *Why not? Why can’t I just enjoy myself?* Thoughts of Ellis, the virus and the Council disappeared from her mind, as she made up her mind to just ‘live the moment’ while she could.
“Carpe Diem,” she whispered, her eyes locked with his.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked, confused, but she just shook her head, making her honey curls dance charmingly around her face.
“Nothing,” she said, “It’s just that my life has been a little… complicated, to say the least.” She gave a sad laugh and straightened, *Carpe Diem, remember?* she said to herself, smiling again, “I’ve done a little of everything and gone almost everywhere.”
“Sounds like an exciting life. I’m afraid mine has been rather dull, cooped up in the Watchers’ headquarters in England for the most part. Coming here to Los Angeles to find you is about the most adventurous thing I’ve ever done.” He leaned forward, twirling his glass of wine in his fingers. “Please, tell me about some of the adventures you’ve had. I’d love to hear about them.”
Alessa shrugged charmingly; she didn’t really want to go on detail about her life, but couldn’t deny that all this attention on her was delightful. He handled the ‘just listen to him and smile’ advice girls used to get from their mothers like a professional, but the look in his eyes was telling her that he really cared about what she had to say.
“You know how to make a girl feel special, Stuart,” she said, and sipped her wine, “but you make my life sound much more adventurous than it actually was. Mostly I was trying to survive, like everybody else.”
He looked so disappointed at her continuous denial to speak about herself, that she softened and laughed. “Ok, don’t pout. What can I tell you..? Well, have you ever been to India?” she asked, and at his negative response she started to tell him about her time there.
With mastery, he steered the conversation to learn about several other places she had visited, all the time making interesting commentaries and intelligent questions. With surprise Alessa found herself talking animatedly about her life and experiences, telling him more than what she had really intended at first. Waiters arrived with food and wine, then returned to clear their empty plates, but the conversation never flagged.
“Oh my, and you say your life hasn’t been adventurous? It sounds like one huge adventure to me,” Stuart sighed sadly, toying with the remains of his dessert. “Mine, however, has been quite boring. My days are usually spent rifling through dusty old ledgers in an old house in England, doing research for others to have their adventures.”
Almost guiltily, he glanced down at the briefcase he’d brought with him. It sat on the floor under the table, and his talk of reading through files reminded him sharply of why he was here.
Alessa’s eyes followed his, and her expression soured as well. She had managed to set aside the real reason for the meeting, but now it came crushing over them. Setting her fork down on the ‘Magic Noir’ cake she was having for dessert, she smiled weakly.
“I guess it’s time we get to less pleasurable business, right?” she asked, and bit her lip. Discussing those matters on at Jaan’s had sounded just right last Saturday, but now she couldn’t imagine them going through the files over the small fine table. Making up her mind she went on, “Isn’t there some place more private here that we could use for that? Maybe the hotel lobby? It had several isolated spots…”
“I hate to spoil such a perfect evening, but I can’t withhold these documents from you simply because I can’t bear to see you sad. You have a right to see them. And yes, in here no longer seems fitting, you’re quite correct.”
Stuart glanced around at their surroundings, trying to remember the layout of the hotel lobby. “Yes, the lobby, maybe… although it is still somewhat public. You may become distressed. Perhaps we might find a room available – oh, no. No.” He blushed, colouring to the very roots of his hair, “That would be entirely indecorous. Please accept my apologies and forget I ever made such a suggestion.”
Alessa blushed too, remembering other ‘indecorous’ times in Ellis’ hotel room. Thinking about him she felt a pang of guilt at having such a wonderful time with another man, despite the reasons for the meeting, then she brushed the thoughts aside. She didn’t have to explain anything to Ellis or justify her actions.
Then her thoughts came back to the problem at hand, her thumb unconsciously rubbing the faint pink scar in her palm, evidence of her ‘distress’ on Saturday night. If she had reacted like that to a mere suspicion… what could happen when she saw the actual proofs? She couldn’t really trust herself to even guess at her reactions lately, and she didn’t want to put a show on stage for strangers to enjoy.
“Maybe a room would be the best,” she said, “We’d be undisturbed there.”
Stuart fumbled with his napkin and tried to appear less flustered than he was. “Um, well, if you’re sure. I mean, I don’t wish to put you in any sort of awkward situation.” Alessa’s expression remained adamant, and so Stuart nodded reluctantly. “Well, all right then. At least you will have some privacy. Excuse me while I make the arrangements.”
He stood, bowed slightly to Alessa and disappeared in the direction of the hotel lobby. After a few minutes he returned, smiling nervously as he picked up the briefcase. “I have managed to secure a room for the evening, so we can go through these in peace.” He held out an arm, “If milady would care to join me?”
Alessa tried to smile, but a sense of apprehension prevented her from doing it. She just nodded and followed him out of the restaurant.
***
The hotel suite held the same elegance as the rest of the accommodations, its décor also a delicate balance of eastern ambiance with contemporary, western comfort. As Alessa walked into the suite she could see that it was twice the size of most hotel rooms, featuring a living room, work area, sitting area, walk-in closet and vanity area, apart from the actual bedroom. The working area even had a computer for the guests to use. She walked towards the high French windows and opened them onto a private balcony that overlooked the mountains.
She turned around, a little embarrassed at Stuart’s amused smile at her inspection of the suite, and walked towards the working area with a hurried pace.
“Al mal paso…” she said, and sat down near a desk-like rosewood table. To him she explained, “Let’s get this thing done.”
“Indeed,” Stuart agreed, moving to the work table and opening his briefcase. From within he drew out a slender folder that contained a few photocopied pages of what seemed to be handwritten notes, and a couple of typed letters, also copied. He set them on the smooth wooden surface and smiled sadly.
“There’s not a lot here – as I explained, I wasn’t able to remove the actual files, and only had time to make copies of a few things before my fear of discovery became too great.” He hung his head in shame, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to obtain more proof.”
He reached back to the briefcase and drew out a large envelope. “The only other things I have are these…”
He laid the envelope on the table next to the photocopied documents, offering no further explanation.
Her curiosity piqued, Alessa reached for the envelope and opened the flap, pulling out the grainy, black and white photocopies of photographs that were inside. As she began to look through them Stuart softly excused himself, to return a moment later with a large glass of water which he set on the table for Alessa.
Alessa paled as she started to flip through the photocopies, their low quality not preventing them from being clear. The first couple were of a large group of buildings, a high fence and wall separating them from the thick jungle all around. “Is this the Colombian compound?” she asked, flipping over to yet another view of the buildings.
Stuart nodded. “Yes. I must warn you, some of the pictures in here are… disturbing. Please be careful,” he said concernedly.
Alessa nodded, but continued sorting the pictures. The following ones portrayed a group of demons in fighting formation, obviously training. Then there were a couple showing demons in pairs, all fighting.
Stuart pointed to those. “From what is in the written documents, I believe these paired demons are fighting each other in the arena style combats that are mentioned.”
She turned her eyes from the photocopies and read some highlighted paragraphs in a handwritten report that Stuart handed her. They indeed described the kind of activities that the photos seemed to depict.
“I see,” she said, “Some of these demons are quite peaceful. I wonder how they get to make them fight?”
In answer, Stuart shuffled through more of the journal copies. “Here,” he said, handing Alessa one of the sheets, “it's not really very clear here, and there was more to this journal that I couldn't copy. But here it hints at physical coercion, and possibly some sort of magical interference. Some Watchers are well versed in magic, and they may be able to cloud their subjects’ minds to make them do,” he waved his hand over the photos, “these sorts of things.”
“Hijos de Puta,” she said, softly, not even attempting to read the journals this time. She knew about Watchers’ expertise with magic, firsthand.
At the sight of the next group Alessa’s hands trembled. She frantically flipped page after page of pictures of herself… some head shots, others full body shots - most of them obviously taken in the same place the demon ones had been. She looked miserable, pale and thin.
Alessa looked up from the pictures. “I think I'm going to be sick,” she said, her eyes stark.
Stuart laid a hand comfortingly over Alessa's, gently drawing the pictures from her grasp. His face was almost as pale as hers and his eyes held a world of guilt and sorrow. “I'm sorry, I know it's terrible to see these things, and you can't even remember being there. Best to know, as you said, hmm? But perhaps you should not look at any more of them. They don't improve as you move through the stack, I'm afraid.”
Fighting the dizziness, Alessa shook her head. She just needed to know. Gently she took the folder again from his hands. “I... I have to,” she simply said, and opened the it again. She got quickly to her pictures and went on looking.
“No, it can’t be,” she whispered as she got to the last pictures in the pack. They were photographs of herself too - all nude, but for a strange heavy metal collar. Vertigo seemed to engulf her as she saw the very last picture in the set. In it she lay nude on the floor, obviously unconscious, her body bearing the marks of a severe beating. Her dark hair, matted and messy as it was, didn’t hide the swelling and cuts in her face.
Her hand flew to her mouth as nausea raked her body. “I’m sorry,” she managed to say before she ran to the bathroom.
Stuart gave her a few moments before he carefully collected the pictures and put them back in order. He glanced at the two that she hadn’t seen – the ones after her personal set. It was probably just as well she hadn’t seen those, but she had insisted that he bring everything he’d copied. The last photos were of two different demons, each strung up and bearing the unmistakeable marks of extreme torture.
Putting them all back in the envelope he rose and moved to the bathroom door, asking softly, “Are you going to be all right, Alessa?”
Inside the bathroom, Alessa was panting, leaning on her hands over the white marble sink. The physical nausea had passed, but she was still shaking from shock, watching her reflection without seeing; all she could see was herself in those pictures. Naked and beaten. She shook her head at the feeling of sheer helplessness, raging inside. Finally, she turned the faucet on and splashed the cold water on her face. She heard Stuart’s voice but couldn’t make herself answer him, but when the tapping turned louder she forced herself to answer.
“I’m ok, Stuart. I’ll be right out,” she said, straightening her shoulders and turning the water off. She dried her face with a plush towel and cleaned the black trails her mascara had left down her cheeks from the water on her face. She wasn’t crying, she wouldn’t cry. At least not yet, not here.
When she was calmer, she opened the door silently and walked out of the bathroom. “I’m sorry,” she said, and her voice was steady, “I didn’t want to worry you.”
“But I find I can’t help myself from worrying anyway,” he said with a sad smile. “I tried to prepare you as best I could, but those were terrible images you had to see. That anyone could do such things…” Stuart clenched his fists as his rage grew. “I swear, I will do everything in my power to find the names of those responsible and I will hunt them down to the ends of the Earth.”
Calming himself with an effort when he saw how his anger served only to upset her more, he led Alessa to one of the lounge chairs. “Have a seat, gather your wits about you again. Would you like me to fetch you anything? Water? Wine?”
Alessa smiled weakly at the man, letting herself be led for a second before recovering her wits.
“No, thank you. I don’t think I can hold anything now...”
She didn’t sit down and refused to look at the desk. Instead she eyed the balcony and moved towards it. “I reckon some fresh air will be best now,” she said, sensing Stuart follow her. She felt somewhat disconnected, like something had suddenly snapped inside and allowed her to watch at herself from the outside. She needed some time to grasp all of this.
Stuart leaned on the railing beside Alessa and took in the view, content to spend the time in quiet contemplation. The breeze up here was cool, and he found himself gazing at Alessa’s profile in the reflected light from the streets far below. After several long minutes of silence, while he watched Alessa’s breathing grow slower and calmer, he finally cleared his throat.
“Um, Alessa,” he said, reaching out as though to brush a tendril of hair from her face and then letting his hand drop, embarrassed. Coughing softly again, he tried once more.
“Alessa, were you right? Do you feel better now for knowing? What you had to go through – it was horrible, and I doubt you’ll ever want to fully remember all of it. But seeing and reading about what happened – I hope it has helped you. I…” he glanced down at his hands that gripped the railing before looking back up into her eyes, “I sometimes wonder if I should never have tried to contact you about this, and seeing you so upset… Maybe ignorance is bliss.”
“No, it isn’t. Being afraid of the dark isn’t good; the workings of your mind sometimes surpass what lies in the darkness.” She chuckled, humourlessly, “Not this time, though.”
Shuddering, and not only from the chill of the night, she wrapped her arms around herself to get warm and stop the shivering. “I understand you put yourself at risk coming to tell me all about this.” She turned to him, “Thank you, Stuart.”
Sketching a small bow, Stuart swept up Alessa’s hand and kissed the back of it chivalrously. “No danger is too great for such a lovely lady, Alessa,” he said. Then once more he let go of her and turned to face the city again.
“I have a confession to make, actually,” he said hesitantly, “And I hope you won’t think ill of me for it.”
“You do?” She was distracted, but focused on him with an effort and chuckled, “And don’t presume on my reactions, not even I can bet on them any longer.”
Stuart answered with an almost shy smile and explained, “You see, I found this information, these letters from members of the Council discussing the ‘problem’ and saying they should wait to gather more evidence, and all that. I read about the Watcher they managed to have infiltrate the ring and his reports on a demoness who’d had her memory erased. And I found the photos and… well, it made my blood boil to think of what was happening on that island.”
He turned to face her fully, “But the reason I travelled all this way to find you, the reason I decided that you deserved to know what had happened was… Well, I saw something in your eyes in those photographs, Alessa. I saw… I don’t know, but I couldn’t let it rest. I had to come see you. And now that I have…” He flushed and tilted his face away from her again, falling silent.
“Stuart, I… I don’t know what to tell you.” She felt strange, listening to his confession. The man filled her with a warm sensation; he seemed so shy and charming. And everything in his manner showed he thought of her as something precious. “I’m not that special. I’m just a wo- a demon,” she corrected herself.
Smiling warmly at him, she caught his hand in hers. It was soft, obviously not the hand of a warrior, but it was strong too. He could probably defend himself; Watchers weren’t harmless, as Ellis had pointed out. *Ellis,* she thought, and winced.
Sensing her flinch, Stuart closed his eyes and gently withdrew his hand from her grasp. “I’m sorry, this is entirely the wrong time and place to say such things. Please forgive my affront.”
“No. I mean, don’t be silly. It’s not affronting to be appreciated.” She smiled and looked at him straight in the eye, “But I agree it isn’t the moment… however, I’m not so sure about this not being the place,” she added, turning her eyes to the spectacular view beneath them.
They stood in silence for a couple of minutes, Alessa still trying to sort out the feelings inside herself. Was she the same woman who had watched those dreadful images of herself, beaten and defenceless? She couldn’t make the connection any more, she felt half the woman who had entered the room.
“Well, thank you for not running in terror from my boorishness, at least. Though after the way I’ve behaved tonight you have every reason to.”
Stuart regarded her for a moment then slowly, giving Alessa plenty of time to pull away gracefully, he leant towards her, lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair from her face. He was caught, trapped by those mesmerising green eyes of hers, and he found himself whispering, “You are indeed the most beautiful woman – or demon,” he amended with a mischievous grin, “that I have ever seen.”
He was so close that she could smell his faint scent, a mix of aftershave, tobacco and man. Alessa closed her eyes, and felt a tingling feeling going through her. It wasn’t the hot and wild desire Ellis awakened, nor the deeper feelings Chance and Morris had provoked. She felt warm and calm and relaxed; somehow he made her feel clean, after all the ugliness she had discovered tonight. Unconsciously she held her breath, waiting for the kiss that was surely coming. She wanted, craved to know how it would feel.
Hesitantly, almost unable to believe that Alessa hadn’t drawn back in horror from him, Stuart gently brushed his lips across hers, breathing in the subtle scent of her and tasting the sweetness of her mouth. When, after a moment, she still hadn’t drawn back, but indeed seemed to be a willing accomplice, he snaked one arm around her shoulder and drew her a little towards him, pressing his mouth to hers just a little more firmly.
Alessa smiled under his kiss, sensing his hesitation at first and his growing confidence later, but still she didn’t respond. She simply accepted his kiss and moved obediently closer when Stuart wrapped his other arm around her waist. In a way she was testing herself, surely she would feel something… some repulsion for the intimate contact after all she’d learned? How did rape victims react to intimacy? How had Inés reacted?
However, with her mouth still closed and just the firm, warm contact of his lips on hers she could only feel her need for more grow in her; and that surely was good, wasn’t it? Tentatively, she raised her arms to lock behind his nape and she opened her mouth just a little, showing him that she was willing to take a step further.
Although he wanted her, more than he dared think, Stuart pulled back a little, breaking Alessa’s hold around his neck. “No, Alessa, I can’t do this. I’m sorry, I feel as though I’m taking advantage of you.”
He found himself still standing so close to her that he could taste her breath as she exhaled, and he moved back a step further with eyes downcast to avoid meeting her gaze. “I don’t want to ruin anything by moving too fast, Alessa. You’re vulnerable right now, I feel I should let you have time to consider.”
Alessa just looked at him for a second, puzzled, then took a step back herself, blushing furiously. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened to me.” Nervously, she straightened her dress and looked around, trying to find something to occupy her hands, they felt so empty without him to hold. “I think… I mean, I should be going,” she stammered.
Stuart nodded, embarrassed, “Of course, of course. But… if it’s not too much to ask… do you think I might see you again? When we don’t have all,” he gestured to the papers scattered over the table inside, “all this between us.”
Her face twisted in disgust, and she looked at the table, then again at him. She saw the hurt in his eyes and guessed that that he had read her wrong, and felt the need to reassure him. “I don’t see why not,” she said, smiling, although still a little shaken. “You’ve paid me a great service here, Stuart, I won’t forget it.”
She knew those weren’t the words he was expecting to hear, not after what had almost transpired between them. Alessa saw him nod, his eyes downcast, and couldn’t help feeling guilty. “It’s just that I’m… well, I’m in a relationship, well, sort of…”
“Oh,” he said resignedly, then he frowned in confusion. “Sort of?” he asked, his blue eyes coming alive once more, the warmth in them burning.
*Damn, what is it with me and Englishmen?* she asked herself again.
“Yes, sort of,” she stated, and breathed in. She took a step closer and stood on her tip toes to press a light kiss on his mouth, the tingling feeling in her belly coming back. With a smile, she retreated before he could move. “I’d love to see you again, Stuart,” she said.
A shy smile started at the corners of his mouth and grew to a broader one as Alessa’s words sank in, the faint touch of her lips lingering on his mouth. “And… this other man – won’t he mind? I mean, if you’re already spoken for… But if you think it’s all right, yes I would dearly love to see you again.”
He grasped her hand lightly in his own, and rubbed his thumb across the back of her knuckles in soft circular motions. “I will dream of nothing else until I see you again… When can we meet? Is tomorrow night all right?”
“Well, I don’t think Ellis wouldn’t mind, but I’m not ‘spoken for’ either, as you graciously said. My life is my very own.” She thought about his proposal; tomorrow night may not be possible though. “Probably not so soon, Stuart. Why don’t we talk again next weekend?”
Putting on a brave face through his disappointment, Stuart bowed over her hand and kissed it lightly where he’d been rubbing it just moments before. “Very well, I shall anxiously await the coming of the weekend,” he said with a sad smile.
“It may be impolite to ask, but I feel we have come so far in such a short time already that perhaps you will permit it – but,” his voice grew hopeful, “would it be too inconvenient for you if I were to phone you during the rest of this week? Or must I hang on the mere memory of your voice until we meet again?”
She laughed softly at that. “Of course you can,” she said, “I don’t mind my friends calling me.” Looking around searching for her shawl, her eyes rested on the papers again and her expression curdled. “Do you mind if I take those? I’d like to… to read them more thoroughly.”
“Certainly. I imagined you might wish to take them, to review them at your leisure,” he said, moving to the table and gathering up the assorted papers back into the folder. The envelope of pictures he also placed inside the folder and handed it to Alessa. “It’s all only photocopies, unfortunately, but most of it is quite legible. Watchers tend to have neat handwriting,” he laughed hollowly. “It’s one of our more noble traits, it seems.”
“Not all Watchers are like that.” She found herself defending the organisation she hated and almost laughed at the irony of it. “I’ve always said that I love rogue Watchers.” Her eyes twinkled at the familiar words now.
A small chuckle escaped Stuart’s lips. “Ah, so there’s hope for me yet,” he said cheekily.
Noting her readiness to leave, he sighed and escorted her to the door. “Well, I must say I thoroughly enjoyed our dinner, and I loved hearing about all your adventures. I’m sorry that our meeting was under such terrible circumstances, but I am very glad we have met.”
“Yo también, Stuart. Me too,” she said with a smile as she wrapped the gauzy green shawl around herself and left the room, the folder secure in her hands.
***
Thanks again to Heather for writing a great Stuart. :D
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
*** Monday, April 23 - 1:35pm ***
Longwood Estates
”BASTARDS!”
Cole pulled his head out of the refrigerator door. "Did you hear that?"
His friend Kyle was looking tensed as if there were danger around the corner. "Who else is in the house? I thought it was just you and Alessa?"
"That," said Cole, realizing who had shouted downstairs, "was probably Oz. He lives over the garage and mows the lawn. You probably won't believe it, but he's the guy we dropped in the aqueduct a while back."
"No fucking way," was Kyle's reaction.
Cole nodded. "He came in here the first day I was feeling better and gave me 'I'll reach my hand down your throat and tickle your kidneys'. So I laid some black mojo on him and he's backed off since then."
Kyle lit another cigarette. Cole just tightened his mouth. Alessa had been pretty clear about Kyle smoking inside the mansion. If he kept crossing her she'd throw them both out.
Kyle started to get up, "I think I'll just go down and 'apologize' for what we did. It got out of hand a little and to be honest, I'm glad he isn't dead."
Cole shook his head, "Better not. He's still a little touchy. He’s been carrying a sword around lately and he's pretty strong."
Kyle narrowed his eyes at Cole, "Who is afraid of who, here?"
Cole could feel his anger rising. "I am not afraid of that old man and his shiny sword. I could squash him like a bug. He's just the hired help, but Alessa would be mad if he got hurt again. Besides, we got in enough trouble over fucking with Ellis."
"Who's we?" said Kyle holding up his hands, "I was just watching. But I had your back, Merlin. Really."
"Well unless you want to get us both in trouble I'd leave him alone, Kyle."
"What’s the worst that could happen?" said Kyle, heading towards the basement stairs.
Oz wiped his nose and face on the towel and stood up. The sword had left a clean hole through the vinyl of the bag but it was repairable. Oz withdrew the sword from the bag slowly to keep the hole as small as possible. Then he heard the footsteps on the stairs.
He slid behind the door to the workout room and waited to see who was coming after him. He held his breath in anticipation.
Kyle walked lightly down the stairs but got a strange feeling of dread in the low-ceilinged basement. He could see the pool table to one side and a slightly opened door. Kyle sniffed the air and smelled sweat. *That must be a workout room,* he thought. He poked the door and peered into the small space.
Inside he could see the weight bench, treadmill, and punching bag. He was about to turn and leave when he caught a glimpse of a mirror. In the mirror he could see the man with the sword hiding behind the door.
Kyle jerked defensively and Oz swung around the door with the sword and grabbed Kyle around the neck. "Come hunting alone? Decided to make sure I was dead this time?"
"Let go of me, you paranoid freak!" Kyle said loudly enough that he hoped Cole could hear him upstairs.
Oz tightened his grip on him but Kyle, despite not having leverage, was able to keep Oz from choking him. Kyle flexed his demonic muscles and pulled Oz's arm from around his shoulder far enough to jab an elbow into Oz's gut. The hard 'thump' of muscle prevented Kyle from breaking the hold.
Oz hissed into his prisoner's ear, "I am not the out-of-shape blob you kicked around the churchyard any more."
"Yeah, mutherfucker, but you can still burn," Kyle said, freeing the demon inside him to manifest. His skin blackened and cracked open, releasing tongues of flame. Oz yelped and let Kyle go. Kyle stretched and felt the fire lick up his arms and chest. He loved this feeling.
"Kaoshian demon!" Oz cursed.
"Yeah, so what are you going to do now, dickhead?" Kyle gloated.
Oz poised with the sword but was interrupted by a piercing wail and torrents of water pouring down from the ceiling. The heat from Kyle's fire had activated the fire alarm and sprinklers.
Water sizzled and steamed as it struck Kyle and he could feel his body using more and more energy to maintain the flame. If he didn't leave the water soon he would be unconscious on the floor. Oz watched as Kyle retreated from the workroom.
"I guess you get to stand there and be wet, today, eh? Well, now I know you are here and you had better not cross me or Cole again, or else."
"Or else what?" Oz shouted after the steaming Kaoshian demon.
But he didn't answer. The phone was ringing and Oz stepped up and answered it. The alarm company was calling to report it had received a signal. Oz assured them it was under control and that the fire department would not be needed.
Upstairs, Kyle nearly collapsed onto Cole at the top of the stairs. The young mage had been rushing to see what the alarm was about. "What happened? Are you okay? What did the fucker do?"
"Nothing happened," Kyle choked, "I forgot about smoke detectors okay?"
Cole smiled as he guided his friend back to the kitchen. "You... fired up inside?" Cole chuckled.
"Yeah," said Kyle defensively, "Don't tell me you never made a simple mistake before."
Cole's chuckles turned to laughter, and soon both of them were laughing uproariously. Downstairs, Oz's mood was less jovial and was getting blacker by the second.
He began to mop up the gallons of water pooled on the floor and to reset the sprinkler controls. It would take him days to get the place back to normal. *It was all their fault,* he thought, *Thugs, demons, and mages - all of them.*
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, April 25th - 12:07 am
Longwood Estates
Alessa dived yet again into the warm water of the pool, swimming its length back and forth with calmer, more relaxed strokes.
When she got to the house she felt unclean and miserable, the happenings of the night finally catching up with her. She had walked towards the pool purposefully, disrobing as she went. She needed to feel clean again and needed to move, exhaust herself, forget. But when she entered the pool chamber she felt oppressed; the walls, the plants, the humid atmosphere closing on her… With a cry of outrage at her own distress, Alessa grabbed a towel robe from the neatly folded stack and left through the crystal door that led to the outdoors pool.
The night was cool and the water felt warm in contrast, but it didn’t lessen the cold she felt inside. She swam frantically, piercing the water with fury. The tears she hadn’t allowed to pour welled in her eyes and mingled their salty taste with the chlorine tang of the pool’s water, her sobs downed by the splashing sound pounding in her ears. Her frenzy only subsided after she didn’t know how long, didn’t know how many pool lengths…
Finally she turned on her back, floating until her breathing calmed down. The cold air filled her skin with goose bumps, but at least she was feeling warmer now, her body feeling number because of tiredness and not misery. Kicking with lazy movements she glided to the shallow end of the pool and walked out of it, dripping water and smoothing her wet hair.
She leaned over one of the chairs near the pool and took the robe, drying her face and neck with it. A flickering movement caught her eye and she looked up, surprised, to the windows over the garage - Oz’s apartment windows. Quickly she put on the robe to hide her nakedness, ashamed that the man could have seen her like this. She squinted, trying to spot any further movement inside the apartment, but she couldn’t. If Oz had been there he wasn’t any more. She shrugged, she wouldn’t fret by just speculations, not with all the realities she had to fret about.
Tiredly, she walked back to the double doors leading to the indoor pool. At least now she would be able to sleep, but frowned when she turned on the knob and couldn’t open it. Cursing she peered inside; somehow the lock had fallen into place after she closed the door behind her. She sighed, she was certain she had locked the front door too, after entering the house. It seemed that she had efficiently locked herself out of her home.
Cole and the demon weren’t home, and Donny didn’t sleep in the house any more. She had preferred to have the woman drive to her own house every day; she didn’t feel comfortable with live in service, it diminished her privacy. Oz was different. He didn’t actually live in the house, and she felt kind of safe with him around, more so after knowing about his nature.
With a last angry glance at the door, she looked at his apartment again. Well, awake or not, she would have to bother him. He had a spare key, after all. Tightening the robe around her, Alessa walked towards the wooden staircase behind the garage. She climbed it barefoot and silent, and knocked on the windowed door with the little white curtain. She heard a ruffling movement inside, confirming her suspicions about the flickering at the window. Well, she needed to enter her house again.
Knocking again, she asked, "Oz? Is that you? If you are up, can you talk to me for a minute?"
"Just a minute!" he called from inside and Alessa relaxed. The sounds of movement inside grew in tenor, and she heard something knocking on the floor. Then his approaching steps. Oz looked flushed when he opened the door. "Alessa, you are up late. Come in," he said calmly.
Alessa looked up at his flushed face and smiled. He had seen her. “I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, Oz, but I seem to have locked myself out of the house,” she apologized.
Oz smiled warmly. “No problem, Alessa, I have my key right here. I keep a key to this place under the potted plant there on the porch since I did the same thing the week I first moved in. If you ever…” Oz trailed off, his embarrassment stopping him from continuing.
Alessa flushed too. *Why am I suddenly the centre of everyone’s interest when I don’t know what I want myself?* she thought. “Thanks, I’ll bring this right back.”
She turned and walked back to the pool doors and stopped briefly at the base of the stairs to look up at the apartment window. He was watching her – had been watching her and was watching her now. Like Stuart who had seen those pictures, she had been unaware of both Oz’s and Stuart’s attentions. She shuddered. *Best do this quickly, I don’t want to have to think about a man’s eyes on me right now. Any man’s.*
Moments later – after unlocking her door – she was leaving the key on Oz’s doormat ready to knock and run when the door opened. “I thought I saw you there, Alessa.”
“Um… yes, didn’t want to disturb you. Thanks. Good night.” She turned awkwardly and began to walk away.
“Wait, Alessa. Something is bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?”
Alessa could feel tears welling in her eyes and the burning on her cheeks. “No,” she choked with her back to him.
His warm firm hand rubbed her shoulder as she stood there with one foot on the steps. “Is it something I’ve done?” he asked quietly. His guilt was clear in his voice.
“Yes. No. I don’t know,” she said before her tears slipped free. She turned to Oz and pounded her fists in rage against his chest.
When she finally stopped thrashing and quietly sobbed into his robe he gently led her into his flat and helped her to a seat on his couch.
He sat in a chair opposite her and waited quietly. “Oz, I…”
Oz held up a hand, “Don’t do this if you don’t want to. I’ll listen and I’ll be your friend and not tell you what I think. But if you don’t want me to know, then don’t tell me.”
Alessa nodded. She didn’t want him to know. She didn’t want anyone to know.
But she knew that eventually she’d have to tell somebody. Nikolai was trying to learn what had happened to her, so was Ellis. What Stuart had found out would be essential to their investigation. *Ellis.* She winced again. He would want to know how the date had gone and why she hadn’t kept her promise to see him afterwards… She would have to tell him – them – something; just not the truth, not about the nude pictures, not about the ‘concubine’ part.
But that… she had to tell someone about that, about what had really happened. Someone who wouldn’t start raging in jealousy and outrage, like Ellis would probably do, or start killing Watchers as Nikolai and his Russian mob connections would most assuredly do. Tash… she snorted, Tash would most likely just say ‘I told you so’, and trust her dear Watcher friends to solve the ‘renegade’ problem; the same Watchers who had let said renegades get away with it without doing anything so far.
Oz, on the other hand, wouldn’t do anything like that. He would listen, and not talk - not judge her - just be her friend, as he had promised. She didn’t doubt for a minute that she could trust him.
So she told him - all of it. Her kidnapping, the dreams, the virus, the renegade Watchers, her… slavery and torture all relayed in a sort of emotionless monotone. Oz was getting uncomfortable listening to her tell it and as the story unfolded, she recognized the detached tone of her voice. It was as if it wasn’t her own life she was talking about.
When she finished with that tale she kept going - Chance, Ellis, Stuart… and now Oz. Oz flushed when she mentioned seeing him in the window. He lowered his head in shame.
Oz whispered, “I am truly sorry, Alessa. I didn’t mean to add to your troubles. It wasn’t intentional, it was more… accidental.” He looked into Alessa’s changing eyes, “For a moment you reminded me of Margaret. I have not thought about her in that way for many years. As for the other things, it is a lot to take in. I’ll keep your story to myself, and if you want to talk about it some more, I am happy to help.”
She felt empted like a deflated balloon. She wanted to sleep and never wake up. Oz, true to his word, had offered no judgment or advice. *Or absolution.* The strange thought appeared out of nowhere. Oz had really affected her. Absolution was a concept her nonbeliever mind had never considered, but her world had made an upside down flip upon knowing Oz’s true nature; similar to the one it had when her human father had presented her to her demon kin. Now she considered the idea again. Absolution implied being forgiven; but forgiven for what? For being kidnapped, tortured and most probably raped? She shook her head; it wasn’t her fault, it would never be her fault. She didn’t need absolution, she told herself with more force than necessary.
A soft cough from Oz startled her out of her musings, and guiltily Alessa glanced at the clock: 1:50 am. “I am so sorry, Oz I’ve kept you up very late. I had better be getting to bed and leave you alone.”
Oz stood and unexpectedly hugged her, saying soothingly into her ear, “It is okay, Alessa. I understand and it is okay. God bless you and sleep well.”
*God?* she snorted mentally, *Here we go again.* But the idea had some appeal and a new dimension, so she embraced the sentiment if not the desperate hope of divine intervention. She relaxed for a moment in his arms and felt warm friendship and not some sexual predation. *It can be all right,* she told herself, *if it always feels like this.*
“It’s just as well you aren’t English, Oz,” she said cryptically, as she disentangled from his embrace, watching his handsome face so full of concern. “Thank you for everything, and I’m sorry if you got more than what you had bargained for.”
She walked back into the house with a warm comfortable feeling that she nursed until she went to bed. Some time in the night, the nightmares ate that warm feeling and she woke just before sunrise sweating and panting.
Getting up, she walked to her desk and opened the folder Stuart had given her. She took out the pictures of her naked and walked to the bathroom; there, she threw them into the sink and lit a match.
She watched the loathsome pictures burn in the sink and, as after talking to Oz, she felt somewhat better.
nightwalkers lament
*** Monday, April 23, 2007, late night ***
*** The Watchers’ Council Los Angeles estate ***
The Nightwalker sat on the stone bench unobtrusively watching Ana as she sparred against one of the grunts. The demon was exceptionally quick on its feet and Delancre had asked Nightwalker to stay up and keep an eye out just in case things got out of hand. At this point, it was far too late in the game to allow anything to happen to his general, but on the other hand, Ana would not have accepted being watched over so he was forced to do so in secret, remaining in the shadows ready to interfere at the slightest indication that it might become necessary to do so.
Nightwalker was a good soldier. He served Lord Delancre without question, and he was merciless. Those were qualities that were highly valued for anyone in the Watchers’ Corps. Nightwalker knew that, and once he’d taken pride in those facts. That was before. Nightwalker could only think of things in terms of before and after now. Before he had been proud of his prowess. Before he had had a purpose. Before he had believed everything Delancre told him. Before he had wanted to live.
Silently tracing the rigid scars on his face, Nightwalker remembered that awful night, and he wondered, not for the first time, about the pieces that were missing. He had wanted so much to get revenge, to make Amanda pay for all the pain she’d caused him. That had been his motivating force, and it had given him drive. It had given him a reason to keep going. That had all changed when Galen Eldridge had plunged the dagger into his heart… killing him.
Nightwalker couldn’t recall what being dead was like. He didn’t have any words of wisdom to share with those who asked, and they did ask. Over and over again, for the first few weeks, demons came to him, those pressed into service to Lord Delancre. They were often hopeful, believing in one afterlife or the other. They wanted some reassurance that once their lives of servitude ended they would find some peace. Nightwalker could offer them none. Finally, word spread and the questions stopped. For the others, the questions stopped.
The problem was, as he saw it, that for Nightwalker, the questions never stopped. They simply changed, became different questions. He had awoken to a world of pain, inside and out. The pain was terrible, nearly unbearable at times. Death had been a respite, but it was one soon denied to him. Delancre had plans for his Nightwalker and those plans would not be thwarted by something as trivial as death. So he’d been resurrected, an agonizing prospect he would never recommend to anyone.
The resurrection had changed him as well. It had left him stuck in his night form, his demonic face, but a face scarred by his ordeal, leaving him hideous on the outside. The wounds he had sustained still ached and throbbed constantly, especially the stab wound that had been the end of his previous life. But that pain was minimal compared to the torture of his thoughts and dreams.
Ever since his “rebirth” Nightwalker had been plagued with memories from his previous life, from Ryan’s life. He couldn’t begin to make sense of them. It was as if he was missing some vital piece of information that would bring all his confusion to an end. Nightwalker had vivid memories of being tortured brutally by Amanda Blaise. Those memories had once driven him, but now they were jumbled up with other memories, impossible memories. He could see Delancre, his savior, wielding the whips, laughing at his pain. He could see the man executing the torture he’d once blamed on the woman, and it made no sense because both memories were clear, both vivid, but only one could be real.
“Which one?” Nightwalker whispered his words broken torment. “What is real? What happened to my life?”
There were other memories as well; ones that perhaps were more painful. He could remember Delancre sustaining him, guiding him, giving him purpose once again. He had believed the man to be his rescuer, but Nightwalker could also remember Amanda’s sobs, echoing in the dark. He could hear her terrible sadness as she cried and pleaded for him, for his life. It made no sense. None of it made any sense. With each passing day, Nightwalker wondered what was true. He felt himself going mad from the conflicting memories, and he longed for death. Only in death could he be free of the torment, and so he went on fighting for Delancre, praying with each battle that someone would strike him down, but afraid that even then Lord Delancre would never let him go.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
***April 20th, 2007- Adriana’s Apartment- 7:39 pm***
“Adriana, hurry! Ve don’t have all night, my dear,” Brody called out impatiently, relaxing on the soft ivory colored sofa, his $600 Gucci shoes rested across the maple wood coffee table. He dropped his head backwards, looking up at the ceiling while twiddling his thumbs.
Adriana, meanwhile, was slowly putting on her mascara in her bedroom mirror. She was clad in a soft rose pink dress which clung to her every curve and barely covered her. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a tight bun, into which the tips of her hair were curled. The mascara top slid into its container as Drea angrily shouted back to her beau, “Give me a minute!”
Sighing, she gently picked up her $250 Calvin Klein perfume and dabbed her wrists with the intoxicating aroma. Adriana then went through her expensive jewelry box of light maple wood, the contents gleaming as they were slipped on Adriana’s skin, which, as of recently, was restored to its golden color from tanning salons and frequent trips to the beach with Brody.
She sauntered out of her room the best she could in her uncomfortable, yet matching, high heels. Drea’s strides had brought her to Brody, who pulled himself up, giving a sigh of relief.
“Finally… any longer and ve vould be late,” he commented as he ran his hands down his black pinstriped suit, running out any formed wrinkles. Adriana eyed him, a smug look on her face as she reached for her purse on the table. Brody groaned in annoyance, his hand running through his hair.
They quickly left her apartment, which was well hidden. Brody had lied to Peter about its location, knowing that Dominika would eventually get it out of him. Only Brody knew of Adriana’s new place of residence, besides a few of Drea’s friends. Adriana was, for some unknown reason, angry with her family and wanted to block them out completely.
Brody opened the passenger door for Adriana, to which she slipped in without a word. Since becoming involved with Adriana, Brody discovered her short temper and bad moods, but learned to ignore it. He entered his side, fastening his safety belt, and searched through his keys. Once found, Brody slipped the car key into the ignition, starting up the motor of his ‘98 black Eclipse. Despite his high power in the underworld, he still tried to keep a low profile, and his expensive attire was to only be worn on special occasions.
The car roared onto the road, while Brody and Adriana stayed silent. Drea searched her purse, and pulled forth a small compact mirror. She opened it and looked into it, checking her eye liner and shadow. While proceeding to check her make-up, she asked, “Where are we going?”
Brody, whose eyes kept in front of him, simply replied, “A get-together. An important day, for a friend.” He kept unspoken, knowing that Adriana, being as nosy as she was, would bombard him with questions.
She quickly proved him correct by continuing, “What makes today so important? Is it his birthday, an engagement party, a promotion?”
Brody kept his cool, which he was infamous for under uncomfortable situations, and merely took a cigarette from his compartment and stuck it behind his ear. “You can say it’s a party, but it’s not just for any friend… It is my sister’s,” was all he said before pulling forth a reflective lighter from his dashboard and slipped it into his pocket.
Drea closed her compact mirror and returned it to her matching purse, questioning, “Why didn’t you just say that we’re going to your sister’s party? Did you really need to lie to me?”
Brody sighed, vexed by her curiosity. He continued, “I thought you vouldn’t be interested that much. It’s a formal event, nonetheless. Tatiana is turning tventy-von, making her an official adult here.”
Adriana didn’t seem fazed by it until a minute later, when she turned to Brody, a little distressed. “Will Dominika be there?” she inquired, to which he gave her a peculiar expression. Drea sighed and continued, “Will Dominika be there with Peter?”
Brody shook his head, his eyes returning to the road. “No, I vouldn’t expect him to be there. They aren’t very close,” he explained, and said no more.
They rode in silence for a good twenty minutes before Brody announced, “Ve’re here.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
***April 20th, 2007- Club Vosrazhenie- 8:15 pm***
Brody parked his car in the ‘reserved parking’ area, unfastening his safety belt. He opened his door and slipped out, his cigarette already to his lips. Adriana impatiently got out of the car herself and slammed the door shut, walking over to Brody. The Russian lit the cigarette, inhaling the clouding fumes with a relieving pleasure. Drea waved her hand, breaking the haze of smoke near him.
She shot him an annoyed expression and said, “Well, are we gonna stand out here all night or are we gonna go in?”
He raised his index finger, indicating to give him a moment, as he accepted four more long drags from the cigarette. Brody dropped it to the pavement, and crushed it beneath his foot. He looked at Adriana, who was becoming very impatient, who asked, “You all done, slowly killing yourself?”
As the Russian wrapped his arm around the gypsy’s he quipped back at her jokingly, “Not really. Ve can alvays skip the party and spend the rest of the night out here, helping me to achieve emphysema at a more rapid pace.” He saw no humor in Adriana’s face, and decided to start walking, Drea by his side.
Brody led her to the side entrance, to avoid attention. He knocked on the steel door, his knuckles produced a sharp clang noise. The Russian stood, annoyed, and shouting a couplet of words in his native tongue. The metallic door opened at the sound of Brody’s voice, a large and intimidating bouncer standing there, lowering his head as an apology. He moved to the side, allowing Brody and Adriana to continue.
They walked through the club as people bounced about, glitter sparkling on their sweat drenched skin and glow lights between their teeth. Brody and Adriana faced the familiar balcony, where the V.I.P. room was. The bouncers saw Brody and almost immediately moved the eager patrons off the staircase to get their boss up. Two guards pushed back the people as they made their way up the stairs.
As soon as the reached the area, they were bombarded by a group of people, smiling and giving shouts of joy. Adriana and Brody walked into the area, where there was a mix of middle aged Russian men, their drinks tightly in grasp, and young Russian girls, who were enjoying the night’s entertainment. They were singing along with the Russian pop/techno band Ivanushki International, who was singing their song ‘Topolini Pukh’.
Adriana leaned on the cold black railing, listening to the band as Brody said into her ear, “I’m going to be near the pool table if you need me.”
She smiled at him, indicating that her mood had changed. Brody gave his school-boyish, yet wicked, smile and that gave a quick passionate kiss. He walked away, and off to his associates.
Brody approached the inner circle of the Polyakov crime family, as they greeted him. He gleamed at them, and spoke aloud in Russian, “Thank you all for coming to Tatiana’s party. I know my father appreciates you being here while he’s stuck in Moscow. I hope that you enjoy yourselves, and I ask to keep your hands to yourselves when it comes to Tatiana’s friends. We don’t want more of you to be locked up just because your dicks decided to take over your senses for a moment.”
The men laughed at the last part, a few taking a sip from their well crafted beverages. An aging Russian, with the face of a kind old man but the eyes of a killer, approached Brody and smiled. “My congratulations to your sister, but we have more important matters to discuss. For example, the recent change of behavior in a number of our patrons…” he told him, moving him away from the table.
They moved to a corner of the room, away from everyone. Brody looked around and asked, “What do you mean?”
The old man sighed, and continued, “Our demons patrons. Over the past few months, a number of them have been causing many of the fights and such. I’ve never seen them like this before, and I’ve been here since ’92.”
Brody groaned, his hands going through his hair once more. He was a fairly young man, and already so many problems had befallen him. The Russian sighed and continued, “What do you think caused this?”
The elder mobster, whom Brody had grown up knowing as Uncle Yasha, sighed himself, which, was followed by a puff from his imported Cuban cigar.
“For the type of demons going crazy, I have no idea. I heard some things about a Council of some sort here, but that’s about it. I’m not as good at finding information as I used to be,” Uncle Yasha explained, bringing his cranberry and vodka to his withered lips.
Adriana, meanwhile, was gazing out on the entire club, smiling a bit as she tapped her foot to the rhythm of the song. Drea let the music take over her thoughts, and offered her an escape from reality. She closed her eyes and began to hum, when she instantly stopped. Her eyes fluttered open. Someone was watching her. Her head moved side to side as she moved from the railing.
Suddenly, she spotted from the corner a thin figure with locks of dark brown curls that fell past the shoulders. It was a young woman, who had radiating icy blue eyes and soft ivory skin. In her hands was a half-gone margarita. She brought the glass to her thin, cherry lips and drank a quarter of what was left. Adriana moved closer to her, her hand sliding against the railing.
The girl looked at her drink and giggled a bit, indicating that she had had one margarita too many. Her eyes returned to Adriana. A low voice came from her lips, and spoke, with small indication of a Russian accent, “Vy does each of my brothers insist on having their own bludnitsa?”
Drea’s anger rose, for she knew what that word meant. ‘Whore’. Brody had often used it to explain who Peter was with when Dominika called his cell phone. She walked closer to the girl, her expression sour. “Watch your tongue, bitch. You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” she said harshly to her. Drea was so close to the girl that she could smell the alcohol on her breath.
The girl laughed at Adriana, staggering a bit. She quickly turned serious and looked on the gypsy with cold eyes. “Do you realize who I am? I am…” The girl drank some of her martini before continuing, “I am Tatiana Yurinovna Polyakova, only daughter of Yuri Polyakov! I could have you killed in a heart beat!”
Adriana looked upon Tatiana, who looked more like sixteen than twenty-one. Drea’s large brown eyes focused on the young Russian girl and spoke sharply, “I’m not going anywhere, and if you even think about having me killed you’re gonna have to face Brody later, and I don’t think he’ll be happy about it.”
Tatiana went into a fit of laughs, most likely caused by the alcohol. She continued to look at Adriana, her eyes glazed. “You’re letting a sociopath stick his dick in you every night. Tell me, how does that feel?”
Adriana looked at the girl curiously and questioned her, “What the hell are you babbling about?”
The Polyakov daughter giggled some more, swirling what was left of her drink in her glass. Through her fit of laughter, she managed to continue, ”Brody… he vas in a mental institution for five years in Siberia for being a sociopath. Five years! Mama cried every night about him, and papa was often distracted at work. Brody, first son to Yuri Polyakov, heir to the family business, vas locked up for being a sociopath!
“Lo and behold, the quiet girl from his biology class from college came to visit him every possible chance she had. She flew from Moscow to Siberia basically every veekend! She helped him through all of it, and helped him to pass college. That is true love. That is vy she is the mother of his child; that is vy she will be the future Don’s vife, and you vill be nothing more than an old mistress of his who he von’t give a second thought to,” Tatiana announced, overcoming the alcohol in her body and managing to get her feelings out.
A fire within Adriana began to flicker, and as Tatiana’s hurtful words reached her ears, it grew to unbelievable proportions. She knew that he did have a girlfriend and a child at home, but him being a sociopath and being in an institution for five years? Drea knew not whether it was true or not, but she came to a conclusion; she was sick of this girl and she was pissing her off.
SLAP
Tatiana collapsed to the floor, her glass slipping from her hands and shattering on the floor. Adriana stood over Tatiana, breathing heavily. The whole room had cast their gaze upon the girls. Drea, filled with an uncontrollable rage, walked away from Tatiana and towards Brody, who stood in the corner with shock. Not looking at him she muttered, “I wanna go home.”
Brody, seeing his sister give a hateful glare at Adriana, turned to the gypsy and commented, “Vait in the car.”
Drea groaned and continued, “Brody, I-”
Brody, closing his eyes, raised his voice and repeated himself, “Vait in the car!”
Adriana, fuming, did as Brody said and walked out of the room and down the staircase, security helping her along. Through this, she kept asking herself, *What’s wrong with me? Why the hell did I just hit that girl? She didn’t deserve that; she was drunk and upset that I was there with her brother. What’s going on with me?*
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
25th April, 10:32am – Watcher’s Council Mansion, LA
Kyle strolled up the road to the gate of Delancre’s mansion for his first official training session. He could have got a lift with Moore in the limo, but the stuffy git just made him uncomfortable. In the end, it was just better to walk even if it was a hell of a long way.
Speaking his name at the front gate, he passed into the complex with ease. Delancre had made his identity aware to the guards, so there was no trouble there. Once inside the mansion itself it was not long until Moore caught up with him.
“You could have got a lift, you know,” the Brit said, strolling down the main corridor towards Kyle.
Kyle shrugged and didn’t say anything.
“Well, then. I hope you have fully recovered from the last time you were here.” Moore didn’t wait for an answer. In fact, it wasn’t really a question in the first place. “Good. Lord Delancre has decreed that you should be introduced to Ana, and that we should go from there-”
“Woah. Ana?” Kyle asked, holding up a hand.
“Yes, Ana,” Moore answered, then cocked his head. “Oh, of course. You aren’t aware of Ana yet are you?”
“Does it look like it?”
“Not really. Ana is the general of the Lord Delancre’s army.”
Kyle snorted. “You have a little girl in charge of an army?”
Moore gave one of his rare smiles in return. “Ana is no mere girl. She is the Slayer.”
There was one of those long pauses in which one could hear a pin dropping. During the pause, Kyle’s jaw fell open and he stared wide-eyed. *The Slayer is real?* “She’s the Slayer? No joke?”
“None at all. You didn’t know?”
“Yeah, ‘cos this is the look of somebody in the know,”1 Kyle replied with his jaw still agape. “I thought the Slayer was just a myth. Like the vampire boogey-man.”
“I can quite assure you she is not. If you’d just like to come this way I shall show you.” Moore held open his arm as an invitation. Kyle stepped forward and they started walking through the mansion.
***Some time later***
Kyle suddenly jolted, snapping to focus on his surroundings. He was in a training room with a few of the regular demon soldiers and Ana, who had been talking. To him, by the look on her face. “Huh… wha… huh?” he muttered.
Ana scowled at him, “Is there nothing but smoke between your ears, fire demon? I said, since you're our newest recruit, not everyone has seen you in action.” The end of the staff she was holding thumped down loudly on the wooden floor, making Kyle jump. “Demonstrate for us.”
Her voice turned overly sweet, “Unless of course you'd rather daydream?”
What was he doing again? Oh, right. Training. With the Slayer. Shaking his head, Kyle bent to collect his staff. He’d have time to think over his little spacing out later. Right now, there was some ass-kicking in hand.
“Nah, I’m good. All right,” a grin spread across his face, “who wants me to kick their ass first?”
***
1 This is my tribute to the last episode of Friends, one of Chandler’s lines. RIP, thou shalt be sorely missed.
Thanks to Heather for writing the brief Ana part.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
***April 23rd, 2007- Romania- 4:35 pm***
“Thank you for welcoming us to your home, Mr. and Mrs. Lautari,” Mr. Bing announced, as Apollonija handed him a fresh brew of tea.
She gave a cup to Mr. Cutterback while replying kindly, “I should be t’anking you. T’e last veek has been very difficult for us, and ve’re happy to have company.”
Apollonija sat next to Dmitri as they faced the two Watchers. They drank their tea slowly, Apollonija shaking hers a bit. Despite her friendly smile, her eyes were coated in heartbreak and worry. It was clear that she was still upset over Polina running away. And to also have Adriana and Gwen missing… her life seemed to be falling down around her. Dmitri felt her heartache, breaking down in private at work and such, but held a better front.
Mr. Cutterback cleared his throat and smiled. “We at the Watchers’ Council feel for your pain, and we are offering our condolences. However, we can do nothing to help unless Mrs. Yolanda Lautari agrees to align the Kalderash Clan with the Council. Until then, the only thing we can offer is our sympathy,” the Englishman said coolly, hinting at something to them.
Mr. Bing sipped his warm tea, taking in its sweet taste. Placing it on his lap, he looked at the gypsy couple in a businesslike manner. “We have been receiving reports that a peculiar ‘cold’ has been going around, causing people to act a bit ‘abnormal’,” he began, clearly leaving out important details in order to receive any conclusive information, “And we want to know how far it’s reached. Tell me, have there been any cases of such description around the clan?”
The Lautari couple sat back and thought for a moment. The Watchers began tapping their feet, waiting for them to come up with any possible answers. Mr. Cutterback, becoming inpatient, spoke aloud, “Has anyone in your family been acting odd? Your daughters, your son, your mother?…”
Apollonija scrunched her nose while she thought, then proceeded to shake her head. “No von I can t’ink of. Adriana has been missing, but she’s in Los Angeles, and she’s been so busy lately vit vork and school, I’m sure she’s just too busy to call,” she began, trying the convince herself about the latter. She continued, “Dominika is Dominika; she’ll call ven she’s in trouble; Alesander has alvays been very distant from t’e family; and Polina… I blame myself for her running avay. I should have seen it coming months ago. Even Yolanda is fine… for the psycho she is. No, everyt’ing seems to be normal.”
Both men gave faux smiles. “Ah, I see. Well, we originally came to see how you were all faring, and since it seems to be well, Mr. Cutterback and I will be taking our leave. Thank you for your hospitality. Good day,” Mr. Bing announced, placing his cup of tea on the table before him and standing up. Mr. Cutterback repeated Mr. Bing’s actions.
Dmitri stood up before the men and said politely, “Let me show you out.”
The Watchers smiled and shook their heads. “No, no, we wish not to trouble you. We’ll just take the kitchen door out, thank you,” Mr. Cutterback replied, and he and his associate left for the kitchen.
They rushed through the kitchen, and would have been out quickly had a voice not called out, “You seem disappointed. Didn’t get vat you vanted, boys?”
The men turned to see Yolanda at the kitchen table, sewing what appeared to be a small, wool mint green sweater. The elder gypsy smiled.
“I remember you two, t’e Vatchers… You came two veeks before,” she commented, returning to her knitting.
Mr. Bing and Mr. Cutterback looked at each other and decided to stand properly for Yolanda. She continued, “Vat brings you back here, in t’e middle of Rumania? Come to inject me vit somet’ing else?”
The Watchers were speechless. Mr. Bing cleared his throat. “I… I d-don’t know w-what you mean, M-Mrs. Lautari…” he replied, fumbling over his words.
The aging visionary plastered a fake smile on her face as she cast her gaze upon them. “You know vat I mean. I get visions; you expect me not to know t’at you injected me vit somet’ing?” she alleged, looking back at her sewing.
“I just don’t know vat it vas. But I vill. I assure you of t’at,” She went on, when she grunted a bit. Yolanda held up her left pointer finger, where at the tip, a small amount of blood began to seep out. She signed, and grabbed a nearby tissue and wiped off the blood. The elder Lautari rose from her seat at the kitchen table, and began to go through drawers in the kitchen. She found a small band aid, and wrapped it around the wound.
Yolanda picked up the tissue, which was stained with a bit of her blood, and proceded towards the garbage when she noticed Mr. Bing and Mr. Cutterback were observing her every move. She glanced at the tissue and then at the men. “I know vat you vant… I’m not t’e first. I pricked my finger just for you two. You see, I haven’t pricked my finger sewing in at least tventy years. I just vant you two to be happy,” she explained to them.
The elder visionary walked up to the Watchers and grabbed Mr. Bing’s hand. Her long, aged fingers placed themselves in the center of his palm, and let go of the tissue. Slowly she closed his hand, let go of it, and stepped back. “You have vat you vant. Leave,” she said in a very monotone voice.
The men just seemed to stand there, looking at Bing’s hand. Both men sighed calmly. Mr. Cutterback then began, “Mrs. Lautari, if you would only let us say out our propisition…”
Yolanda, annoyed, raised her hand at the door, her palm to the ceiling and her fingers pointed at the door. Her eyes focused on the it and spoke loudly, “Patefacio!”¹ With that, the door opened.
Her hand moved towards the Watchers, who startled backwards. Yolanda focused on Mr. Cutterback and titled her head. “Sicco!”² she elevated her voice.
As the word left her lips, Mr. Cutterback was pushed backwards, through the door, and thrown outside thirty feet from the door’s threshold.
Mr. Bing staggered backwards, trying to get our of the door before Yolanda made him. Her hand pointed to Mr. Bing, and she spoke quickly and clearly, “Sicco!”, causing him to go flying in the direction of Mr. Cutterback.
She walked up the threshold, looking out to see Mr. Bing lying on Mr. Cutterback. Yolanda smiled *Practice does make perfect.* She raised her hand and said calmly, “Propinquus.”³ The door closed instantly.
Out in the back yard, Mr. Bing began to stir, slowly rising. He turned to see Mr. Cutterback, groaning from the attack. Mr. Bing rose up, stumbling, and pulled up his companion. The Watcher put his co-worker’s arm around his neck, helping him out of the yard. As they left, Mr. Bing commented, “She’s strong.”
Mr. Cutterback sighed and replied, “I know.”
Mr. Bing shook his head a bit and continued, “Hyde 232 seems to have no effect on her.”
Mr. Cutterback gave an exasperated sigh and replied, “I know…”
They moved towards the car in which they were brought there, while Mr. Bing remarked, “I really did not see that coming.”
Mr. Cutterback groaned loudly and turned his head to Mr. Bing. “Really? I would have never have suspected it!” he said wryly through his teeth, his eyes widening.
The Watchers arrived at their car, and leaned on the roof of the plain black automobile. Mr. Bing sighed and looked at Mr. Cutterback. “Lord Delancre will not be pleased. How should we tell him about the gypsy?” he mused.
Mr. Cutterback looked outward to the dark olive which was the Romanian woods. He leaned back, gave a low grunt and responded, “We’re not going to. We’ve upset him already, no reason to make it worse.”
Mr. Bing linked his hands on the car roof and looked into the distance with Mr. Cutterback. “Lying won’t make it better for us, that will make it worse,” he commented.
Mr. Cutterback sighed and moved himself up, opening the car door. He looked at Mr. Bing and said sternly, “We’ll test the blood sample from Yolanda Lautari, and if it shows up positive of Hyde 232, then we’ll tell him. If not… then there’s no reason, I see, to inform him.”
¹ Open
² Out
³ Close
daye and marcus have a nice lunch
*** Monday, April 23, 2007 12:00 pm ***
*** The Green Tea House, Beverly Hills***
To many observers Marcus’ choice of restaurant would have been a little odd but oriental food reminded him of home, despite that home having forced him elsewhere. Marcus couldn’t explain why, right now, he wanted a taste of home but he did and he thought he’d show Amanda a few of the influences in his life.
The Green Tea House was a small, intimate little affair, with prices to match its location. Nothing in Beverly Hills was cheap, even Chinese food. The restaurant had an arrogant, elegant ambience to it matched by the staff though that changed somewhat when Marcus asked for a table in flawless Mandarin.
Having been settled at a table Marcus looked towards Amanda and smiled. “Shall we get business out of the way first and then move on to more pleasant things?”
Daye nodded, wetting her lips in unconscious anticipation. She had noticed immediately that Marcus' beautiful shadow was nowhere to be seen this afternoon, and she guessed that was a good omen. Finally, she might have the chance to get to know the man without wondering if she was under scrutiny from the competition.
"Yes, by all means, let's get business out of the way."
“Very well,” he replied with a half smile. The waiters arrived and then the order. Once the staff had withdrawn to a discreet distance Marcus started.
“I’m sure you know the reputation of my recent purchase’s previous owners. The building has been a focal point for a large amount of dark energy and such energies have left their mark. Now, Wolfram and Hart removed any metaphysical objects after the fire three years ago but after that they did nothing to prevent anything moving in. There are a number of ‘squatters’, for want of a better term. Now, the corporeal ones have pretty much moved out already. The continued presence of the inspection team saw to that but the non-corporeal creatures are still present.
“So there are two things I would like to contract your services for. The first, a floor by floor removal of any spiritual infestations my property may have. The second - a cleansing of any stagnant energies that might attract future attention.”
Marcus gave Amanda a moment to absorb the information. Then he continued on. “I understand such an endeavour is likely to be a long and arduous process and I have no desire to have to repeat it in the future. Thus I’m looking for an exclusive contract for your services for the duration of the process.”
Daye listened intently, growing excited by the prospect of such a demanding contract. This would give her the opportunity to really stretch her magical muscle and get an idea of just what she was now capable of. She also could see the potential in spending time in close proximity to this man. She found his sophistication and intellect to be intriguing. Daye hadn't met anyone quite like him before. She wondered if there was anyone else quite like him.
"Well, I'm sure I could be persuaded to take on the contract," Daye finally replied, leaning towards Marcus and smiling seductively," if adequate... compensation were offered, that is."
Marcus matched her movement learning forward. “I’m sure I can meet any compensation you might desire,” he said softly. Onyx had warned him about Daye, believing that while the witch was powerful she lacked sufficient control of her gifts.
Marcus didn’t agree, Amanda was just going through an adjustment to her new abilities. The discreet inquiries he’d made about her suggested she was new to the darker side of the magic arts.
Daye laughed softly, enjoying Marcus' attention a great deal. She settled back in her chair and studied him thoughtfully for a few minutes.
"I'm sure we can come to an understanding that will be exactly what we both want," she said finally. "I look forward to working with you, Mr. Dalton."
Daye sighed. "We can discuss the minutiae now, or... we could enjoy the rest of this afternoon and you could get back to me once you have a contract written up. It's entirely your choice."
“I think the minutiae can wait since you’re obviously willing to meet my needs.” Marcus settled backward into his chair happy that things were progressing.
Taking a moment to savour the food he broke the silence a few minutes later. “So, we’ll be working together quite closely and I’m sure you have questions about me.”
Daye deliberately took her time sampling the food and considering his statement carefully. "You are an... unusual man," she said after a few moments. "I find you intriguing, to be sure. You and your family are widely known in certain circles, but there is very little I can tell about you. I get the impression that you enjoy a certain air of mystery and that you value your privacy."
Daye paused, her look becoming contemplative and perhaps a bit sad. "I can appreciate that, believe me. Sometimes, the worst thing you can do is reveal too much about yourself. If you're not careful, pretty soon people have expectations that you might not be willing or able to meet."
Daye was silently pensive once again. Finally, mentally shaking herself, she laughed softly. "In any case, all I want to know, Marcus, is whether can I trust you. In the case of our working together, that is all that matters, as you've already proven yourself more than competent."
“Well the thing about people’s expectations is everything has a price associated with it. When people realize you won’t pay that price alone they can become much less demanding.” Marcus’ voice slipped from its previous light tones to something much more serious. “There are prices I won’t pay and I’ll take whatever steps necessary to avoid such things. Can you trust me? Yes, so long as you don’t cross those boundaries.”
Marcus wondered what had caused those particular comments, what had happened in her past that spawned those hints of bitterness.
“On matters of trust, Amanda I think we both know where we stand.”
Marcus’ words hung in the air between them, and Daye was unsure herself why she'd gone down that road. It seemed that lately she couldn't even trust herself, so why was she asking this virtual stranger if she should trust him? What kind of judge was she at this stage in her life? She felt out of control, adrift, and that feeling made her angry. Only nowadays, when she felt angry, that was the time that Daye was at her most reckless.
Daye set down her chopsticks and faced Marcus squarely. "I promise to respect your boundaries, Marcus. And my word is good... always."
Smiling suddenly, Daye reached out and took hold of the man's hand. "And I believe life is much too short to waste time playing games. I'm sure you've noticed that my interest in you is far from purely professional. I can respect our business relationship, but I won't lie to you. I'm very inclined to pursue something of a more personal nature with you. Frankly, Mr. Dalton, I'd very much like to go to bed with you."
Daye stroked his hand as she spoke, her movements and demeanour blatantly sexual. "So, just to avoid any misunderstandings, are you game?"
*Well that was direct…* Though Marcus knew he couldn’t complain. Amanda’s directness was something he found attractive and his own remarks had more than hinted at his own interest.
“I thought,” Marcus said drawing their linked hands towards his lips, “we weren’t playing games.” Marcus turned Amanda’s hand and placed a kiss in her palm.” Yes I would very much enjoy taking you to bed.”
Daye nodded once, decisively. "Good," she said, apparently satisfied. "As long as we're both aware of where this is headed then..."
Daye pulled her hand from his and lifted her chopsticks once again. "I see no reason why we shouldn't both enjoy the ride."
Daye lifted a morsel of food to her mouth and took a bite, licking the sauce that dripped off her lips.
"So, if it's not an intrusive question," she said between bites, "I am curious as to why you've decided to move to Los Angeles. It seems a far cry from Hong Kong, and I wonder what motivated you to make the move."
Daye's demeanour was relaxed. She made no more outwardly sexually overtures, but appeared to be genuinely willing to finish their meal and engage in casual conversation. She was very interested in Marcus sexually, but she figured since he reciprocated that interest that they had plenty of time to get around to slaking their mutual appetites. So her curiosity and her appetite for the delicious meal they were sharing could take precedence for the moment.
***
Daye unlocked the door to her apartment, leading Marcus inside. She was all but tingling with anticipation. They'd had a leisurely meal, discussing his business, her business, and anything else that came up. Daye felt very relaxed, but very, very aroused at the same time. Marcus was smoothly charming with a dry wit that Daye thoroughly enjoyed.
Once they were inside the apartment, Daye stopped to lock the door before turning her full attention on the man before her. She drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, reaching out to lightly lay her hand on his jacket covered arm and step boldly forward until her body was scant inches from his own.
Daye ran her hand up his arm, over his shoulder and brought it to rest at the back of his neck, tangling her fingers in the hair at his nape. She dipped her head until her mouth was a hairsbreadth from his and whispered, "I've wanted to do this since the first moment you walked through my door, Mr. Dalton."
Daye covered Marcus' mouth with her own, pouring out her lust, and a bit of her longing as well.
Marcus closed the last few inches between them, sliding one hand down her body to rest at the hip. The other found Amanda’s shoulder but didn’t slip any further. With gentle pressure and a twist, he trapped Daye against the wall and a half step let Marcus press the length of his body against her soft curves.
During the change of position Marcus’ lips never broke the connection with Amanda’s passionate mouth. The desire she had displayed so openly in all their meetings burned hotter but beneath it he sensed other hungers, the faint echoes of needs that required more than mere physical release.
Marcus drew back just enough to break the contacts of their mouths before returning to nuzzle briefly at her throat. “There are a great many things I’ve wanted to do to you Amanda.” Marcus’ hands slipped lower and caressed for a moment before grasping and lifting.
Amanda’s superior height made the position untenable for long but it gave Marcus better access to her throat and for this moment Marcus let himself respond to those undercurrents.
Daye revelled at the feel of Marcus’ hot mouth on the tender flesh of her throat. She moaned softy at the continued assault on her senses as the hair on his face rasped gently against the expanse of skin exposed by the plunging neckline of the light summer dress she'd chosen to wear to lunch. The thin material was practically no barrier between the softness of her body and the hard planes of his as he pressed against her, pinning her against the wall.
Daye brought her hand down, stroking his chest and shoulders through the crisp material of his shirt. She kicked off one sandal and wrapped her leg around his calf, rubbing her naked foot across his pant leg as she worked to unbutton his shirt.
"One of us is absolutely overdressed," she panted, pushing both his jacket and his shirt off of his shoulders. She bent her head, bringing her mouth and tongue to bear on the skin she'd managed to uncover.
Marcus let her slide through his hands, the material of the dress gathering momentarily at her hips before he released her altogether. Shrugging both the shirt and jacket off his shoulders Marcus bared his torso in moments without ever quite removing his lips from her skin.
Moving back into her, he kissed along the neckline of her dress before reaching up to slide the cloth from one shoulder then the other. His hands pressed tightly to her body preventing the thin dress from simply slipping away. Instead he revealed Amanda’s skin slowly, allowing him the time to lick, suck and occasional bite every square inch of her flesh.
When the dress had reached her hips Marcus simply let it fall; drawing his head away from her grasp he looked up the length of her body. “I think it’s more you were underdressed.”
Daye laughed throatily, completely unashamed. "Well, I'll admit to being prepared for any eventuality. Besides, you can't imagine how intoxicating it was sitting across from you in that restaurant knowing something you didn't."
Marcus stood rubbing his chest against her body as he did so. “Quite. Almost,” he dropped a hand to tease and caress her thigh “as intoxicating…” His head moved to meet hers, pausing just before touching “…as you.” His whispered words puffed breath over her lips before he claimed them, invading her mouth, pressing against her with as much hunger and passion as he could muster.
Daye arched into him, letting her eyes slide closed and sinking into the feelings he inspired. She was on fire. Daye slid her hands over his bare torso, raking her short clipped nails over his back and shoulders. She opened her mouth to his kisses, slipping her tongue between his lips to taste the dark recesses of his mouth.
Daye's hands slid down his back, coming to rest on the waistband of his pants. She slid her hands around, and pulled her mouth away from his, her lips swollen and wet from his kisses.
"I still say you're overdressed, Mr. Dalton," Daye whispered. She put her hands on his chest and stroked. "And there's a very nice, very empty bed just down the hall. Would you care to...?"
Well I’m sure we could do something about both.” He pulled her away from the wall, spun her and wrapped his arms around her, letting his hands wander intimately over her body. Marcus smiled as she gasped at his touch. He nipped her earlobe then whispered into it, “Lay on…”
Daye sighed blissfully at the feel of his hands, but then wiggled out of his arms and, taking hold of his hand, led Marcus down the sunlit hallway to her bedroom. She glanced hungrily over her shoulder again and again, seducing him with her eyes as much as with the sensual sway of her hips. Finally, once they were inside the lush room, decorated in warm reds and yellows, she turned her attention to Marcus once again, tilting her head and studying him for a moment.
"One obstacle out of the way," Daye said, advancing on Marcus intently, "and one more to go."
With a decidedly wicked grin, Daye stopped just within arm's reach and brought her nimble hands up to the waist of his pants, flicking open the button and grasping the zipper. She smiled coyly at him as she lowered it torturously slowly, her fingers just grazing him. Daye wet her lips as she slid Marcus' pants down, her gaze riveted on his body. Her mouth curled up into a delighted smile and she brought her eyes back up to his once more when he stood naked before her.
"There," she said softly, reaching forward to just trace the lines of his lean body with her fingertips. "That's much better."
Waiting only a moment more, Daye fell into Marcus' waiting arms, letting him take the lead. She gave in completely to the maddening lust inside. In mere moments, she was crying out hoarsely, driving them both higher and hotter in the warm afternoon light.
daye dreams of drew and home
*** Monday, April 23, 2007 9 pm ***
*** Daye’s apartment ***
Daye paced apprehensively beside the bed. Marcus had left earlier, with a promise that he’d be in touch soon to set up a schedule for the cleansing. She had been pleasantly relaxed when he left, but now she was wired once again. Daye felt no shame at what she’d done, but she suspected Marcus Dalton was unlike the nameless, faceless men she’d been slaking her lust with lately. This was a man she would see again, and one she actually liked. He was so different from the other men she had known, fully possessed of a sense of himself and unafraid of who he was. Daye respected that, and even found his mercenary attitude refreshing. Dalton was what he was and he made no effort to pretend otherwise. Daye wished she could be as easy in her own skin.
Daye was tired. She knew she needed to sleep, but she also knew now that if she lay down to sleep, the fragile shield she’d erected to protect herself from Erin and Mariah would fall. Last night she’d gone to bed believing she would find peace, but she’d woken up in the morning knowing that was not to be. While she slept, her “mothers” flooded her subconscious with words and images, trying to control her, to force her to choose their side, to live their way. She knew the respite she’d found was just an illusion. They were determined, these haunts, to have their say, to change her or drive her mad, she really wasn’t sure which. Daye only knew that she still feared laying her head on that pillow and closing her eyes, but with the strain of maintaining both the shielding and the glamour during the day, she had no choice. If she didn’t sleep as best she could, she would be completely unable to function.
With a sigh, Daye finally settled on the bed and let her eyes close. She was exhausted, so despite her misgivings sleep was quick to claim her.
***
She stood one again just outside the brightly lit clearing in a dark and quiet woods. Daye felt disoriented and nervous as she gazed out into the light. She saw before her Drew and Maia seated in the grass, playing. They were rolling a ball between them and talking softly. Daye couldn’t hear their words. She could only see them in profile. Drew was smiling at Maia, and she was smiling at him, but there was still a sadness, a loneliness about the scene. Daye felt that loneliness keenly. She stretched out her hand to try and touch them, but as she’d expected, she was trapped within the shadows.
“Drew… Maia…” Daye’s voice echoed in the quiet stillness, but they couldn’t hear her any more than she could hear them. Daye felt guilty watching them. Only a few hours ago she’d been with another man. She’d been driven by lust, and she’d taken exactly what she wanted from him. Daye didn’t fool herself for a moment into thinking there was more between herself and Marcus than a healthy attraction, but she knew that she’d sought him out for something else. For the first time since she left Drew and Maia, Daye had been looking for more than just sex. She’d been seeking a connection, and now, looking on what she’d left behind, Daye wondered why she couldn’t just go back. The ache inside her would only really be filled when she was part of that circle of light again.
As she stood for what seemed an eternity on the outside looking in, Daye suddenly realized something. It was different here. While she slept, the restlessness abated. She didn’t have the urges to be reckless. It was as if whatever was affecting her while awake held no sway here.
“In the dream, I’m me…” Daye spoke softly to herself.
“And we miss you, Baby,” Drew’s voice broke into her thoughts. Daye’s head whipped up and she stared in wonder at him. He now stood only inches from her, just outside of the shadows. “We miss you so much it hurts.”
“Drew?” Daye wanted to reach out and touch him, but she knew that was impossible. That line that divided the light and the shadows was like a wall between them.
“Hi, Baby,” Drew’s eyes were sad, but hopeful. “How you doing?”
Daye shook her head. “Not so good.”
“Yeah, you don’t look so good,” Drew said. “You look… tired.”
“I am, Drew,” Daye said. “I’m so tired. Erin and Mother Mariah… I hear them all the time… in my head. They argue and they yell, and they… It’s like I’m a prize… or… I don’t know. I’m so tired… and…”
“And what, Baby?” Drew prompted. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides.
“I’m lonely,” Daye said, tears welling in her eyes at the admission. “I miss you so much. I just want… I want to…”
Daye trailed off, thinking she had no right to burden him. She’d done so many things wrong. She didn’t deserve a place by his side. She wanted so much… but it was all wrong.
Drew nodded encouragingly. “What do you want, Baby?”
“I want to come home, Drew…” Daye’s body was shaking softly with the effort of telling him the truth. “I just want to be home.”
“Baby… Baby…” Drew crooned. “Oh… Baby, I want that too… I want you to come home. You should just do that. You should just come home.”
Daye wanted to do it. She wanted to push past the barrier between them, to fall into his arms and let him take her home. Still, she knew that this wasn’t real. It was Erin again, no doubt. Her mother tempted her again and again with these dreams, dreams of the life she’d left behind. While she slept, it almost seemed possible to go back, but when she woke Daye knew she wouldn’t be able to. She didn’t have a choice. She wasn’t calling the shots any more. And yet, she was. It was impossible, but true. She was not herself.
“I want to, but…”
“No, Baby, no buts… Amanda… Baby… Sweetheart… Love… Don’t say no, just come home.”
“Drew, I want to… I want to come home, but I can’t. It’s not time, not yet… maybe not ever. I can’t come home… Not while I’m sick.”
“Sick?” Drew tilted his head, as if he had not considered that possibility before. “You… you’re sick… oh… oh… How could I…”
“I can’t come home until I can be me again and even then…” Daye turned her gaze away, ashamed. “I don’t know if you’ll ever want me home again. The things I’ve done. I can’t…”
“It doesn’t matter, Baby,” Drew said immediately. “We’re forever, remember… No matter what. I already made that choice. I won’t change my mind. Especially not because you’re sick. I’ll be waiting. You just have to find a way to get better.”
Daye nodded slowly. He was right. When you were sick, you just had to find a way to get better. She just had to find a way. Then she could go home.
Daddy… go…” Maia’s childish voice carried to Daye’s ears. She looked down and saw the child standing beside Drew tugging on his hand. Maia looked very sleepy. “Too hard… Daddy… too tired…”
“I have to go, Amanda,” Drew said sadly. “She can’t hold on that long. She’s just a baby.”
Daye’s eyes widened in shock as Drew and Maia suddenly disappeared. “She brought them here. Maia did it?”
“She loves you, Amanda,” Erin’s voice came from behind her. Daye knew if she turned and looked, she’d see her mother close by. “She must have wanted to see you very much.”
Daye nodded, not turning around. They all loved her. She knew that. Now, if she could only find away to be her again, maybe things would get better.
delancre thinks of his past
*** Tuesday, April 24, 2007 1 am ***
*** Delancre’s bedroom ***
The Terang demon lay sprawled out on the bed, soft snores issuing from her. Lord Delancre sat on the edge of the bed, rolling his neck to work out the kinks. He’d arrived back at the mansion over two hours ago, and summoned the concubine as soon as he was alone. The events in Colombia had left him feeling wired and he’d needed an outlet for the aggressive energy coiled within. The Terang was the perfect choice. Her species were violently aggressive while mating, and this one in particular, Mestira, had been trained as a concubine nearly from birth. She was strong and very agile, and best of all she enjoyed being Delancre’s bed mate. That cooperative nature was just what he’d needed. If he’d wanted a fight, or to feast on fear, he’d have called another. But for tonight, Mestira was the perfect choice.
Rising from the bed, Delancre moved over to the balcony and stepped out of the open doors, moving into the moonlight. The estate was quiet, as all but the guards had retired by now. It was at times like this, in the dead of night, that Ambrose found it difficult to believe how close he was to finally realizing his goals. He’d risen from humble beginnings, building the life he’d been entitled to by the sweat of his own brow.
Ambrose knew that it should never have been that way. His family deserved more. Hadn’t his mother taught him so from before he could even walk? Hadn’t she told him time and again about the foolish choices made by her father? Delancre knew who he was. He knew what he had a right to, and if no one else could see the truth as clearly, well then he’d just have to make them see. One day he’d be even more than Genevieve Montet had imagined. She’d wanted her only son to take his place as a noble, but Ambrose had bigger dreams. He would be a god.
“Not a vagrant gypsy,” Delancre muttered, drawing a deep breath of the cool spring air. “I’ll be a god. No one will think me common. I’m not common. I’m not a gypsy tramp. My family has risen above our gypsy blood. We owe nothing to them.”
Delancre could feel his bitterness festering. It was all the fault of that damn woman, making claims to ties because he had some small amount of gypsy in his background. What a ridiculous thing, for her to think he was a gypsy. Sure, they had raised his mother, but she had been an heiress to a French title. She had been nobility, as he was.
Delancre’s grandmother had been a gypsy, true, but his grandfather had been a French Vicomte. He’d been foolish enough to walk away from the estate at Morbihan for the love of Daphne Guitari, a gypsy girl with beauty but no fortune or title. The man had been disowned, and that would have been the end of it had Guy’s brother, the one who inherited in his stead, had not died penniless and too young only a few years after Genevieve had been born. When Guy Montet inherited the worthless title of Vicomte du Morbihan, he hadn’t really cared. He had his lovely Daphne and their daughter. The title meant nothing to him.
Genevieve Montet, though, she’d become obsessed with her father’s title. She believed she’d been robbed of the wealth and power which were rightfully hers by blood. Those beliefs were the core of what she’d passed on to her son, Ambrose. Thus he struggled his whole life, at first to become as important as the other nobles he read about or knew of, but eventually to surpass them. He would be a god. That would show them. That would show them all.
“Soon, very soon,” Delancre murmured, turning back towards his room. “It will be time soon. My time… so very soon.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, 25 April 2007 – 10:51pm – Le Jardin Ensoleillé
Kate glanced around the restaurant uneasily, fiddling with a long loose curl of hair by twisting it nervously around her index finger, unravelling it and then starting again. Marcus had said that he wanted to take her out to dinner – something about them needing their strength for the kind of powers that they would be invoking that night. But still… she’d never expected anything like this!
The couples that surrounded them wouldn’t be out of place on the pages of Hello! Magazine, the waiters all spoke with heavy French accents like they had been flown in from La Rochelle especially and there was even a fountain in the foyer! La Jardin Ensoleillé was one of the most exclusive restaurants in Los Angeles with the most notorious chef. But despite his infamous tantrums the food was exquisite and as a result the restaurant boasted a three-month waiting list just for reservations.
Knowing all that, Kate couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable, not to mention that the dress she was wearing belonged to Onyx – Miss Black. It was a floaty piece of black satin that tightened in at the waist to emphasise the slight curves of her hips and breasts and tied around her neck leaving her shoulders and back completely bare. She couldn’t help but feel it would look much better on Marcus’ assistant and wondered why she had even agreed to wear it.
She cast the waiter a thankful smile as he lay two plates on the table, providing them with an excuse to break the silence at last. “This looks wonderful,” Kate said regarding her dining companion with unease as she picked up her fork. Marcus was such a man of mystery; though they had met pretty much every night for the past two weeks he still seemed like a stranger.
Marcus regarded his companion with care. Kate looked better than the first night he had seen her but only a little. If the dark rings under her eyes and the pinched look to her face had faded then it was not by much. The seemingly unbearable burden of her grief had also faded too, replaced with a degree of hope.
Marcus glanced at Kate’s wedding band and wondered what her husband thought of all this, perhaps he didn’t know. Kate had been quite candid about her life, Marcus hadn’t even needed to question her - various bits of information had just slipped out during their lessons but the exact situation with her marriage hadn’t been mentioned. Looking at her still under-nourished frame he thought that she was concealing it and as a result wasn’t resting or eating as much as she obviously needed to. Marcus could do nothing about one but the other was within his power to address.
He hadn’t realised how disconcerting their surroundings would be to Kate though and perhaps it would have been better to have stayed at the hotel and ordered room service. Seeing the smile she threw the waiter and the rather inane opening remark disabused him of that notion. It wasn’t just the surroundings that were unnerving Kate.
“I certainly hope it is but the proof as they say…”
Kate skewered a piece of avocado from her ‘Salade d'Automne’ onto her fork and held it for a moment, suspended in air before resting it back on the side of her plate.
“This is… nice… coming here,” she said genuinely, looking around again. It seemed like such a long time since she had been anywhere of such marked extravagance and though she knew a potentially arduous night lay ahead of them she felt grateful that Marcus had gone to so much trouble to try to lighten the mood of the evening.
“So… why Los Angeles?” she suddenly asked, looking up into Marcus’ dark, brooding eyes. “I mean, I understood that your family had lived in Hong Kong for decades, don’t tell me the allure of Hollywood was too much for you to resist?”
“Not exactly…” Marcus pondered how much to tell Kate. He’d hidden much of himself from her even if she did know the ‘worst’ of it. “Did you know Los Angeles has the largest, ah… underground anywhere on the West Coast, even taking account of its recent troubles?”
Marcus paused to savour a morsel of food then carried on. “As for Hong Kong?” He shrugged, “The Chinese made it clear they didn’t want an old colonial like myself around, no matter how potentially useful I was. England was out of the question of course as was most of the Old World. So I decided to stay on the Pacific Rim.”
Kate smiled a little as she chewed on a wedge of apple, the sweet yet acidic flavour filling her mouth as she swallowed.
“Still…” she said after a moment, “it can be difficult leaving behind everything that you’ve ever known, even when you have no choice.” Kate looked up at Marcus again, catching his gaze as she pursed her lips together thoughtfully. “Though I imagine, a man of your talents is in high demand in a city like this… I don’t expect you’ve been wanting for company.”
“You’d be surprised. My gifts make even the most open minded of people uneasy. That’s not to say that the sudden arrival of a rather eligible bachelor hasn’t earned me any number of acquaintances and not a small number of …‘invitations’.” Marcus looked past Kate out beyond the window of the restaurant and into the darkness of the city. “They only see the surface though. Most haven’t the wit to see beyond it.”
Kate couldn’t help but feel that Marcus was terribly lonely beneath his façade of confidence and self-assuredness. Though she could understand the wariness of others - in her life she had met barely a handful of adept necromancers and on the whole they were a rather depraved excuse for human beings.
It seemed to her that perhaps Marcus was too young for the corruption of his ‘profession’ to really take hold, though it was a certainty, there was no doubt about that. Still, Kate couldn’t help but feel for a man that appeared to be so unhappy with his lot – and he certainly had ‘a lot’ to offer; though apparently no one but Miss Black to share it with.
Kate turned to follow the direction of Marcus’ empty gaze before turning back to him, tentatively reaching across the table to lay her hand across his. “Marcus?” she asked quietly, “are you okay?”
The touch of Kate’s hand attracted his attention. He glanced down and then carefully withdrew his hand. His eyes returned to Kate’s and a faint smile touched his face.
“I’m fine, a moment’s distraction.” His gaze sharpened again, “And what of you? I doubt the bright lights of Hollywood hold any more attraction for you than they do for me.”
Kate retracted her hand, placing it in her lap a tad self-consciously, it was obvious people were rarely so tactile around Marcus, if the slight flicker of discomfort she had sensed was any indication.
“Oh me? That’s quite a different story… but what brought me here wasn’t what made me stay. In the end, it was for love,” Kate offered a half smile along with a slight shrug, “I guess that would sound foolish to some people…”
“Only to those who don’t understand its power.” Galen was a very lucky man; Kate’s love for him echoed in her every word despite the pain they also held, but he wondered what she would do if Galen turned out to be the price for Emma’s life.
Kate was about to say something when all of a sudden she felt a tingling travel up her spine, making the tiny hairs on her neck stand on end. A distracted frown formed across her brow as she sat completely still, goosebumps rising on her bare flesh. Marcus’ words were drowned from her ears as she listened to a barely perceptible breathing, light and excited and so close she couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder, looking around warily. It just felt like she was being watched.
“Kate? What is it?” His dining companion’s attention had just been efficiently diverted but Marcus could see nothing that would attract such a response.
Kate blinked a few times as though coming to her senses, though she continued to look around circumspectly, her frown growing a little more confused. “No… nothing… I just…” Kate narrowed her eyes in puzzlement, glancing from table to table. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary but she just couldn’t shake that feeling and she shivered involuntarily.
“Bad vibrations I guess,” she said with a dismissive sigh, returning her attention to Marcus while trying to rid herself of the cold feeling that had found its way beneath her skin.
“Perhaps.” Kate was remarkably sensitive and Marcus wondered what it was she had sensed. He knew of no one that would spy on him. But the interruption had broken the mood and they ate the rest of the course in silence sprinkled with the occasional polite remark.
The waiter cleared the table and with a half turn towards her asked, "Dessert?"
At Marcus’ encouraging nod Kate smiled up at the waiter before ordering the ‘Entremets à la Poire’.
“What you were saying before...” Kate said with a degree of hesitancy as they were left alone once more. She leaned in a little resting her chin on her hand. “I know that we only have a… professional association, but I value your listening to me. I don’t have many people I can talk to at the moment and-” Kate shook her head with a self-depreciating sigh, drawing back and looking away awkwardly.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t burden you with my problems like this, you’ve done enough for me already. I mean… look at all this…” Kate cast a quick glance around the restaurant. “Why?” she asked in confusion, “Why do you care?”
*It’s not like anyone else does,* she thought dismally. Her closest friends had turned their backs on her and here she was telling the most intimate details of her life to a virtual stranger. It was like the whole world had stopped making sense.
“The working.” Marcus tried not to smile at Kate’s change in expression. He continued on gently. “A troubled mind has no business raising the force you’ll need to bring Emma back. You asked me to help you and right now that means you need someone who will listen, who will understand and who will care, and I have listened and I do understand your pain if not as deeply as I would like…”
Kate lowered her gaze numbly. She couldn’t help but wish that she were here at this wonderful restaurant surrounded by colour and verve with Galen instead of this other man. She wanted so much right now for him to hold her and tell her things would be okay; why was she here with Marcus and not him? It wasn’t right, it wasn’t right at all. Surely Galen would listen to her, would care, would understand – better than Marcus ever could. Why did she feel such comfort at his kind words, why did they make so much sense coming from a stranger?
The world really had stopped making sense, at least for Kate at any rate. She was getting to the point where she was exhausted just trying to make sense of everything. Sometimes it was easier to just go with the flow and not even think about anything else.
“It’s so close…” she muttered worriedly, her words half muffled by her fingers as she ran them across her mouth nervously. “Sometimes I think I’ll never be ready.” *And the price… what about the price to pay? How can I pretend it doesn’t matter when Galen might die? I couldn’t live with myself… oh Gaia, what am I doing?*
“Kate,” Marcus reached out and grasped her hand the simple touch stilling her momentarily. “It’s going to be fine. You will be ready. A few more days, a little more practice and you’ll be ready. And then you’ll have her back - you’ll be able to hold her in your arms and tell her you love her. Trust me.”
All the doubts in Kate’s mind were erased once again as she let that comforting image Marcus had so timely conjured settle in their place. She felt warm at the thought of her daughter, of holding her again, of feeling her tired weight resting against her body as she slept after a good feed.
A contented sigh escaped her lips as a longing, needful light settled into her dark blue eyes. “I trust you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed her eyes momentarily, lost in that dream.
With Kate over the worst of the panic Marcus disengaged his hand and watched her carefully. Kate’s obsession with her daughter made it easy to distract her from her fears but he wondered how deep it went, how far-reaching it was. Necromancy wasn’t a science, and even with the best of preparation perfect results weren’t guaranteed. Marcus feared for Kate if the ritual went awry.
The waiter chose that moment to return with dessert, pulling Kate out of her pleasant thoughts. Marcus tapped his confection of spun sugar, chocolate and ice cream and spoke quietly. “A few more days. You have the individual steps down now. Tonight we’ll go through a full run-through. A ‘dress rehearsal’ if you like.”
Kate nodded congenially, looking down at her plate, what had she ordered again? Some kind of fruit, citrus, orange and pink grapefruit in a sweet, red berry coulis with carambola. She vaguely remembered ordering something similar in a restaurant back in England; she had been married to Logan then - before he changed, before he became so… different.
*A few more days… I can handle that, a few more days and it will all be over… one way or another.* She looked up, suddenly noticing Marcus’ intense gaze fixed on her. *He asked you a question didn’t he? Wasn’t that a question?* Kate couldn’t remember any more but she felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment all the same.
“That’ll be fine,” she agreed suddenly, with renewed confidence. “I think I can handle that.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, April 25th, 10:51 PM
The Big House
The midnight breeze swept passed the young teen, gently blowing his golden locks out of his face. Looking around at the lovely garden, he couldn’t help but relish in the beauty of it all; the flowers, the stars, the moon, everything was just so calm.
*The calm before the storm,* he told himself, as he took a seat on the concrete border of the fountain located in the middle of the garden. And what a storm it would be. But once the chaos ended, and all was said and done, Cole was confident he would have what he needed to go through with his plan.
*Don’t get too ahead of yourself,* he thought, as he dabbed his fingers in the cold water. *Before any of this can come to pass, you have to make sure the board is set up just right.* It was a dangerous game Cole was playing, filled with many potentially deadly players, and if the proper precautions weren’t taken, he could very well end up six feet under.
Staring into the rippling water of the fountain, Cole took a moment to push the thoughts from his mind; he needed his full concentration on the spell at hand.
Closing his eyes, he began to picture Darian, focusing his thoughts on the image, and then letting the thought bleed into the water.
“Sparkle, Shimmer, Mind grow dimmer,
A hazy mist began to swirl in the gentle flow of the water, slowly creeping its way outwards, until finally covering the entire little pool.The Second Sight’s
Now brought to light.”
Cole smiled as he opened his eyes and stared down into the now grayish liquid. He hand ventured into his jean pockets and withdrew a tiny leaf. Outstretching his hand, he let it tumble into the water.
“Leaf afloat Leaf so green,
A second later, the grey vanished from the water, instead the image of Darian’s apartment reflecting up at the boy.Help me see
What is unseen.”
Cole’s face went solemn as he stared down at the picture of the fae sitting on his couch. He looked so worn out, not at all how Cole remembered him.
*Did I do that to him?* he thought depressively. He never really meant to hurt Darian in all this. Sure they had a falling out, but that didn’t mean Cole wished any malice on him. In fact, Darian was really the kink in his big strategy. Could he bring himself to do it to Darian? *Yes!* he convinced himself, thinking of the final prize. It was really a matter of the ends justifying the means, and if there were a few casualties along the way, so be it.
Next, Cole began to picture his dark mistress. Slowly the water churned, preparing to reflect the image of the witch, but Cole quickly dismissed the idea.
*She’s probably not up to anything important anyways; more likely than not she’s screwing some poor soul,* he thought disgustedly. As time went on, the acolyte was growing rather bored with his so-called master. For all her talents, she seemed more concerned with satisfying her carnal cravings rather than taking her magic seriously, and that bothered Cole. She was unworthy of the gifts she possessed; a problem Cole vowed to rectify – *All in good time,* he smiled.
That left one more, the real key to the whole equation. “Show me Kate,” he said aloud, as he cast the portrait of the read headed wiccan from his mind into the waters.
His smiled faded as the fountain’s waters illuminated a rather surprising scene. It showed Kate all right, but she wasn’t alone; rather, she was in the presence of another man.
“How unexpected,” he said aloud, as he gazed on with growing interest. The fancy setting, the man’s youthful, yet powerful demeanor; it all added up. Daye had often spoken of a new man in town, a powerful necromancer, and the person in the water fit his description to the tee.
*She’s going to bring back her daughter.*
The boy’s mind raced, calculating the various new elements this brought to his plan. The smirk returned. *She’ll be preoccupied with the prodigal baby, making it easier for me to go along with my strategy.*
But the necromancer, he was something unaccounted for.
*I can’t have mages of his power running around loose in LA, it’s too much of an X-factor.* Cole’s eyes squinted as he began working out ways to deal with the new character.
A minute passed, as he continued to study the two’s dealings, his eyes searching desperately for any hint of a course of action. Finally it hit him like a runaway freight train.
“The ritual!” he exclaimed. In his lessons with Daye, he had learned that dark magic of that caliber doesn’t come without a price. However, if a witch was knowledgeable in the dark arts, it was possible to ‘defer’ said price.
*Perfect! I’ll take care of the witch and the necromancer in one fell swoop!* he thought triumphantly. In his moment of excitement, he lost his complete concentration on the magic – not the best idea when scrying on two powerful mages.
Within the water, the image of Kate suddenly looked straight up, as if seeing back through the other end of the spell.
*SHIT!*
A moment later he broke the connection, praying that Kate had not completely noticed the psychic imprint of his intruding presence.
*Wouldn’t want that,* he chuckled, as he grabbed his bag and headed for the streets.
[/][/]Cole Offers a Helping Hand
Thursday, 26 April 2007 – 5:13am - Outside Kate and Galen’s House
Kate glanced at the sky as she made her way silently into the backyard and round to the large oak tree which was her means of escape and entry back into the house. It was getting early, she realised at the fading of the night. Birds were already beginning to twitter noisily in the surrounding trees, heralding the breaking of the dawn. After her training with Marcus had come to an end she’d gone to Emma’s grave and just sat by her headstone, thinking. She hadn’t even noticed the passing of time until the air had grown cooler, but with that faint promise of encroaching warmth that signalled the beginning of a new day.
When she had realised the time she’d had to hurry to get back home; her sleeping spell was effective but it only lasted a few hours until it gradually wore off. Of course Jack and Galen would still sleep, but without the spell they could easily awake and discover her absence.
Removing her shoes, Kate pulled herself up onto the lowest bough of the tree, reaching up to the next, wedging her bare foot into the fork and levering herself upwards amongst the branches. Climbing the tree was not as much of a trial as it had first started out as - sometimes Kate would even swear she felt the tree move, its branches guiding her on her journey, bending to meet her outstretched hands and rising to touch her bare feet.
“Need a hand, Kate?”
Kate, gasped, and would have fallen from the tree in surprise had not a hand reached out and steadied her.
“You do realise most people use the front door when trying to get into their homes?” Cole smiled slyly, as he gazed down on Kate from a higher branch. “But then again, I doubt you want your family knowing about your little midnight rendezvous. Consulting with people like Marcus Dalton, what would the neighbours say?”
Kate felt a little put out by Cole’s manner, and he knew about her meeting with Marcus? Had he been following her? Kate was suddenly reminded of the feeling she’d had earlier that evening while at dinner, the feeling of being spied on, of being watched. Kate narrowed her eyes at Cole, remembering Darian’s words at the last White Hat meeting. Cole had been a bad boy lately, casting spells on friends and then there was the incident with that man, what was his name again? Oz?
“What’s wrong Cole?” she asked angrily, refusing his hand as she dropped back down to the ground and stared up at where he sat. “Run out of middle-aged men to beat up? Thought you’d try your hand at stalking? I thought I sensed someone… you need to brush up on your technique.”
The boy also jumped from his branch, but like a feather he floated down gently on the wings of invisible magic. “Now Kate, are you going to believe that nasty rumour going around about me?”
“Exactly how many mage teens are there in the area?” she retorted coldly.
“Touché,” he admitted, “but we don’t have to concern ourselves with trivial events like that.” The boy began to circle Kate, as if sizing her up. “I came to see how you are handling yourself.”
His tone reeked of insincerity, but Cole never expected Kate to fall for his pleasantries; she was a telepath, and thus knew he was here on other motives - still, he thought it best to keep up the charade.
“I’m guessing your meeting with the necromancer means you decided to take my advice to heart,” he said, drawing ever closer to her. Slowly, the boy moved his hand to gently stroke her alabaster skin. “Like I said, for people like us, death is not…”
Kate’s hand shot out violently, gripping tightly around the boy’s skinny wrist, and pulling it from her face.
“I know what you said,” she spat viciously, holding Cole’s arm firmly. Suddenly her eyes were drawn to the palm where a long scar stretched from end to end, just like the one she had seen on Daye’s palm all those weeks ago. Kate’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at the boy as Cole wrenched his hand free from her grasp.
“Well, well…” she said smoothly, folding her arms beneath her breasts with an air of satisfaction as a slight smile curled her lips, “Looks like I’m not the only one harbouring a secret.” Her smile widened as she flicked her hair back over her shoulder, “So, you’re Daye’s little acolyte hmmm? I’m surprised she lets you stay out so late, especially on a school night.”
Cole’s eyes grew wide, taken off guard by her clever observation. *No one is supposed to know, not yet anyway,* he cursed himself, as he self-consciously put his hand in the pocket of his faded jeans.
“She doesn’t control me,” he said bluntly, deciding not to even bother trying to avoid the truth. “I decided to take my studies further if you must know, not that my acquaintances are any of your concern.”
Kate made a face of disapproval, tutting in a mocking parody of a concerned parent. “I don’t think your mistress will be happy to find out you’re disobeying her.” Kate wanted to laugh in all honesty, the thought that Daye, with all her delusions of being the big wicca hotshot around town, couldn’t even curb the behaviour of a teenage boy was more than amusing.
“So what have you been getting up to hmm? Obviously scrying…” she said with an irritable scowl. “Pulling a few glamours maybe? Conjuring sprits?” Kate observed Cole guardedly and then suddenly appeared to relax, reassuming that air of satisfaction. “Darian was right, Cole, you are different inside… I can feel it, darkness, evil… if you hold on to it, it will taint your soul, then it will never wash off.”
“Please,” he scoffed, brushing away her comment like it was nothing. “Darian, what does he know? The poor guy is all heart and no brain I’m afraid. And as for you, who are you to call me dark and evil? I’m not the one trafficking with death mages.”
Cole bit back his tongue before uttering another word; he had come here for a reason, and he would not let her bait him into losing his temper. “But I’m not here to judge what you’re doing; far from it in fact. I’ve come to offer you my help.”
“The term is necromancy,” corrected Kate with an amused smile, “though you probably haven’t gotten that far in your tutelage yet.” It was strange but, with her heightened sixth sense she could feel the bane burning inside Cole, the same way she had felt it in Daye and Nikolai…
Kate frowned to herself, thinking about that, regarding Cole with close scrutiny. If only she could get close enough to reach into his mind like she had with Nikolai, then maybe she would be able to find out what it was for sure – but this was neither the time or the place for such matters. It was just one part of a larger puzzle that needed piecing together and right now Kate had to focus her energies on more important matters.
“So, young Cole, what help could you possibly offer me?”
If they had been characters in a cartoon, Cole’s ears would have been firetruck red and expelling massive amounts of boiling steam. *Arrogant bitch. Who the hell does she think she is talking to me that way?*
Clenching his fists to restrain his growing impatience Cole took a second to steady himself. *This must be handled carefully Cole,* he told himself. *Remember, if all goes well, this will take care of the witch and necromancer in one fell swoop.*
“Although you may think I’m some talentless amateur, I’m not,”he said coldly, as he studied the woman’s reaction. “In fact, I’m so far from amateur, that I think I can offer you something rather invaluable.”
Kate fought to school her expression at the flare of anger and violence that she’d felt radiate from the boy. He was unstable just like the rest of them, consumed with an insatiable lust for reputation and power. Still, if he thought he had something to offer she would be foolish to turn him away without so much as hearing him out.
“I never said you were a ‘talentless amateur’, Cole,” she said softly, tilting her head to one side in interest. “I can understand your frustrations, I was your age once you know? I remember how it felt to be bound by the constraints of others, having to wait so patiently for the smallest portion of knowledge to be spoon-fed to you…” she smirked, “like a child.”
Cole was about to say something at that but Kate cut him off abruptly, “But… if you think that you have something of some value to offer me, then I’m willing to listen.”
“I’m glad you are not taking a close minded view on this,” he started, a broad smile covering his face. “You see, I know enough about the resurrection ritual to know what it entails. Pretty heavy stuff if I do say, way beyond my skills.”
Kate was going to agree that it was beyond his skills, and thus he couldn’t help, but Cole quickly silenced her.
“Dalton, has he explained the price you pay for conjuring the denizens needed for this to work?” The look of uncertainty that crossed Kate’s face was all the answer he needed. “So you understand the risk? Someone else could die Kate, and that new death would be your fault,” he said with false sympathy. “That is why I’m here. I can make it so you will bear none of those negative consequences. I can make it so the resurrection has zero repercussions.”
Kate observed Cole warily. Of course she was aware of what could happen, the price that might have to be paid, but Marcus was assisting her on that score and together they were looking at ways to avoid the cost Cole had mentioned.
“Well… you have my attention,” she said calmly, disguising her interest so as not to give Cole too much reason to crow at his success. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting that you let me come with you to the ritual. While you perform the resurrection, I will be at your side performing a ritual of my own. If done in sequence, I can siphon away the anger of the dark deities, leaving your hands as bloodless in this whole ordeal as a new born baby’s.”
“That simple, huh?” Kate asked with a gleam in her eye. She was tired of this boy and his arrogant assumptions, just who did he think he was anyway? Strutting around Los Angeles, beating up poor homeless guys and using his magic to allow him to take what he wanted? It was hard enough being a witch in this world without upstarts like him giving them even more bad publicity.
“Just what is your agenda here?” she demanded severely, her features fixed and unyielding. “Because if you think raising the dead is just some cabbalistic high-jinx that you want part of to allay your teenage boredom then forget it. This is important, this is the life of my child at stake and I won’t have you messing things up.”
“If I was bored, I’d just play X-Box or something,” Cole chuckled, trying to break the tension that was rising in Kate; he needed her to trust him. “I’m doing this for a number of reasons. First, I’m doing this as a learning experience. Just to be able to watch such a great feat of magic from such a great witch is an honour,” he said, trying first to flatter her ego.
“Also, I’m doing this to test my abilities. If it works, well then I’m happy, and like I said, you’ll get no backlash. If I fail, well then you are no worse off from where you are now. Finally,” he finished, his face growing sombre, “I know what it’s like to lose the people you love, Kate. Everyone I love ends up dying, and there is nothing I could do. But if I could help you bring back someone you love, well maybe it will be a little cathartic for me.”
Kate felt a little taken aback at Cole’s last statement and she faltered, feeling her earlier anger wane slightly. The old Kate would have apologised, would have felt bad at judging the teen too harshly. But the old Kate was gone to a lesser degree, she had drowned in a thousand tears, fallen under the burden of her grief. All Kate cared about now was bringing back Emma and if Cole could help make sure that she avoided any consequences then all the better.
And if Marcus didn’t like the new arrangement, well that would be his problem. He’d been paid for his services, how she decided to handle the actual ritual was her own concern.
“What about Daye?” Kate asked suddenly, “I can’t imagine she’d be too pleased that I was leading her little apprentice astray.” Inwardly Kate revelled at the notion, she’d already decided to let Cole into her circle but undermining Daye would just be a nice slice of retribution to add to the mix.
Cole’s eyes flashed with a discreet wickedness that Kate wasn’t even sure she noticed. “As much as she wouldn’t admit it, we both know that Daye’s powers and abilities are rather limited, and if I’m to expand my knowledge, I have to look to more experienced witches,” he added, with a sly smile. “And anyway, what little ol’ Amanda doesn’t know, won’t hurt her,” he said, winking at Kate.
“Your loyalty is overwhelming,” mocked Kate lightly. That bothered her some, because if Cole could double-cross his bitch of a mistress then he could certainly do the same to her and she couldn’t risk something going wrong. If there was the slightest deviation, if the balance was out by the narrowest margin then it might not work – or worse Emma might come back as little more than an animated corpse.
But then, if she could deflect the ‘price’ – if Cole could ensure that her hands were kept clean – it would be a risk worth taking to ensure that no body else’s life was forfeit to the gods.
Kate took a breath as though to speak and then paused in contemplation. “We might need to practice…” she said finally, regarding Cole closely. “I need to make sure that you’re up to speed with what is going to happen, and we don’t have much time. The ritual will take place in five days, do you think you can be ready?”
“Don’t worry about my end, I was born ready. So I just need to know the where and when?”
"May 1st, just before midnight at Sunnyview Cemetery," said Kate without hesitation; the date and time were burned into her memory.
Cole’s smile grew into an ear to ear grin. “Then, my dear Kate, I will see you there.” With that, Cole walked off, leaving Kate alone in the tranquil night.
Kate watched Cole’s retreating form and shivered as that feeling of obtuse evil slowly withdrew into the darkness. She couldn’t help but think that maybe she’d made a mistake. Cole was inexperienced despite his bravado, but it was too late now. The die was cast and in five days time there would be no time left to worry.
Baby Come Back
Tuesday, 1st May 2007 - Just before Midnight - Sunnyview Cemetery
Kate leaned with her side against Emma’s gravestone; she gently let her fingers trace across her name and over the italicised quotation, “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.”
“But not for much longer,” Kate whispered gently, her voice full of promise as she drew her hand over the smooth marble surface. All her waiting, all her nights of training with Marcus had led up to this moment. It had once seemed so far away and yet here she was, waiting for her two consorts to arrive so that she could begin, so that she could reach across the Great Divide and bring back her darling little Emma.
Kate had already begun setting things up and six thick, black candles circled the site of Emma’s grave, waiting to be lit, while the lines of a pentagram had been painted in white across the grass. It wasn’t much as far as ritual sites went by, but it would be enough to assist Kate in gathering and containing the powers needed for such a rite.
She smoothed out her loose black robes and gathered her clean, fresh smelling hair together as she pulled it across her shoulder. She had made many preparations that night, cleansing her body thoroughly in a bath of sea salt and fragrant oils, it was essential that she didn’t bring any negative energies into the circle with her and no detail had been overlooked in her arrangements.
At the sound of dry, summer grass being crushed underfoot, Kate looked up, her eyes glittering in the dark. “I was wondering when you were going to show up, you’re late.”
“Well, what did you expect? I’m a teenager, we’re biologically incapable of being on time.”
When looking at Cole, one would not think he suited the picture that the night was about to paint; faded denim jeans and a navy blue Gap hoodie did not invoke a very occult feel. “I see you’ve already set up everything, very cool of you,” the boy said, as he began unpacking his supplies. Two blood red candles, a gem incrusted athame, and a small mortar bowl.
“Not much stuff needed for my little ritual as you can see. All we need now is the necro and you’ll be back on your way to family-ville.”
“I meant what I said Cole,” Kate intoned firmly, as the young boy began to set his end of things up. She really wished she hadn’t agreed to this now, it was obvious he wasn’t about to take any of this as seriously as she had hoped. “You fuck this up,” she spat with venom, “and I’ll rain a whole new kind of hell down on you.”
Cole remained neutral for a moment, considering the threat, however he quickly brushed it a side with a large smirk. “Come on Kate, I lived with Darian and if the boyscout taught me anything, it is responsibility,” he laughed, holding up his fingers in a mock ‘Scout salute’.
Marcus’ whisper-quiet Rolls Royce pulled up to the sidewalk just outside the cemetery. These sorts of events required a certain frame of mind and walking between the silent tombstones helped Marcus focus. He wasn’t directly involved in the proceedings; that would place him far too close to costs he wouldn’t pay, but Kate had asked him to be present and he agreed, if having her tutor there would ease her mind.
He was somewhat surprised then when approaching her daughter’s grave to see a teenager there as well. She hadn’t mentioned any assistants and it worried him that this interloper’s body language displayed little respect for the gravity of the surrounds or the situation.
With Onyx in her customary position - one step behind and to his left - Marcus made his presence known. “Hello Kate.”
“Marcus…” Kate said softly, her long, black robes unfurling around her ankles as she stood up. She caught the direction of his gaze and looked away for a moment. Now she really did regret letting Cole in on this, it was clear from the look in Marcus’ eyes that he disapproved of the boy and in turn her, for not mentioning such a change in her plans to him beforehand.
“This is Cole Matthews,” she said quietly, her voice a mere breath carried through the night. “He’s here to assist… Cole, this is Marcus Dalton.”
Putting on an air of great over enthusiasm, Cole rushed forwards, sticking out his hand. “Wow, what a real honour it is to meet you Mr. Dalton. I mean like wow, working with two great practitioners like yourselves it’s just, well it’s just a dream come true.”
Marcus looked down at Cole’s hand then back to the teenager’s face. This overblown puppy was going to assist? Not bothering to keep the disdain from his expression, Marcus brushed past the boy with a simple, “Hello Mr Matthews.” The delivery was flatter than Hugo Weaving’s in ‘The Matrix’.
An almost non-existent sneer crossed Cole’s face as he internally fumed at Marcus’s arrogance. *It would be so easy to just curse him now,* he thought contentedly, picturing various different hexes that would put Dalton in his place. But alas, if he moved outright now, Kate would no doubt intervene and Cole was no match for the witch’s power, not yet.
However, after tonight, with Emma’s return, Kate would become preoccupied and the necromancer, well he would be suffering Kate’s misguided penance thanks to Cole’s intervening spell. *I wonder what nasty things the Gods will cast down on him?*
Continuing to ignore the boy, Marcus walked over to Emma’s grave. It was the first time he had been here and a faint bittersweet smile appeared on his face as he read the inscription. He moved his gaze to the candles and the pentagram, the simple arrangement with no evidence of re-marking spoke of skill and confidence, and as he felt the energies within the circle he looked to Kate and nodded.
Crossing to the witch Marcus reached out and took her hand. “The circle looks fine, this is going to work Kate. Now I’ll give you some space and let you and…” he glanced at the youth but managed to control his sneer, “Cole finish your preparations.”
Kate nodded and smiled lightly, grateful for Marcus’s confidence in her abilities, though it was obvious he had little respect for Cole and tried very little to hide that fact. Kate motioned for Cole to arrange himself and the items he had brought as she settled herself back down on the grass in the centre of the pentagram. She closed her eyes, feeling a flutter of nerves in her stomach. This was it! She was going to bring back Emma; she was actually going to do it!
Fighting down those nervous knots in her stomach, Kate allowed that peaceful serenity to fall, to envelop her entirely. She sat quietly in front of the headstone as the six candles suddenly spluttered to life in sequence, casting dark, eerie shadows across the pale white marble.
Off to the side of the pentagram, Cole bent down on both knees as he lit his own two red candles and took one final look at the pesky man; he would enjoy this far more than he had imagined.
Kate continued to block out every other sound, every other feeling apart from that of her slow, rhythmic breathing. She allowed the beat of her own heart to take her down into that trance-like state, heavy but somehow soothing… like listening to a sonogram. Already she could feel her spirit separate, different from any other kind of astral projection she had ever performed. It was more like a part of her was shifting, becoming lighter and more mobile but was still attached to her mortal body.
From this state of being, Kate cast herself amongst the souls of the graveyard, searching for that of her daughter. From inside the sleeve of her robe she withdrew a long athame, her actions leaden and unhurried as though she was moving in slow motion. Kate brought the blade down to her hand and cut into her flesh, spilling her blood onto the earth.
“Blood to blood…” Kate mumbled quietly, “I summon thee, blood to blood return to me…”
Marcus could feel the energies building around them, swirling in a tightening spiral but his gaze was drawn to Kate's assistant. Why was he here? Kate hadn't changed the form of the ceremony they had worked out. He had initially thought that the energies that Cole was building were for her use but they remained separate. Marcus shook his head and returned his attention to Kate. Cole was probably a failsafe measure in case she failed to gather the requisite energy.
Closing his eyes, Cole began to concentrate. Unlike Kate however, his heartbeat began to grow faster as the dark energy coursed through his veins. It was invigorating channelling the power, more so than any drug he had taken.
“Fates and Norns I beckon you,
To this place a blind eye turn,
Let not she who casts the spell
Receive the wrath that she dost earn.”
Risking a momentary glance at Marcus, Cole was happy to see that he had yet to pick up on what he was really doing. *Heh, for someone as powerful as he’s supposed to be, he is pretty naïve.* Returning his thoughts to the spell, the mage slowly picked up the ornate athame and painfully pricked his index finger, allowing the blood to fall into the mortar.
“Another soul shall take her place, Let the Dark Ones see his face…” he continued the spell, whispering under his breath so Marcus would not hear the spell he was conjuring.
Kate felt a trembling wrack through her entire body as she was filled with a living essence, one that was as gentle as a summer’s breeze, that smelled as wholesome as freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and was as sweet as sticky, cotton candy kisses.
Emma.
Kate wanted to cry aloud at the sensation. Her little girl seemed to dance around in every molecule of her body, flitting, fleeting… it was… beautiful. With a sudden, sharp movement, Kate plunged the athame into the ground, burying it to the hilt in the dark, dry earth.
As the soul left her body a faint sigh escaped Kate’s lips. She then began working hard, drawing in as much power, as much energy as she could. Dragging it down into the grave itself, repairing those threads as Marcus had shown her, cleaning away the stain of death, making them whole and pure again. The rot had not gone as deeply as with the child she had practised on, the threads not so nearly as badly damaged; they were almost fresh in comparison.
Kate continued to draw more power into her circle, perspiration glistening on her skin as she worked. “She who slumbers in the deep, must now awaken from her sleep…” she recited deftly, as she felt Emma’s essence grow stronger and more robust.
Suddenly Kate opened her eyes wide, eyes that were dark and lifeless as they hailed the skies.
“Mistress of the underworld,
I beckon thee to heed my plea,
Master of the gift, rebirth,
Listen as I summon thee!
Hear these words, hear my cry,
Spirit from the other side,
Come to me, I call on thee,
Cross now the Great Divide!”
Marcus felt the connection snap into place and he suddenly understood just what Cole was doing. “Oh you damn fools!” It was too late for him to block Cole’s spell but he would not be used this way.
Marcus’s eyes turned pitch black as he invoked his power. It rolled from him in a searingly cold wave to engulf Kate’s circle. This was death magic - his bailiwick. If Kate wouldn’t pay the price for Emma’s life then neither would he.
“Hades, Lord of darkness heed my cry
Bind this child to the cold earth.
Let her not hear her mother’s call
She has passed on beyond rebirth.
Hades, Lord of the Grave heed my words
Bind this child beyond returning
Let her not see the portal open.
She has gone beyond.
Hades, Lord of Death grant my request
Bind this child outside the world
In peaceful silence let her rest
She has suffered enough.”
Marcus finished his incantation and three great crashes of thunder shattered the night. Kate’s circle of candles were snuffed out and suddenly the only power in the graveyards was Marcus’.
As Kate felt all her energies dissipating she cried out, turning around to face the man who had yanked her daughter back across the ethers, locked her soul beyond her reach and condemned her body to rot beneath her feet once more. Kate was without words to express her fresh sorrow; the pain, the unexplainable horror that had almost begun to settle over the past two months was searing and raw in her heart. She wept new tears of anger and frustration.
She had been so close! She had felt her! Felt her Emma and then she’d been dragged out of her range. “NO!” she screamed in absolute rage, fire burning in her blood as she all but clawed at the earth, “NO! NO! NO!”
Cole looked on with shock as the ritual was brought to an abrupt halt. Marcus had realised; it was the only explanation. Rising quickly to his feet, the boy began tracing sigils into the air. *I gotta end this before he rats me out.*
With a final gesture, a large ball of flame erupted from the floating rune, and raced towards its target.
Onyx stepped between Marcus and the teenaged sorcerer in a blur; her left hand traced a simple circle in the air and snuffed out the fireball as if it had never been. A jian appeared in her right hand and Onyx crossed the space between her master and his attacker.
“Onyx!” Marcus’s call halted the blade just as it marked Cole’s skin. “I think Kate should deal with Mr. Matthews.”
“A demoness?” the boy spat, as he began to back away. He had lost; the game was over, and if he didn’t leave now Kate would no doubt finish him without a second thought. “I wont forget that,” he said turning an icy glare on Onyx before casting an invisibility spell, and running away as fast as his little legs could carry him.
Kate barely acknowledged the exchange between the two, nor the swift exit of her ‘assistant’. It was taking all her concentration to stop herself from destroying the nearest thing in sight right now as live magics flowed freely through her body, refusing to settle. The feeling was electric, like having electrodes stuck under your fingernails.
Kate could hardly breathe as she fought to regain her control; her body was trembling violently from the powers she had been channelling, not to mention the passion of feelings that rushed through her body, coursing through her very bones.
“Y-YOU!” she gasped, her breath ragged and hoarse as she staggered to her feet and out of the circle. Kate fixed Marcus with a baleful glare; her eyes still set into that unnerving black hollowness, the stuff of nightmares. She raised a pale finger to point at the man, “YOU… You did this! You took her from me!”
Marcus’ arm chopped downward, “Oh no Catherine! You did this all by yourself. Magic - take what you want and pay for it but you couldn’t do that could you? Not Catherine Eldridge! You were too good for that. You had that slimy little scamp divert the cost. To me!”
Marcus’ voice dropped to a rage-filled growl. “I told you when we started this I would not pay the price of Emma’s return. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Did you?”
Kate winced as Marcus grabbed the arm she had pointed at him and twisted it painfully as he held her down. The darkness in her eyes faded slowly back to their regular blue as tears rushed to the surface.
“Cole…” she whispered as she suddenly realised what had transpired there. Cole had tried to divert the ‘cost’ to Marcus, he’d noticed what was happening and put stop to the entire thing. She slowly shook her head, “He said he could siphon it away… the cost… he said he could make it so no one had to die. I didn’t know he meant to use it on you!”
Kate sobbed again as she ripped her hand free from Marcus’ painful grip. “I just didn’t want anyone else to die… I didn’t want any more blood on my hands…”
Marcus nodded to Onyx who slipped silently away for the car. He’d need to be careful, Kate was still pulsating with power and right now she might still be inclined to kill him where he stood. As close as they were, there was little his protector could have done in that event anyway.
“Catherine,” he said softly, “it might not have been a death but… maybe this was for the best. If you couldn’t face more blood would it really have been the same? Even if Cole had succeeded, wouldn’t knowing what it cost have poisoned your love for her?”
Marcus caught Kate in his arms as her legs collapsed from beneath her, her pitiable sobs continuing. Lowering her to the ground he continued to hold her tightly. “It’s time to let her go Kate...”
“I- I- felt her…” Kate stammered, still struggling for every breath, even worse now through her broken sobs. “I f-felt her inside me…” she moaned painfully, more tears rolling down her cheeks, “I-I could smell her scent… she was close… so- so close.”
“Shhhh-shhhhh,” Marcus soothed softly, rocking Kate gently he continued on mumbling nonsense until he heard the car pull up nearby.
“It’s time to go, Kate. Let me take you home.”
The Long Journey Home Pt 1
Wednesday, 2nd May 2007 – 3:34am – Driving through the streets of Los Angeles
Kate sat hunched up in the back of Marcus’ car as they drove through the empty streets of Los Angeles in a virtual silence. They had barely spoken as he had carried her inside and the car had moved off into the night. But Kate was past caring about anything right now. Her heart physically caused her pain and she held herself, trying desperately not to break down again even though tears rolled silently down her cheeks.
Marcus took in Kate’s quiet tears and felt rather guilty, after all it was his spell that had ripped away her hope which had plunged her into the depths of despair. Unfortunately the guilt also spawned anger because though it had been he who had ripped away that hope, it was Cole’s action that had forced his hand and Cole had acted at Kate’s behest.
*So there’s no reason to feel guilty. No reason at all!* he told himself rather angrily, but confronted with those occasional sobs he did. With an inward sigh Marcus slid along the seat to put his arm around Kate, pulling her toward him his other hand came up to stroke her hair while soft meaningless sounds of comfort drifted, whispered from his lips.
Comforting Kate the same way he would a deeply hurt child Marcus’ eyes caught Onyx’s in the mirror. They were the only thing that betrayed his anger.
Kate held on to Marcus as the only thing that was steadying her right now. Yet through the façade of his actions and quiet soothing she could sense his underlying anger and bitter resentment that she had put him in an impossible position. She knew that too and accepted the guilt for her failure to be entirely her own. What had Marcus done except from protect himself from Cole’s spell which, if it had worked, would have no doubt rained on him a fate worse than death?
That didn’t change the way she felt though, exhausted from the weeks she had spent training, practising. Physically and mentally drained from the ordeal, she had pinned her every hope upon that one night and now it had been wasted, ruined because she had been so stupid as to let that upstart of a mage in on everything. Now she had to go back to life ‘as normal’ like nothing had happened, put on that brave face once more and make like she wasn’t quietly dying inside.
“I know…” she said quietly in answer to Marcus’ unspoken thoughts, “it wasn’t your fault, I should never have blamed you.”
Thankful that Kate had at least for the moment stopped crying, Marcus put some space between the two of them again. “No, perhaps not, but I am surprised Kate. You let that stripling persuade you into attaching an unknown spell to your own. You know better than that…”
It wasn’t the wisest thing to say right then Marcus knew, but the anger vibrating through him wouldn’t let him stop the words.
As Marcus drew away, resuming that cool exterior of his, Kate wrapped her arms around herself to compensate for the loss. She didn’t feel good, that much she could discern, her body was still straining to cope with the unspent powers that she had drawn into herself, itching and fizzing in every molecule. It made her skin crawl and Kate wanted to claw at her flesh to rid herself of that feeling.
“I know…” she admitted softly, closing her eyes. She couldn’t cope with Marcus’ censure now, not with everything else too. His anger was so strong she could feel it as a palpable barrier that lay between them. “I… I don’t know why I- ” Kate paused, resting her head against the soft leather seat. “I made a mistake, I th-thought it was for the best, I didn’t want to risk losing anyone else.” She sighed wearily, “I was so close…” she said with an imperceptible shake of her head.
Marcus looked at Kate a little longer then found something outside the car to distract him. Hope was what had driven Kate on, hope and an obsession that bringing back Emma would make her life whole again. Cole had dangled more hope in front of her, the hope that it wouldn't cost her anything.
He could understand the attraction. There was someone he would bring back if it would cost him nothing. With a sigh he let go of his anger at Kate, she wasn't thinking clearly not about this whole issue. "Perhaps neither of us are to blame in this."
Kate opened her eyes to look at Marcus as he continued to stare outside the window. There was that distinct air of loneliness again as he spoke, hollow and empty. Even after everything that they had been through she still knew so little about the man that sat on the opposite side of the car from her, and yet his sudden and unpredictable pangs of loss and loneliness resonated so clearly with her own. Part of Kate wondered, as she sat quietly observing Marcus, whether she would ever see him again after this night while another part wondered if she really wanted to.
She slowly lowered her head as she considered his words, sensing that, although he was clearly still perturbed at the events of not so long ago, at least his anger was not solely directed at her any more. His words should have given her some comfort but she couldn’t convince herself so easily that she shared no blame in what had happened. It HAD been her decision to bring back Emma in the first place, SHE had sought out Marcus’ help and it had been HER choice to let Cole in on the ritual.
“Cole is a child,” she said, picking up on the implication of Marcus’ statement. If neither of them were to blame then that only left one other person. “He’s young and, and he hasn’t had the privilege of the kind of guidance his gift demands.” That much was certainly true, she didn’t know who had trained him before Daye, but if the latter was anything to go by… well Daye’s recent behaviour had expunged her of any real credibility. She was as much a rogue element in the city as the vampires and demons that stalked the streets, and her motives just as questionable.
Kate shook her head dispassionately; knowing all that to be true only highlighted the question of why she had decided to rely so heavily on Cole’s promises in the first place. But although she didn’t particularly want to fight Cole’s corner right now, in fact she was ready to throttle him herself, she would rather curb his errant ways herself than unleash Marcus’ wrath and that of his ‘protector’ upon him.
“Then a little discipline may be in order.” Marcus was a little surprised, he’d expected Kate’s anger to override her innate sense of compassion but it seemed her anger had turned inward to some degree. That wasn’t good, she needed time and distance to understand her role in the final accounting. It would be best if her emotions were turned outwards to others and right now that meant Mr Matthews.
“He used you Kate. I don’t know what for but he did. He knew exactly what he was doing.”
Kate frowned some, thinking on that, maybe Marcus was right after all. Cole had been the one to put the seed in her mind all those months back at Emma’s funeral, that much he could be held accountable for, and there was also the matter of his insincerity and altered personality. Cole had always been a little arrogant but only in the way that most teenagers his age were. But the more Kate thought on it the more she became convinced that Cole could have the same virus that Nikolai had been infected with. Maybe if she’d been a little less obsessed about bringing Emma back she would have noticed it sooner.
“I’m not sure of anything any more,” she sighed tiredly, fighting to hold back her tears at the thought of how she had failed her daughter yet again. “Right now Marcus, I don’t even care.”
*Well that worked...* Marcus reached out and touched Kate. “I know you wanted Emma back but you have a husband I’m sure loves you. There’ll be other children.”
Kate looked at Marcus’s outstretched hand as it rested on her shoulder before turning her gaze away. She might have confided in him much about her life but she had never mentioned her recent miscarriage or the fact that she’d been told flatly that the subsequent trauma would make it difficult for her to conceive again in the future. But Kate couldn’t begin to deal with that now.
“Yes… you’re right,” she agreed instead, though her flat tone and vague expression betrayed her doubt. “I’m being silly, of course there’ll be other children…” *Just not mine.*
He seemed to be hitting all the landmines all of a sudden. "Kate?" he asked gently, it was an invitation to explain. Hopefully she'd take it.
Kate drew back from Marcus’ touch and closed her eyes again, sighing. She didn’t want to explain, how could she? It had taken her such a long time to even admit it to Galen! Slowly she opened her eyes to observe her companion. His face was hardly kind but concern crept into his features nevertheless and against her better judgement Kate found herself ready to open up again.
“I had a miscarriage, almost two months ago now. It was really bad and I was told I might not be able to have any more children.” She drew a sharp breath into her lungs and held it there, pressing it against the flood of pain that swelled up inside. “I guess that’s why I was so desperate to get Emma back, she was my last hope.”
“Tonight you assaulted the gates of Heaven to reclaim your daughter’s soul. You raised enough force to turn the laws of the universe on their head and bring her back to life.” Marcus continued as gently as he could. “You’re going to let something as trivial as biology stop you having children?”
Kate lifted her gaze up to meet the dark intensity of his eyes. She couldn’t help but question his motives, what did he want from her now? They always wanted something after all. She had paid for his services, so why did he care so much to try to give her new hope again?
“What am I going to do?” she asked impassively, her voice dry and emotionless. “And even if I could do something, I just don’t have the strength.”
“I’m afraid that’s your area rather than mine. I’m a necromancer; my skills lie with the dead. Life seems to be where yours lie.” Marcus sighed and settled back into his seat. He didn’t know why he was saying this really. He should just drop her at her home and forget they’d ever met. Unfortunately Kate’s pain was too raw and something in him sought to soothe it as best he could. He carried on hoping he was actually helping.
“You were never really suited to necromancy. Oh, you’re a capable enough magician to use the spells correctly and tonight would have succeeded but for the various interventions, I’m certain of that, but it isn’t where your talents or inclination lead you. Your magic holds the vibrancy of life, but you have to stop looking back to what you’ve lost.”
Kate knew inside that what he was saying made sense, at some point she WOULD have to stop looking back, stop thinking what might have been and move on, she just didn’t know how to do that right now. She regarded Marcus carefully as he reclined more comfortably in his seat.
“I wish I could understand you better Marcus,” she said softly, “you’ve been kind to me, more than you needed to be. I appreciate it more than you can know-”
Suddenly Kate felt another surge of power ripple through her body; she inhaled sharply, halting mid-sentence as her body trembled almost uncontrollably. She gripped the edge of the seat firmly in her fist in an attempt to restrain the sensation, digging her nails into the pliable material with such force that the veins in the back of her hand protruded and her knuckles turned white.
Marcus looked concerned and moved to assist but Kate scrambled back from him, holding him at bay until the moment had passed. “Wait… wait…” she warned as her breathing began to steady again, she didn’t want Marcus too close in case something should happen that she might not be able to control.
“It’s okay…” she said firmly, as much to herself as Marcus as the feeling slowly began to subside. “I’m okay.”
Marcus stayed very still. Kate hadn’t been able to ground the energy she’d gathered from the ritual. He assumed that she had it under control but obviously he was wrong.
“Uh, maybe if you did something with all that you’d find things a little easier. Direct it instead of letting it slip out without any control.” He looked at Kate’s face, “And no, I don’t have any suggestions on what to do with it.”
“Helpful as always huh?” Kate laughed uneasily as she paced her breathing back to normal. “Maybe I can use it to power the National Grid… or not.”
Suddenly Kate became aware of their surroundings as they pulled onto Sycamore Avenue and her own house loomed into view far up the street. Noiselessly the car pulled up outside the whitewashed mansion. Kate peered out of the dark tinted window at her home; she could see a light on downstairs and she released a weary sigh. That meant that someone was awake, no doubt waiting for her. She turned back to Marcus.
“Well… I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” Kate hesitated for a moment before she slid across the seat and wrapped her arms around the man. She smiled at his surprise as she held him close, “I never thought I’d say this Marcus,” she admitted with a half laugh, “but I think I’ll miss you.”
The Long Journey Home Pt 2
Wednesday, 2nd May 2007 – 4:05am
The sleek, black Rolls-Royce of Marcus Dalton drove away noiselessly into the night, becoming almost invisible in the darkness of the early morning. Kate watched it vanish with an air of disappointment before turning back to the house and walking silently up the driveway. The whitewashed manor seemed to glow with a supernatural strength that she had never noticed before, but for Kate everything seemed different now.
She could sense that Galen and Jack were awake, waiting for her inside the house. The spell she had cast had been broken somehow, but she didn’t care about that either. Quietly, she climbed the porch steps leading to the front door and pushed it open.
Galen and Jack sat in the living room, neither saying a word while a small trinket box lay on the coffee table between them, a pile of blue pills scattered on the smooth, mahogany surface.
As Kate stood in the doorway, the two men looked up as though surprised to see her.
“Kate…” said Galen gently, rising from the sofa where he’d been sitting. He took several steps towards his wife but Jack also rose to his feet and firmly held him back. Galen cast Jack an annoyed glance but didn’t attempt to disobey him.
“Where have you been?” he asked anxiously from his enforced distance as his eyes took in Kate’s exhausted appearance and her tear streaked face. “We were so worried, we both woke up and you were gone, we didn’t know what had happened to you…”
Jack watched his daughter sternly before removing a small journal from behind his back, dropping it on the coffee table beside the pile of blue pills. “I think you have some explaining to do.”
Kate observed both the men separately; Galen was genuinely worried while Jack’s anxiety was peppered with anger. Kate turned her gaze to the items on the table. “You went through my things…” she stated blankly, not accusingly although her voice held a certain amount of disappointment.
Jack couldn’t hold back his anger any longer. He stormed over to Kate and, taking her by the arm, marched her over to a chair and sat her down. He flipped open the journal to reveal page upon page of arcane scribblings, ancient symbols and diagrams. Several words jumped out from the clean white paper, words like Spiritus and Mortus and Corpus surrounded by various runes and sketches of pentagrams and other such markings.
“I don’t pretend to understand everything in here, but I recognise enough to know this is magic of the darkest kind. It’s a resurrection spell isn’t it?” At Kate’s silence, Jack slammed his hand down on the table fiercely, “ISN’T IT?” he shouted in fury, “ANSWER ME!”
Galen’s eyes darted intermittently from father to daughter, eventually resting on Kate and the terrified expression on her face. Slowly he shook his head, “Oh no… no Kate, please tell me this isn’t true! What have you done?”
Kate didn’t answer, instead her eyes fixed on the open book before she turned away, tears building up in her eyes as she was reminded of her failure.
Jack eyed his daughter’s reticence with scrutiny, as his gaze fell upon her balled up hand his eyes narrowed suspiciously. He reached out and grabbed her wrist forcefully, Kate cried out in protest but she couldn’t fight against her father’s incredible strength. He pried her hand open to reveal the sore looking knife wound in her palm, his eyes widened.
“You stupid girl…” he said in disbelief, “What have you done!?”
“What needed to be done!” declared Kate suddenly, wrenching her hand from her father’s grip. She was about to spring to her feet but Jack held her back down with that supernatural strength of his.
“You’re not going anywhere young lady, not until we’ve gotten to the bottom of this.”
“What’s there to understand?” cried Kate in frustration, “I tried to bring Emma back and I failed, that’s the end of it!”
Galen glanced at Jack momentarily before kneeling beside where Kate sat, still held firmly in place by her father. “Kate? You’ve already done the ritual?”
Kate’s hands were trembling now, she couldn’t bear being anchored in place like this. She could still feel those mystic energies flowing through every fibre of her body, desperate for release. It took all her strength to contain them though that made the task of controlling them almost impossible.
“I… I…” she stammered in confusion.
“You couldn’t do this on your own, who’s been helping you?” demanded Jack fiercely. “WHO WAS IT!?”
With a sudden strength she didn’t even know she had, Kate shoved Jack back and darted out of his reach. “GET BACK!” she demanded, turning to face the two men. Her eyes had grown black and malevolent again as she thrust out her hand, her finger pointing at them both. “Keep away from me.”
“Oh God…” mumbled Galen in horror at Kate’s sudden metamorphosis.
“It’s okay…” hushed Jack, maintaining a wary stance, “She’s obviously still channelling the magics she’s been invoking. They’re struggling to find an outlet. Whatever you do, don’t give her an excuse to find one.”
Galen nodded in understanding though he still felt slightly baffled as to what was actually going on. “Kate… it’s us, we don’t want to hurt you, just… calm down…”
“I knew neither of you would understand,” Kate spat bitterly, “That’s why I had to take matters into my own hands. Do what had to be done!” she repeated fiercely. “Emma was taken from us unjustly, we weren’t even given a chance to save her! The power is mine now. I can… I can undo the…”
Kate suddenly held her head in suffering as a dizzying pain threatened to take over. “I can make things right…” she gasped breathlessly, moaning weakly before she collapsed to the ground, her body shivering and shaking disconcertingly while she continued to mumble and moan incoherently. Galen ran to her side, gathering his wife into his arms and carrying her over to the couch.
“What the hell is going on Jack?” he exclaimed as he lay her down comfortably.
Jack ran his hand over Kate’s forehead and pulled back her eyelids to reveal fully dilated pupils. Her eyes were entirely black, so much that there wasn’t any white left.
“She’s been messing around in things that she shouldn’t, dark magics, necromancy… If the ritual failed…” Jack’s eyes darted around as he sought Kate’s wrist to take her pulse, “she must have been left with all the powers that she’d invoked, and believe me, that’s a lot of power, more than she can cope with.”
Jack made a few more checks before turning to Galen, “She has a fever and her pulse is weak, her eyes are completely unresponsive. Take her upstairs and get her into bed. I’ll call Doctor Wallis.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
*** Wednesday, May 2, 2007, 10 am ***
***Daye’s apartment***
Daye sat on the sofa in the front room of her apartment. She was waiting for Cole, as usual, and while she waited she concentrated on shoring up the walls she'd built around her "mothers". The only way she could manage to make it through these training sessions with Cole was to spend hours preparing herself for the strain ahead of time. The struggle she went through every day grew worse and worse. If she didn't find some permanent way of ridding herself of these influences Daye feared she would lose her mind completely... or worse, lose her magic completely.
Where once the magic had shielded her from the mental assaults, now it only made them worse. And Daye suspected that Cole knew something was amiss. The boy's insolence and arrogance grew with each passing day. She had been forced to confront him on many occasions, when she felt he was disrespectful. He'd been quick to back down, acting contrite and charming, but Daye still worried. The boy's power was growing by leaps and bounds, while her own was hampered. She wondered if he would honor the blood oath, or try to find some way out of it. It was just another strain on her already taxed mind.
The only time Daye really felt at peace these days was when she was with Marcus. Something about the man soothed her, and miraculously, his presence was guaranteed to quiet both her mothers. Although once he’d gone, they never hesitated to start in again, usually griping about the man himself. Mariah felt the necromancer was beneath their notice, and Erin worried that the man walked a dark path and would be a bad influence on Daye. The very idea was laughable. Daye had craved the sexual release she found with Marcus, but amazingly enough, the companionship, the friendship they were developing was more satisfying than the sex. Daye would never have believed it, but as with the dreaming, she was at peace in his presence. Slowly she was beginning to trust the man, even though she was not naïve enough to believe that there was any depth of feeling on his side. He found her work satisfactory and he enjoyed her body. Daye knew it was nothing like what she’d left behind, but for now this relationship was all she was capable of, and she didn’t expect anything more.
Finally, the handle turned abruptly as the door swung open, allowing Cole to step inside. He already seemed irritated, furious over Goddess knew what.
“I don’t have a lot of time tonight, so we have to make this lesson brief ok?” he said without even so much as a ‘hi’ or ‘hello’. But worst of all, his tone was not even pleading, it was… demanding. The ordeal with Kate and Marcus the night before had left him drained and humiliated. Both witch and necromancer were still very much well and could thus hinder his plan. *I need to speed things up.*
Daye didn't open her eyes immediately. She was deep in the "dreaming" and from there Cole's words were only a faint buzzing in her ear. She stood before the glass box containing both of her mothers and watched their mouths move, unable to make out the words they spoke. There was only a vague hum from where they stood, distracting but tolerable. Daye watched a moment longer, a deep empty ache inside her. There was a part that wanted to drop the shield, to listen to them. They were her mothers, after all. The woman who had given her life and the one who had given her purpose. She was so lonely, and at times she even craved the maddening voices raised in argument to the empty silences that surrounded her.
Finally, sighing, she turned away from the box and drew herself out of the dream and back to the waking world. She came to, sitting on the sofa with her legs tucked under her. Cole stood before her, an expression of impatient annoyance on his face. Daye opened her eyes and looked steadily at him.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, wearily. "I didn't hear you come in. I hope you haven't been waiting long. I was... meditating."
Cole’s eyes became little slits, as he cast his mistress an icy glare. *I didn’t hear you come in, blah blah,* he thought sarcastically, fuming at her nonchalant tone.
“I repeat,” he began slowly, trying to contain the boiling anger. “I do not have a lot of time today, so we need to speed things along. Now did you get it that time, or should I repeat a little slower?”
Daye grimaced at his insolent tone. The boy was definitely getting too big for his britches and she'd allowed his attitude to go unchecked for far too long. Distractions or no, she had to reassert control over her apprentice before it was too late.
"Really, Cole, I think that's quite enough, don't you?" Daye replied coolly, rising to her feet and moving closer to the boy.
She stopped well within the boundaries of his own personal space, towering over him in her attempt to intimidate. Cole was, after all, just a boy and she was not opposed to using any advantage at her disposal to remind him of that fact.
Daye stared down at Cole, her eyes blazing. "I have been far more lenient than many mistresses would be," she continued, her words clipped. "I have tolerated a lot of questionable behavior from you, but I think it's time to draw the line."
Standing that close to Cole, with her ragged defenses taxed to the brink, Daye couldn't help but pick up on the residual power emanating from him. The dark energies that swirled around Cole this morning were not only beyond his control, but they didn't have his personal... flavor, for lack of a better word.
Daye paused in the middle of her tirade and her eyes narrowed. Cole looked exhausted. There was a nasty scratch on his throat, and he reeked of magic. Putting it all together didn't exactly take a genius.
Reaching out with one finger to stroke the mark on his neck, Daye spoke in a deceptively soft whisper. "What have you been up to, my sweet? Been working on your own? But... no..."
Daye leaned forward, dipping her head close to the boy. She drew in a deep breath. "No, that doesn't smell... familiar."
Stepping back, Daye drew on the reserves of dark energy deep inside of her. She held herself in check, but the air in the room suddenly crackled with tension and power. "So, tell me, Cole what exactly have you been doing... and with whom?"
Stifling the shiver that ran down his spine, the boy tried to keep his measure of composure. He would not cower down before her, not any more. Soon he would be the one with all the power, and when he did, he vowed to show her just who she was dealing with.
“If you must know, I was with Kate Wiccham and Marcus Dalton,” he began, his voice ever so slightly wavering with nervousness. “We tried to resurrect her baby Emma last night, but it didn’t work.” The boy remained rigid, waiting to see her next move; no doubt conspiring with Kate would not go over well.
Daye was flabbergasted by Cole's words. He'd been with Kate... and Marcus. She couldn't believe it.
"Marcus?" her voice was bewildered. "Did you say you were with Kate... and Marcus Dalton, the necromancer?"
“That’s exactly who I said I was with,” he replied irritably, his fear of the women fading away as the virus inside irked him onwards. “Am I going to have to repeat everything twice?”
The boy couldn’t help but smirk as Amanda’s face contorted in anger. “Does it bother you that I take on some extra curricular activities? I mean, you didn’t expect me to keep moving forward in my studies at the ridiculously slow pace you are going at?”
Daye didn't hear anything beyond Cole's confirmation. She stumbled back away from him and sat down heavily on the sofa. The power she had gathered drained away.
*I told you the man was beneath you,* Mariah's voice was cold and smug.
*Leave her be, you brat. Can't you see she's hurt?* Erin's tone was troubled.
*Only because she let that man inside... she doesn't need him... or anyone! I keep telling you that, Daye. You don't need anyone!*
*Leave her be. She can't do this alone. She needs help. Dalton wouldn't have been my first choice, but she was starting to trust him.*
*A most foolish mistake, as she can surely now see.*
*It doesn't mean anything. Cole said they were trying to bring back that poor baby. He's a necromancer. That's what he does. It has nothing to do with you, Amanda.*
*Of course it does. It's a betrayal. You've been betrayed.*
*It's not. You're not helping!*
*Shut up, you ninny!*
*No, you shut up, child!*
*Not again! I'm no child. I'm a god, remember!*
*Child!*
"Stop!" Daye shouted aloud, covering her ears with her hands. She shook her head. "Stop! Shut up! Go away! You're all driving me crazy! Just leave me alone!!!!"
“Who the hell are you talking to?” Cole asked in annoyance. “This is getting ludicrous, me coming here, waiting for you to show me something useful. I thought maybe you could help me, but I’ve come to realize I was disillusioned.”
As the boy continued his outburst, his eyes quickly scanned over the room for the components to the spell he knew she had.
“And I think I know why you try to hold me back. You’re just jealous,” he spat. “Jealous that while your abilities have hit a plateau, I continue to grow stronger each day. You know I have more talent than you and you can't handle that!”
*There,* he thought triumphantly, his gaze locking onto a small red crystal one the mantle at the far end of the room. *The Djinn summoning stone.*
Daye lifted her face to Cole. Her eyes were streaming tears and the glamour she'd been maintaining for weeks was gone. She was pale and thin. Her eyes were shadowed.
Daye grimaced at Cole. "I... I'm not jealous of you, Cole," she said wearily. "I don't have the time to be jealous of you. And... I think maybe I made a big mistake trying to teach you these magics. For both of us. Maybe... maybe we're meddling with things we were never meant to. I mean, I understand about missing someone, about wanting what you had back... but... you tried to resurrect Emma? That can't be right. None of this is right."
Daye was babbling. Her voice was thick with tears. "Why can't you leave me be? I can't go home... I can never go home... I'll hurt someone... but, it hurts so much to be here..."
Daye stood and moved towards Cole tetatively. "I think... I'm sick Cole... and maybe you. This is all wrong."
“Don’t touch me,” he sneered in disgust as he took a step back. Now that the glamour was down, he could see that he really did have nothing to fear; the big scary mistress looked like nothing more than a dirty, weak, street vagrant.
With a discreet wiggle of his fingers, the Djinn summoning stone vanished from its resting place, only to reappear inside his pocket. The boy smiled as he turned his attention back to the woman before him and snickered. “I, my dear Amanda, am perfectly well, but you on the other hand, well you are just pathetic.”
Daye shook her head sadly. "No... oh, Cole, what have I done to you?"
Daye stretched out a hand towards him, but the boy shied away, staring at her coldly.
"My... mother said... it's a sickness... we're all sick... you have to help me..." Daye's words were nearly incoherent. "Cole... we have to get better... to get well... so... so we can go home... Don't you want to go home?"
Cole’s expression turned distant, as if the boy was thinking of some far off thing. “Don’t worry Amanda. Soon everything will be better,” he said finally, before leaving the apartment.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
May 2nd, 1pm – The big house
Kyle stepped into Cole’s room, wondering what exactly the kid wanted him for. He had been none too specific. ‘Kyle, need your help quick. Be in my room in half an hour,’ was about it, which left a lot open to interpretation.
Given the kid’s peculiarities, Kyle’s imagination was taking him places he so didn’t want to go.
“Um, Cole?” he asked hesitantly. “You here?”
“Yes, now come in and close the door.” A voice came from the back of the dark room. “Good, good,” Cole started when he saw Kyle had did as instructed. He looked tired, having been out all night. “Now come here and sit opposite me, and be careful to mind all the set up.”
As Kyle walked over, he saw that a tiny altar had been set up, originally obstructed from view by the bed. “I’m kinda in some trouble Kyle, and I really need your help,” the boy said, trying to look scared in hopes of guilting his friend into this.
*Okay, this is looking kinda kinky…* Kyle thought as he took a look around. *Either that, or Cole’s planning some sort of spell.* On reflection, both were about as likely. “Uhh… ok, Cole. What sort of trouble? Does it need a good punching?” he asked enthusiastically.
“You’re sick Kyle,” Cole looked up suddenly, grimacing in disgust. “Get your mind out of the gutter, would you?”
Kyle’s face turned perplexed for a second, until it dawned on him. “Oh, right. Psychic.”
“Good you remember,” Cole replied distractedly, as he withdrew some herbs and let them fall into a stone mortar.
“And, hey,” Kyle said, suddenly offended. “What’s wrong with the gutter?”
Cole ignored him. “See this scar?” he said, turning over his hand so Kyle could see where Daye had marked him weeks ago. “This is the symbol of my oath to another witch. However, said witch is acting very badly and I can’t do anything to protect myself from her until I get rid of this.”
“And I come into this how…? Can’t you just use some spell to super-heal or whatever?”
“Magic is more complicated than that, Kyle,” Cole sighed, trying to control his annoyance. “Taking back this oath, it’s dangerous, complicated, and worst of all, requires a very rare component.”
“So this is not an ‘Eye of Newt’ deal?” Kyle joked.
“Afraid not. I need liquid fire, and since the closest volcano is not very near, I thought of a substitute.”
“Me,” Kyle said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, you,” the younger boy replied, drawing forth a gem encrusted athame. “Please, Kyle, I need some of your blood for this to work.”
Kyle eyed the blade for a moment, then nodded. “Well… okay I guess. It’s not like you’re going to bleed me to death…” he trailed off, then eyed Cole, “Are you?”
Cole smiled triumphantly. “No, no, don’t worry. Now, give me your hand.” Cole gently took hold of his friend’s hand and slowly pressed the blade downwards, drawing a thin line of blood. “Sorry,” he said, feeling Kyle’s hand shiver slightly in pain. “Now, place your hand in mine… And mind out of the gutter Kyle,” Cole repeated, as he winced, feeling the burning power of the demon blood burning his skin.
“Promise of words, burn and char,
through the fire, remove the scar.
What was sworn, no longer be,
Through the fire, shall I be free.”
“I knew there was something fishy about this,” Kyle said absently, looking at their clasped hands. “That it?”
“That’s it,” Cole said, letting go of his friend, and wrapping the burnt hand in already prepared bandages. “You can go now, thanks.”
“So, no jumping around naked? How disappointing.” Kyle climbed to his feet. “Oh, and keep the blood. No, no don’t get up, I’ll find my way out. I can see you’re busy breaking bonds or whatever…” Shaking his head, the demon made his way to the door, not looking back at Cole as he walked out. “Just gimmie a shout if you need any of my other bodily fluids… wait, that didn’t come out right-” The door closed, cutting him off.
Cole laughed as he reached into his pocket and retracted the red summoning stone he had stolen from Daye's. “And now onto the hard part.”
Fever 105
Wednesday, 2nd May 2007 – 4:50am
After the earlier clamour, the house was silent at last.
Galen sat by Kate’s bedside, watching her carefully. Dr Wallis had already been to see her; he’d examined her thoroughly and used a combination of massage and acupuncture to try to ease the distress Kate was in but to no avail.
He’d mumbled something about chakras and a build up of cabbalistic energies that had produced a sort of narcosis condition and then he’d given Kate another shot of phenothiazine along with acetaminophen to lower her temperature and said to call him again if there was any change in her condition. According to Doctor Wallis, the next twelve hours would be the most crucial; it all hinged on when her fever might break.
That didn’t appear to be any time soon.
Kate was restless, tossing and turning in bed so that the sheets were little more than a sticky tangle of damp, perspiration soaked cotton. She mumbled incoherently, occasionally crying out and moaning in distress like she was in the grip of a terrible nightmare, and her body twitched nervously, her limbs making sharp, jerky, movements and shivering uncontrollably.
Galen just didn’t know what to do, whether to try to comfort her or leave her to weather it out on her own. Either way he wouldn’t leave her side, not for a second, and he refused to take his eyes from her in case there was any change.
Slowly Galen reached out and smoothed back Kate’s damp hair from where it stuck against her forehead. She was still warm; her cheeks flushed slightly, pink in contrast to her pale skin. He carefully wrung out a damp cloth in a porcelain bowl of water by the bedside, gently patting her face dry before laying it across her forehead to try and cool her down.
“I know you can hear me,” he said quietly as he tended to her, “I don’t pretend to know what you’ve been going through all these weeks… months…” he sighed wearily, “I wish I did. I used to feel that I knew everything about you, that I could understand everything that you did…” His voice trailed off uselessly and he rested his head on the edge of the mattress, taking a deep breath.
“Oh god, Kate, this is all such a mess. I can’t believe that you’d- why would you do something like this? You don’t even practice this kind of magic… did I really treat you so badly that you thought this was the only way to make things right?”
Galen shook his head uselessly, “I thought we were getting somewhere after you told me about the miscarriage, I really thought we were getting back on track, and all this time you…”
He fell quiet and looked up at Kate as she moaned again weakly, her breath slightly more anxious. Galen frowned and leaned over her, untangling the bedsheets and pulling them straight again. He gently rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, his eyes lingering on her sleepless form.
“Just be okay…” he said softly, taking her trembling hand and squeezing it firmly. Her skin was clammy, hot beneath the layer of sweat and her fingers were still trembling even beneath his tight hold. “Just be okay… for me.”
***11:34am***
“JACK!! … … … … JACK!!”
Galen shouted frantically as he rushed from the bathroom. The thundering sound of running water seeming louder than usual as it shattered the previous hush of the house. Galen stopped by the bed, pulling Kate up into his arms. She was all floppy and difficult to handle, her body slumping awkwardly like a dead weight no matter how he tried to manoeuvre her.
All he could think about was how he had taken her temperature an hour ago and she’d been okay, then, sixty minutes later she was burning up again with a fever peaking at 105F.
“Kate? Kate?” he called, slapping her cheek lightly in a repetitive motion to try and revive her. When he got no response, Galen held his hand flat against Kate’s burning forehead. Her skin was soaking with perspiration, her cheeks flushed bright red.
“God no, please” he begged quietly to whatever omnipresent entity might be listening, picking Kate up in his arms and carrying her to the bathroom. The sound of running water was even louder as the faucet filled up the bathtub with icy cold water.
“JACK!” he shouted again, as he sat on the edge of the bathtub, still holding Kate cradled in his arms. “JACK!!!”
Suddenly Kate moaned again, rolling her head against Galen’s arm as he held her. Galen looked down at his wife and smiled weakly, kissing her hot forehead. “It’s okay honey,” he soothed, “You’re going to be fine, just… hang on…”
“What… what’s happening?” panted Jack breathlessly as he came bounding into the room.
“She’s burning up,” explained Galen quickly. “Shut that off for me, will you?” he asked indicating towards the cold water faucet. “Phone Dr Wallis, and bring up as much ice as you can from the freezer, we have to bring her temperature down now and this is the only way I can think of doing it.”
Jack nodded in agreement before disappearing again.
Galen leaned over the tub, holding Kate in his arms. Her flesh was so hot against his own, hot and sticky with her sweat, so much so that her lace slip stuck to her body like a second skin. Gently, Galen lowered her into the freezing cold bath.
As soon as her burning flesh met the frigid water, Kate gasped in shock, her eyes opening for the first time since she’d collapsed downstairs, revealing heavily dilated pupils against the white of her eyes. Her breathing became strained - sharp; struggling breaths broke through her trembling lips, making her chest heave rapidly in that same jagged rhythm.
Galen held her tightly under her arms, making sure that her head remained above the water level. He felt a twinge of relief at seeing Kate awaken but it was short lived as she closed her eyes again and seemed to slip back into unconsciousness as her body struggled to reaccustom itself to the sudden change in temperature.
Galen’s heart beat furiously in his chest as he continued to hold Kate in the bath. The thin fabric of her slip floated around her legs like a strange kind of sea anemone.
“Come on Kate…” he urged quietly, waiting for any kind of response. Her breasts continued to rise and fall rapidly in time to her breathing, creating ripples across the water’s surface. Galen carefully made a cup with his free hand and gathered up some water to pour over Kate’s face, cooling her feverish skin.
“There…” he said gently, gathering up more and more water, pouring it over her shoulders and the back of her neck, her face and her scalp, wetting her silky hair. “There… there… you’re going to be okay honey,” he soothed lovingly, bending over to kiss her forehead again. “You’re going to be okay, just hold on…”
***5:48pm***
“I love you, Kate,” Galen whispered as he held his wife’s chilled hand. As her temperature had fallen he and Jack had taken her out of the bath, wrapped her up in towels and blankets and put her back to bed. Though she seemed much calmer, her pulse was still low and her fingers continued to tremble involuntarily.
Galen hadn’t slept at all even though Jack had offered to take over his vigil while he got some rest. Of course Galen had refused. Kate was his wife; if anything happened to her while he wasn’t there he’d never forgive himself. Besides, he wanted to be there when she woke up, he wanted her to know that he would never leave her.
He swept back a few tendrils of damp hair from her face, smiling a little at how much cooler she felt. He glanced nervously at the clock – over twelve hours had passed and although her fever had reduced it hadn’t broken and Kate was still trapped in its thrall.
“Please wake up…” he whispered quietly, his fingers gently stroking Kate’s warm cheek. “You can’t leave me you know? I won’t let you, I won’t let you leave me all alone.”
Kate mumbled incoherently, her head turning restlessly from side to side for a moment before she settled again. Galen let a shaky sigh escape his lips and he brushed her hair back from her face again.
“I was thinking, do you remember the first Christmas we spent together? Before Emma was born? We drove up to Oregon for the holidays, just the two of us. We rented that old log cabin up in the woods and it snowed so heavily, they’d not seen snow like that for years. It fell for weeks, these great, heavy flakes that stuck to your clothes like glue. We couldn’t even set foot outside the front door never mind go anywhere… not that we wanted to.”
Galen smiled as he remembered that time, his hand stroking rhythmically over Kate’s. “That was the first Christmas I ever looked forward to, you know that? We never really celebrated Christmas when I was a kid. Dad was always on detail somewhere, and Mom would spend the holidays at the local homeless shelter helping out. I know I shouldn’t complain, but just once I would have liked the picture book scene… a tree, presents, carols at midnight… you gave me all that, you gave me all that and so much more…”
Galen looked up at Kate’s peaceful face; she had calmed down quite a bit as her fever had dropped, she looked almost serene now. He pulled the blankets warmly around her shoulders, tucking her in more securely. “Please don’t leave me now, Kate…”
***9:23pm***
The house had grown dark again. Morning had passed long ago, taking the afternoon and evening with it. Now it was night again and darkness loomed like an uninvited guest in the bedroom.
Galen had fallen asleep about twenty minutes ago though he had fought against it for hours. The coffee cups had piled up by the bedside, supplied by Jack who had stopped insisting that Galen take a break many hours ago after every appeal was met with the same answer – No.
Still, sleep had eventually won the battle of wills, Galen’s eyes had dipped once, twice, three times, dragging him down further and further each time into that realm of dreams until he couldn’t fight it any more.
He slept quietly, his head resting on the bed not far from where Kate also slept quite soundly. Her fever had broken about an hour ago and slowly she had begun to come back to her senses. Her eyelids fluttered gently, her breathing a little heavier as she gradually opened her eyes.
The room was too dark for her to see much of anything and she felt chilled to the bone, her hair still damp against her scalp. Slowly, Kate stretched her hand out to gently touch Galen’s which rested not far from where she lay.
“Galen?” she croaked weakly, then cleared her throat and tried again, gripping her fingers around the end of his thumb. “Galen?”
Galen stirred slightly, groaning a little as he awoke to Kate’s quiet entreaty. “Kate?” he moaned sleepily, raising his head to look at her. “Hey… you’re awake…”
Kate smiled weakly, “So are you…”
Galen laughed silently, “Yeah… I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I wanted to be here when you woke… How are you?”
Kate nodded and shrugged a little, “Tired.”
“Well I know how that feels,” smiled Galen, taking Kate’s hand in his and squeezing it tightly.
“Galen, I’m sorry,” Kate said breathlessly, tears glistening in her eyes, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t know how I ever thought that trying to bring Emma back would make things better, I just-” Kate pressed her lips together to stop herself from crying, “I just can’t seem to get anything right any more.”
“Shhhh,” soothed Galen quietly, scooting onto the edge of the bed so that he could hold Kate in his arms. “Shhhh, it’s okay… it’s okay…”
“No, it’s not okay,” wept Kate, pressing her face into Galen’s shoulder, “I… I’ve been deceiving you these past two weeks, I used magic on you and Jack, put you to sleep so I could…” Kate looked up into Galen’s eyes, her body shaking with emotion. “I… I tried to bring her back, I DID bring her back, I found her soul across the Great Divide, I brought her body back to life… I felt her Galen, I felt Emma’s soul in my own, I could feel her heartbeat…”
Galen shook his head in dismay, still holding Kate close in his arms. “I know you miss her, I know it tears you up inside every day, I feel the same. Empty and lost, like I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing any more. But I just don’t understand why… why you thought that this was the answer.”
Kate hung her head in shame, “I don’t know… it’s like, I got this thing in my head that if Emma was here, if I could bring her back, then everything would be as it was, then we could pretend none of this had happened. And I just wanted things back as they were, with you and me and Emma…”
Galen sighed, tilting Kate’s chin so that she faced him. He gently wiped away her tears with the sleeve of his sweater. “You know you have to let her go, let her rest in peace. She deserves that much, doesn’t she?” At Kate’s slow nod, Galen held her tighter, cradling the back of her head against his shoulder.
“It’s just you and me now,” he said quietly as he stroked his fingers through her hair comfortingly, “And that’s going to take a while to get used to but it’s just the way things have to be.”
He looked down at his wife as she rested in his embrace and at the same time Kate looked up, her gaze meeting Galen’s. “That’s not so bad is it?” he asked softly, brushing back a strand of hair from her face. “You and me?”
Kate shook her head slowly. Her eyes still looked sad and lost but she buried her face against Galen’s chest again, drying her damp cheeks on his sweater. “No…” she whispered with a sigh, holding him closer. “That’s not bad at all.”
Research and Recriminations
Thursday, 3 May 2007 – 9:34am – The Home of Kate and Galen Eldridge
Kate sat cross-legged on the bare wooden floor of the library, surrounded by stacks of ancient looking tomes, their pages spread open in front of her as she read from several at the same time.
“I just don’t understand how you can behave like nothing has happened,” came Jack’s hushed voice from outside the room. “Kate nearly died yesterday, she tried to raise the spirit of your dead daughter from beyond the grave! She’s been lying to the both of us for weeks now, sneaking out to meet with this necromancer, whoever he is, casting magic spells on the two of us-”
“Jack, just… give it a rest okay? I’m telling you now to drop it.”
“But-”
“But nothing!” said Galen sharply before lowering his voice again. He’d been having the same conversation with Jack all morning and it was growing tiresome. “I know what she did and believe me I’m not happy about it-”
“’Not HAPPY about it!’” echoed Jack in disbelief.
“She knows what she did was wrong!” said Galen angrily, “My god, Jack. She nearly died last night… That’s why I’m trying to be reasonable about the whole thing, because… I nearly lost her. She needs my support - both our support, and our understanding. But you know what Jack? I DO understand because if it was in MY power to have done something to bring Emma back I would have done it a long time ago!”
In the library Kate smiled at Galen’s words and defensive tone, turning over another page silently.
“But most of all,” continued Galen from out in the hallway, his voice firm and unyielding. “I am determined to do right by her this time. When Emma died I… I’m ashamed of how I acted, how I let her down and I won’t do that again, not now.”
“You don’t think you’re letting her down by not doing anything about this?” said Jack, his voice laced with disapproval.
“And what am I supposed to do? It’s done, it’s over, what else is there to say except dragging up the past?”
“What about this necromancer… Dalton?” Jack scratched his head thoughtfully; the name meant something to him but he couldn’t quite recall what.
Galen’s sigh was audible even in the other room and Kate scrunched up her nose at it.
“Kate said she paid for his assistance, that kind of person… they only care about what price they can get for their efforts, I don’t think he’ll be bothering us again.”
“I’m glad you can be so sure,” scoffed Jack, “I just think Kate would benefit if you talked to her about…”
Jack’s voice trailed off as the two men moved away from the hallway, the muffled sound of retreating footsteps replacing the hushed voices. Kate sighed and turned back to her neglected book. She was glad Galen had decided to stand by her on this. She really couldn’t have coped with taking on both her husband and her father right now. She still felt drained from the magics she had employed two nights ago, not to mention her subsequent fever. But despite all that she felt much better in herself, better than she had in months. It was like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders along with her fever. She felt cleansed as though she’d been waiting all this time for that one climactic moment to reset the balance.
In many ways Kate was glad that the ritual had failed. As much as she yearned for even one more day with her daughter Marcus was right, if the price for her resurrection had meant the death of someone else she loved equally, Jack or Galen, she would never have been able to forgive herself and maybe that would have eventually poisoned the love she felt for Emma. Kate didn’t know if she’d ever be able to fully let go of her baby, or get over the terrible grief she felt at her loss, but at least she still had Galen and Jack to help her carry on living.
Kate stifled a sob behind a heavy sigh. She was getting good at controlling her emotions now, burying them deep inside where they couldn’t escape and where others couldn’t see how awful she felt every single moment of every day.
She turned her attention back to the book that lay in front of her, forcing herself to focus on the words. She didn’t really feel like doing research but it was better than crying or sitting staring into nothing and certainly better than talking to Doctor Brown as Jack had suggested. Besides, Kate did feel a little guilty that she’d promised Koyla over a week ago that she would try to find out about mana and look for a cure for the virus, and so far she’d hardly done anything about either of those things.
Coming to the end of the page she flipped it over and continued reading.
Extract from - ‘Living Earth, Vol 2’ by Silvia Hart PhD, 1962
Kate set that book to one side. Though it certainly raised a few interesting points it was slightly too ‘New Age’ to be of any real significance. She was still confused by the term ‘mana’; it didn’t appear in any of the texts she had read so far. The more Kate thought about it the more it seemed familiar, perhaps she had read about it… somewhere, if only she could get her focus back.It has been suggested from as far back as can be remembered that living energy is the source that binds the universe together. It is my belief that the two cannot be easily separated. The whole universe is a living, remembering, self-revising entity that is as responsive to the act of will or magic as the energies that bind it together. Living energy is a part of every being in existence or that ever was in existence, it is a part of us, our whole lives, for there is not one aspect of life that is not constantly being energised and enhanced by the force of living energy.
But this is not a static force, it is fluid, adaptable and in turn puts each and every one of us in touch with the magic that is out there, allowing us to interact with the living energy system that we are all a part of.
“Come on Kate, concentrate,” she said to herself firmly, rising to her feet and opening another packing case and removing several more books, stacking them neatly on the floor. “Ugh!” she groaned, lifting a particularly heavy grimoire, “Shame these things aren’t on CD-ROM.”
Settling back down on the floor she pulled out a particularly dusty tome, running her fingers over the worn leather cover. As she flicked through the pages, the smell of dry, musty paper and ancient leather assailing her nostrils, she came across an interesting article and began to read avidly.
Extract from - ‘Mana and the transmutation of Living Energy’ in ‘Mages from all Ages’ by Hilary Greenwood, 1884
“Hey, what you reading there?”It has long been my desire to define the force by which the magical workings of the supernatural wicca, or wiccan, take effect on a biological scale. The culmination of research spanning the past decade has led me to the conclusion that it is by no means indiscriminate. In fact there are many disparate theories concerning the symbolic representation of an ‘other’ or evolutionary force that has made a select proportion of humanity, myself included, more susceptible to supernatural workings of an occult nature.
While it is not impossible for the lay practitioner to execute spellcraft without prior experience or even a strong knowledge of the subject, it is commonly believed that certain people possess an innate predilection for supernatural workings that cannot be reproduced.
But what is the driving force by which a physical change is exercised or made manifest by the will or desire of such a proportionality? It is my experience in my own practice that living energy, the force which is evident in all natural substances, is in effect ‘raised’ or ‘collected’ whether consciously or subconsciously and either stored or channelled into the subject for use at an indeterminate period. The subsequent application at an occult level is thereby a force that is entirely natural from formation to execution.
However, the directionality is much different and it is therefore the channels by which this energy is stored and transformed that need further inspection.
These conduits of energy are controlled, in part by the directive forces prevalent in the Mystic – referred to in some circles as mana. It behoves me to probe a little further into this term that in previous years has been used so loosely and yet has been all but removed from the vernacular of the mage in recent times. Mana, by the definition set out by Cornelius Grove, has often been used to describe the compulsion that directs the output of magical forces after they have been transmuted by the bio-organic nature of supernatural beings.
It was only after a recent field trip to New Zealand where I stayed with the Maori Iwi of Kaitaia that it was manifest as a definite and driven power. In fact the word derives from this very diverse and varied nation and means simply that, a power or means of prestige. However, amongst the Maori Rongoä Tangata, or medicine men, it takes on a different meaning, one that has rested uncomfortably amongst westernised practitioners of The Craft.
In te reo Maori though, Mana or Manatü (always capitalised) has long been used to describe the substance that allows the Atua huänga or supernatural being to channel living energy which goes some way to explain the depletion of energy reserves in magi after magical workings. According to the Maori, Mana is ‘spent’ or ‘used’ in the execution of all mystical applications because it is the substance through which energy is transformed to produce a physical imprint of will upon the natural world.
Kate suddenly jumped as she felt Galen’s hand on her shoulder. She had been so engrossed in the text that she hadn’t even noticed him enter the room. “Oh, Galen…” she gasped in surprise, looking up at her husband, “You startled me. Where’s Jack?”
“Sorry,” chuckled Galen as he looked around for somewhere to sit, “Jack… he had to go out,” he explained with an almost unperceived hint of relief. “We should really get some chairs in here,” he laughed again in an attempt to lighten the mood as he set down the tray he was carrying and joined Kate on the floor.
“I just thought I’d bring you something to eat, you’ve been working so hard I thought you might be hungry.”
Kate looked down at the bowl of fruit and stack of blueberry pancakes that rested on the tray and smiled. “I’m starved,” she said, picking up a strawberry and biting into the juicy flesh with another smile. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me, it’s like I haven’t eaten in months!”
“That’s because you haven’t eaten in months,” chuckled Galen, gazing at his wife adoringly. She seemed so much like her old self this morning some of her sparkle had returned too, he just hoped it lasted. “I’m just glad you have your appetite back, it’s wonderful to see you eating again.”
Kate rolled up one of the pancakes in her fingers and took a large bite, holding a hand to her stomach and making a face of exaggerated pleasure as she ‘Mmmmmm’ed’ in approval before swallowing the mouthful down with a gulp of milk. “These are wonderful… did I say it feels like I haven’t eaten in months?”
Galen smiled and let his hand rest on top of Kate’s, gently rubbing her fingers beneath his own. He would have loved to kiss her just now. It had been such a long time since the two of them had shared any kind of intimate embrace and he desperately wanted Kate to know how much he loved her. But he also didn’t want to rush things. Galen knew their relationship wouldn’t just magically return to how it had been four months ago no matter how much he wanted it. Things had changed beyond repair, their baby… their beautiful little baby had died, and every plan they’d ever made for the future seemed unsalvageable.
They sat in silence for a long moment, Kate eating a little more while she flicked through the pages of another one of her books. Finally, Galen rose to his feet with a quiet, weary sigh.
“I guess I’ll just leave you to it then,” he said with a half-hearted smile, walking towards the door. “If you need anything…”
Kate smiled warmly, glancing up at her husband. She couldn’t help but feel a sad ache inside as she looked at him. Galen was visibly tired and worn, and there were several distinguishable lines on his face that hadn’t been there before. Kate knew that was her fault, maybe not entirely her fault but she owned a large proportion of the blame nevertheless.
“I know,” she said softly, conveying her gratitude with another gentle smile, “Thanks.”
[/][/]Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
May 1st
2:05 pm
Nikolai’s apartment
Alessa walked the now familiar hall of Nikolai’s apartment building, although she tended to think of it as Simryn’s apartment building now. She slowed her pace while passing by her new friend’s door, but didn’t perceive any sounds coming from it and assumed the Indian wasn’t home. She wasn’t there to see her anyway, she wanted to check on Nikolai once again, so she kept walking towards the Russian’s place.
*** Flashback ***
April 26th
11:05 am
Nikolai’s apartment building
“Nik, you there?” Alessa asked without much hope, leaning against her friend’s door. She had been knocking for a good ten minutes so he most probably wasn’t in. She was about to leave when she heard a low ruffling against the inside of the door, followed by a meowing. She smiled and crouched slipping her fingers beneath the door to touch the soft paws of the cat.
“Hello gatito, you must be Tolstoy,” she said, and received a low purr in response. “So, Tolstoy, your master’s not home, right?” She willed her fingers to get thinner so she could caress the silky fur of the cat, still smiling. She was definitely a cat person; maybe she should get one at the big house. Giving it a last caress, she stood up and talked again, “Well, dear, just tell old Nik I was here, ok?” Alessa laughed at her own silliness and turned to leave.
Simryn leaned against her door; her lithe body a study in nonchalance as she watched the stranger bent near the door down the hall. Earlier in her room, the Kshatrani had heard a sound outside in the hall and thinking that Nikolai had come home she had gone to her own door. But it wasn’t the man in whose arms she’d lain, and Simryn felt a small niggling of jealousy as her gaze raked over the lovely young woman.
After all, while she knew that Nikolai was her soul mate didn’t mean he felt the same… despite the passion they had shared. Simryn wasn’t so naïve as to mistake lust for love, especially in the liberated Western world that surrounded her.
Still… what she had experienced with him surpassed anything she had ever known or wanted or hoped for. Waving a hand in front of her face to dismiss any doubts, Simryn approached the woman just as she turned with a small smile that barely reached her eyes.
Alessa gave a startled cry when she turned to find herself almost nose to nose with a beautiful exotic looking woman. She took a quick step backwards and gave the woman a shaky smile.
“I’m sorry, you startled me,” she said, feeling the need to explain her presence in the hall. The other looked so at ease there that she was probably another tenant. “I… I wanted to see Nikolai Makarov. Do you know if he’ll be back soon?”
“Forgive me for alarming you,” Simryn said softly, her gaze pensive as she considered whether or not to answer the other woman’s question. Well, she didn’t seem threatening and she obviously was familiar enough with Nikolai to know he had a bili. Decision made, the Kshatrani gave a slight bow, her palms together in front of her in greeting. “I am Simryn, Nikolai should be home soon. It would please me if you would wait in my room for him, yes?” she said, pushing her own door open in welcome.
Alessa doubted for the briefest second, then smiled and walked into Simryn’s apartment. But she just needed to talk to Nik, and Reah had given her the rest of the morning off, besides it was better than waiting in the hall.
“Thank you Simryn,” she said as the woman closed the door behind them, “I’m Alessa, I work with Nikolai, and I need to deliver him some stuff.”
She looked around, noticing the exotic decoration of the apartment, mostly in earthy shades. There was a little altar beside the window and the sound of bells resonated as the gentle breeze flowed in. “This is very nice,” she commented, a smile on her mouth. She always felt some kind of connection with foreigners and this woman was obviously a foreigner. “Where are you from, Simryn?”
Closing the door, Simryn ignored Alessa’s question at least for the moment. “You are welcome, Alessa,” she said, letting the unfamiliar name roll off her tongue as she tried it out. She motioned toward couch with its abundance of cushions, “Please sit down, I will be right back,” she said walking into the kitchenette to put together some refreshments
Among her people, hospitality was extended equally to friends and enemies if one wanted to uphold one’s honour. Working quickly, she brought out glasses of cold Ruhavza as well as a plate of assorted sweetmeats, holding them out to Alessa so she had to take one of the tall drinks.
“I am from India,” she finally replied, without elaboration. In her experience, people rarely knew the name of the city where she came from. Sitting down on the other side of the couch, Simryn took a glass for herself, sipping it slowly and letting the cold sweetness trickle down her throat. Looking over at Alessa, who was regarding the pink stuff somewhat distrustfully, Simryn hid her smile. "And where do you hail from, Alessa?"
Finally taking a sip of the sweet drink, Alessa smiled. “I’m from South America; Paraguay to be more precise.” She rolled the cool glass in her hands, nervous as the Indian studied her, the silence prolonging awkwardly. She could feel something strange in Simryn’s eyes, and she regretted having accepted her invitation. Trying to get to common ground, she spoke again. “Have you known Nikolai for long?”
“Forever,” Simryn murmured, when Alessa looked askance, she grinned, “I said that it feels like I’ve known him forever.” She’d spoken wryly but only she knew how true those words really were and she raised her glass to her lips to hide the ironic twist of her lips. Suddenly, as the Kshatrani gazed at the woman in front of her who had been but a stranger moments ago, she realized that she could truly like Alessa and that she had never had a seheli; a female who was a friend and sister all in one.
Just another part of her previous life that was paradoxical and incomplete, she thought bitterly. As if this realization had opened a gate, Simryn found herself speaking earnestly, of this world. “Truthfully it hasn’t been that long. My companion and I moved here a few months ago and things are very new to me… very different. I am still getting used to these Western ways. Tell me,” she said confidingly, “what did you think of these people when you first came to this land, I must admit their ways are mysterious to me… and sometimes I feel as if I shall never fit in.”
Alessa gave a nervous laugh, but her eyes shone with sympathy. “What a question Simryn!” she noticed that her host had been taken aback with her outburst and immediately added in earnest. “I mean, I don’t think I’d ever really ‘fit in’ anywhere.” She wasn’t making it easier, she placed the glass on the low table in front of them and tried to explain herself without lying to Simryn. “You see, I was born in a small town in Paraguay, my mother was a… native, and my father American, so I never really belonged to either world.” She smiled again, and her eyes got dreamy. “However, I’m closer in temperament to my homeland’s people, and Americans… well, sometimes they’re just a little cold.”
Simryn recognized the look in Alessa’s eyes because it was the same one she often had in her own when she thought about her homeland. She gave a genuine burst of laughter that tinkled merrily in the air and reached out to pat Alessa on the hand. “You must miss your land as I miss mine. I understand exactly what you mean. In India, family is the cornerstone of our lives. Parents, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and friends always surround you so that sometimes it’s hard to have a quiet moment to yourself. But there is so much joy, and revelry and camaraderie…” her voice trailed off wistfully and Alessa was giving her that same understanding smile.
They sat there a while in comfortable silence, until they heard the sound of footsteps walking in the hall. “Let me check if that is Nikolai,” Simryn said and practically skipping to the door. Opening it slightly, she poked her head outside and suppressed a sigh of disappointment as she saw a swarthy man in an appallingly flamboyant shirt disappearing up the stairs.
“Is it him?” Alessa called out from inside and Simryn shook her head, turning to walk more sedately back to her seat. “Are those bells on your feet?” Alessa asked, noticing the tinny jingling noise when Simryn took a step.
“Oh yes, all the women in my India wear them,” the Kshatrani replied, lifting the hem of her trailing skirt to reveal the two silver chains around her ankles. Small bells dangled from each link. “We call them payal but I don’t know what they would be called here.”
Alessa grinned, “Me neither.”
“Here, I have many,” Simryn said going to her room. When she came back a short moment later she held out a small wooden box to Alessa who opened it cautiously. Inside lay another set of the anklets. Taking them out, Simryn swung them to make the bells chime and proceeded to show Alessa how to put them on.
Alessa watched her ankle and moved it tentatively to hear the jingling sound. It was beautiful and it made her ankle look even thinner over her high heeled sandals. She grinned and gave Simryn an impulsive quick hug. “Thank you Simryn, they are beautiful.” She smiled even more broadly when she felt the woman respond to the embrace, it was good to find somebody who didn’t tense at her overimpulsive temperament.
She leaned back and inspected the Indian woman, her eyes taking on the long skirts and shirt she was wearing. They were beautifully embroidered, green and gold thread over a deeper green, and a row of little mirrors reflected the light. A gauzy sash was arranged around her head, contrasting delightfully against her dark hair and mirroring the color of her eyes. *How many shades of green can eyes have?* she wondered, comparing Simryn’s dark, foresty green eyes to her own brighter tone. All in all she looked enchanting, like a print from an old fairy tale book. “In fact, all your clothes are charming,” she said.
“They are what everyone wears in India,” Simryn replied waving her hand casually, but delighted that Alessa liked the payal. Looking her new friend over with pursed lips, Simryn admired the fitted lines of Alessa’s deep red pants that flared around her ankles to reveal jaunty sandals. The blouse, Simryn wasn’t sure what it was called, had wisps of white lace trailing over the bronzed skin of Alessa’s shoulders and Simryn liked how it brought out the honey tones of her curly hair. She exuded an aura of confidence and grace that probably captured looks from both men and women.
“Do you know,” Simryn began slowly as if divulging a wayward secret, “I would dearly love to have clothes like yours. Is there any place where I can purchase these western garments? All the clothes I have with me are like this one and those picked out by my companion.” She made a face, which aptly revealed to Alessa what she thought of those.
Alessa smiled broadly and eyed Simryn’s body speculatively; she was tall and thin and would look great clad in any kind of clothes. And shopping had become one of her favorite activities lately, she still had to complete her new wardrobe, anyway. “I tell you something, I was planning on buying some new clothes for myself, would you like to come with me? I mean…” Alessa grinned, “it’s always better to buy clothes with a friend, how else would you know what really fits you?”
Simryn’s face lit with a broad smile. The thought of a ‘shopping expedition’ with this beautiful woman sounded perfect. “Oh, I’d love to. Do you have time now? We could go shop-”
Alessa laughed at the Indian girl obvious excitement, but raised a hand to refrain her. “I’m sorry Simryn, today I just can’t,” she said, remembering she was meeting Ellis that afternoon. “I have a previous appointment.” At the disillusionment in Simryn’s eyes she quickly added. “But I promise I’ll come back tomorrow. Would that be ok with you?”
“That’d be perfect, Alessa,” the woman responded, and Alessa grinned, checking her watch, she still had a couple of hours.
“Meanwhile we could make a list about the things you’ll need. I assume you want to get western things from the skin outwards?” she asked.
The two women spent the following couple of hours delightfully talking about clothes, accessories and make up; mingling stories about their homelands and family. By the time Alessa finally had to leave, she knew that even if Simryn was keeping some things to herself – so had she, for that matter – they had made that kind of connection that was so rare between strangers. The kind that usually sets the basis for a strong friendship.
*** End of flashback ***
Alessa approached the door and stared at it for a second before knocking. She was mad at Nik. He had been absent from work for about ten days now. That wouldn’t have been worrying in itself, he had been absent before, but she had been actively trying to get in touch with him for about a week now, with no results. Reah didn’t know where he was, and she had talked to his girlfriend, the Watcher woman, and she couldn’t or wouldn’t tell her anything about the Russian’s whereabouts. However, when she had finally asked Simryn, she had told her that he had been in his apartment all along. That meant that he just wasn’t answering her calls and ignoring her visits, and that angered her. Well, she needed to talk to him, he would listen to her even if she had to break the door.
Just wishing she wouldn’t have to come to it, she knocked Nikolai’s door with short but firm knock that sounded clearly in the deserted hall.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
May 1st
2:05 pm
Nikolai’s apartment
Nikolai looked up, magical books still strewn about his table. He'd spent a few days with Alicia before feeling the urgency of the task dawn on him again, of trying to discover the truth about this mana. She'd even decided to check her resources, and then they would get together in the evenings to compare notes. The Russian spent the time doing everything in his power to avoid running into anyone. Say what you would, he just didn't want to be around people at the moment. Even going so far as to deliberately avoid calls or knocking.
At the sound of the constant knocking on his door which grew ever louder, he finally decided to go see who was there when it became apparent that they weren't going away. Taking a look out the spy hole, he sighed. *Alessa. Great. Reah probably sent her to find out why I'm not at work,* he thought, before opening the door. "Strassvichye," he said, allowing his accent to creep back into his voice. "Please, come in, Alessa."
The demoness smiled, albeit a little coldly, at the disheveled man. But she was relieved he had opened the door. She had heard him inside and had been about to start shouting through the door like a fishwife when she heard the key unlocking it.
“Buenas tardes, Nikolai,” she said, entering the apartment, but after a quick glance at him and around the place she went on, “Although I don’t think it is so good. The afternoon, I mean,” she explained when she saw his confused look. At his continuous stare she shook her head and sighed, “Never mind.”
Looking for a seat free of books on it to settle, she walked into the room. “I’m glad you deigned to open the door, Nik. I really needed to talk to you.”
Nikolai shuffled some of the books off of a chair, trying to make room for Alessa. Tolstoy appeared from behind the pile, giving Nikolai a vicious look. How dare you wake me up? it seemed to say. "I'm sorry, but we need to give Alessa a place to sit," he said, hearing her laugh some at the cat's antics - particularly when the animal looked at her and spoke a single "meow" before wandering off.
"I'm sorry, I've just been very busy with research lately," he apologised, feeling a sense of urgency about her visit. He was willing to bet that he could guess what this was about, but still would wait for her to say.
Alessa took one of the books from his hands and frowned at the title, then she opened it and scanned the pages. “Mana?” she asked, raising her eyes again, the term sounded somewhat familiar. “Research about what?”
Nikolai sighed, picking up his glass of vodka before taking a long drink. The discussion was inevitable in its own way, and she might be able to help. "I've been infected with a virus," he said. "Behaviour altering. It... feeds... off mana. I'm currently trying to find out just what that is."
“Maldición!” Alessa cursed, and sat down, blinking. It was just too creepy. She waved her hands, looking for words. “I… I think I need one of those,” she said finally, nodding to the bottle.
With an excuse, Nikolai hurried to pour her a shot of vodka, which she gulped too quickly, getting her eyes all teary and her throat in flames. Caressing her neck, she swallowed before speaking.
“There’s something in me too,” she said, and reached for her bag, where she had stuck Ellis' and her results. “I took some tests, and my brain and responses came out altered too. Probably the effects of some virus, chances are it’s the same.”
Nikolai raised an eyebrow as he considered her words. Alessa infected as well? He stopped to consider her carefully, focusing on the feelings coming from her. They didn't seem substantially different. *Perhaps it is different for each individual,* he thought.
"Really? What are your symptoms, then?" he asked. Nikolai wondered what the truth was, and Garak's words came back to him: 'Just notice the details...' Well then, what were the details? "Though this does seem to be more mystical in nature, I should warn you."
She gave a deep sigh, “Well, I… I’ve been acting somewhat… different. It isn’t easy to explain; bitchy, snappy…” she blushed, “Kinda horny too.”
She hurried to go on, “I can't really put a finger to it, but my friend, Ellis, well, he experienced the same kind of things, and he took the tests, and later I took them too.” She opened the files and took the analyses’ summaries. “The doctors found some alterations in our brains, a dysfunction in the ‘Limbic System’. The part of the brain that rules emotions and morality.”
Alessa raised her eyes and noticed his skeptical look. “Look, Nikolai, what’s important is that they couldn’t find any physical reason for it, they are convinced its mystical in nature.” She smiled weakly, “Besides, last week Cole cast a spell on me trying to restore my memory and felt traces of something magical lurking in my mind too. I think it all adds to it, don’t you?”
He bit down the urge to snap at her. Of course it was mystical in nature. If it weren't, some of the things that it said wouldn't have been said, and it would not have shown up in a mental representation the way it did. Still it did convince him the doctors would never find a cure for it. Modern medicine insisted on treating the ill patient as matter in motion, ignoring the soul completely.
“When did you started to change?” he asked.
Alessa leaned back in her seat, frustrated at his not even looking at the papers. Well, at least he believed her, but he would if he had found about the mysterious virus himself.
“I’ve talked about that with Ellis too. He started to act strangely about a week after they brought me from Colombia.” She bit her lip, “I can't really know when I started to change, being that I don’t remember anything prior to that… However, sometimes I feel completely normal and others I find myself doing things I just wouldn’t… and it had been like this since I regained consciousness after the kidnapping, even when I was all feverish and sick.”
A week, he thought. Nikolai could think of two possibilities: she did not have as great a concentration of the virus, meaning that Ellis infected her. Or that her defences did more against it and she infected Ellis. If the latter... he stopped. Not until they could determine who the first of them infected was, and where and when, could they say with any certainty where this thing came from.
'Just notice the details...' She didn't know when she started change. No, he thought, it had to be some time after she returned from Columbia, or perhaps before, that she was infected. But then how did he get it? "I wonder how many others of us are infected," he said, thinking carefully. He smiled. "In any event, it seems to be in remission for me, though not a day goes by that it's not a fight to stay in control and just collapse at the thought of what I have done. I should probably get in touch with Jimmy to see if he's learned something new about the Council."
Alessa frowned, she hadn't thought of others being infected, but now that he mentioned it she wanted to slap herself. She had lived with Cole for a fortnight now and hadn't related things. “I think Cole has it too,” she mused, then looked up, “and the brain scans show the alteration. Regular medicine may not cure it, but it can detect it.”
Nikolai snorted at that. "I am a Xangyarj who has just completed his 'Finding'! I don't need the chicanery and balderdash that has masqueraded as medicine for the last century." Nikolai stopped for a moment, wondering where that outburst had come from.
Still there were other matters... "Alessa, I have something I should tell you. I... it's about your rescue. I have confirmed that the Watchers do have some kind of facility there."
Alessa’s temper flared at his outburst. “Well, forgive me, but not all of us have a Xanadú thing inside to help us through!”
She closed her eyes, and made a placating gesture with her hand, her anger receding with the speed it had arisen, as always. “Sorry, Nik. That’s exactly the kind of attitude I was talking about, but what I said stands the same. Xangyarji may not believe in human medicine, but I still think it’s a good method to detect other infected people.”
She smiled weakly, then she brightened, “I have some news on the Council too, that’s the other thing I wanted to tell you about.”
"That may be a pleasant change. Perhaps we can finally discover the truth of what Ambrose Delancre is up to here." Nikolai was no longer willing to give the first Elder a 'bye'. If his suspicions were right, the gaping question before him was still unanswered. Why was he here instead of in Colombia? "Though if it's what I suspect, Dmitri will not be happy."
“Dmitri? Whatever,” she shook her head and leaned over to go on, “A Watcher named Stuart Montrose contacted me about a week ago, he had found my name in some files and decided to call me. I double checked him, and he is indeed a Watcher and he’s in charge of the archives in London.”
She stopped and lowered her eyes, the pictures clear in her mind. She swallowed and went on. “What he told – and showed me – was rather strange… and distressing; but it fits with what I kinda remember, although it doesn’t answer all the questions, and raises some new ones.”
"Montrose? I'll have Jimmy run his name - if he owns stock in a certain company..." Nikolai trailed off at the thought that occurred to him. If Montrose owned stock in the company, what would he do? Probably just give Jimmy the go ahead to do whatever, and spend the rest of the night drinking like a fish. Still he could feel some distress from Alessa, and poured her another drink. "I'm sorry. What's wrong, Alessa? What did he tell you?"
Alessa accepted the drink gratefully and drank, albeit a little more carefully. The fiery liquor gave her strength, and she talked.
“He said some ‘renegades’ - yes, he stuck to the renegades line - well… that they are kidnapping demons to fight, some sort of demented sport. Apparently there were other reasons behind my capture too.” She whispered the last part, her eyes low. She couldn’t make herself tell him about the concubines part. The glass trembled in her hands and she gripped it strongly, as if it were a life raft.
Nikolai blinked, absorbing the information. He supposed it made sense, but, with the details he already had, it didn't seem to fit. "Alessa... are you sure that's accurate?" he asked. "The information I have is from one of these 'renegades'. They trained demons to fight there… but not for sport. Why would..?”
Her concern and confusion at the look on his face became evident. When he next spoke his voice was a low whisper. "They aren't renegades..." Alessa looked at him with a look of surprise at this sudden pronouncement. The thoughts finished setting in Nikolai's mind, and he spoke again.
"They aren't renegades! Alessa, they use the Colombia facility to train demons, and what does Tash tell us Ambrose Delancre is here in LA with but a demon army? I've been such a fool and should have seen it earlier! They're trying to create an army of demon soldiers. That would explain the disappearances and why Delancre is here rather than dealing with these so-called renegades."
“Stuart said they train them to fight each other, like in a Roman arena...” she said weakly, trying to hide the tears that had appeared in her eyes, but suddenly feeling hopeful Nik was right. She much rather preferred having been trained as a soldier than whore, and she didn’t think the Watchers as an organization preyed on female demons for sex. But then, what of the nude pictures?
"I'm sorry," he said at the feeling of her being upset. He knew that she was trying to hide it, and put on a brave face, but she wasn't practicing any mental shielding. Thinking about what that Watcher told her, he went over it in his mind, comparing it to what they already knew. "He's lying. He has to be."
“Perhaps…” she granted, thinking about the rest of the documents he’d shown her; they’d looked authentic enough, but they could have been forged and planted for him to find, too. She didn’t think Stuart was lying, not willingly, at least. “Or perhaps he’s being lied to.” Alessa bit her lip again, it seemed they weren’t very far from where they had begun.
She opened the second folder she had brought, with Stuart’s documents and pictures. “Here, this is what I’m talking about,” she said, flipping the pages until she got to her pictures – the ones that had survived. “This shows I was there. Inside it. But still doesn’t help on the owners of the facility part.”
This time Nikolai took the folder from her hands. He frowned as he skimmed page after page of photocopies. “This is too much to study now,” he said, finally, lifting his eyes. “Do you mind if I keep it a few days to investigate further?”
“Not at all. Keep them, I have copies anyway,” she said, grateful that he was taking her seriously at last. “Maybe you can find some proof there, something I’ve missed.”
"In my last conversation with my... guide, he said something, quoting himself in a way - don't worry about it," he added with a smile. "'Just notice the details. They're scattered like crumbs all over this table we regularly share.' What we need to do is consider what we know. Fact one," Nikolai held up a finger, "is that there is a facility in Colombia at which demons are being trained to fight. This was confirmed to me by a guard who came to Los Angeles from the facility itself.”
"Second," he continued steadily, watching Alessa's reactions, "is that this facility is owned by a company named Stevenson, and some stockholders have connections to the Council. Third, we know from Tash that Delancre arrived in LA with an army whose composition is primarily demons. Now, I ask you with a facility to train demons to fight in the one hand, and the First Elder of the Watchers' Council with an army of demons trained to fight in the other, what would you conclude?"
“The First Elder is behind all of this,” she answered, nodding.
Then she frowned, Stuart's words coming back to her ears. “We know something else too.” Nikolai’s raised eyebrow prompted her to go on. “He knows we are investigating them, or at least that I am, otherwise I wouldn’t have been contacted by Stuart Montrose with all that bullshit to confound me. What do you know about his army here in LA?” she asked suddenly, her mind coming with a sudden idea.
Nikolai thought for a moment, where had he put that file? He went over to his table, moving books and notebooks around until he found the folder that Tash had given him earlier. "Back before the White Hats broke up, Tash gave us the 'details' of the arrangement,” he said, smiling. "This folder contains some basic information, at least on the kinds of forces here. Not the location of where he's staying, though my people can find that out - fuck," he suddenly said, as her earlier words sunk in. That the Council could know someone was looking into them was definitely a possibility, especially if they were feeding false information.
"I have to get in touch with Dmitri - if they know you are on them, they should be able to find out where you work. I would in their position. That will lead you to me, and Dmitri Gromyoko is a personal friend - one of the dons of the Russian mafia. He has to know about this, we have a number of demons in the family, including some who are made. If the Council is destroying demons," he sighed at the thought of what would follow, "Dmitri will want to go to the mattresses, I'm sure."
*The mob,* somehow after meeting Jimmy the hand and some of the other people who frequented the Armoury, that didn’t came as a surprise, in fact it only confirmed things. She could understand the Don’s preoccupation if he had demons in his ranks. However, she didn’t think any faction would act against an organization like the Council based only on suppositions.
“Still we need proof, Nikolai. What if we meet Delancre, would you be able to spot a lie if you talked to him?”
Nikolai snorted. He wondered if they didn't have the proof that they already needed. All it would take was one Council-sanctioned hit on someone connected to the family and, with what they already had, he didn't doubt that Dmitri would go to war. Not after some of the jobs Nikolai did for him in the good old days. If Dmitri could survive life in the Soviet Union and life in organised crime as long as he had, he could survive fighting the Council. Nikolai just hoped they could find a way to take care of the problem without him; a lot of innocent people would probably be caught in the crossfire.
"No, I couldn't. I'm an empath, Alessa, not a telepath. I can sense emotion, and I've gotten good enough that I can sometimes sense the object of the emotion, and better at distinguishing between subtle differences. Do you have any idea how many different kinds of anger there are?"
“No,” she sighed, disillusioned. “That I wouldn’t know, but if a machine can detect lies… I thought an empath could too. In any case, wouldn’t it be useful to get into his stronghold?”
He sighed, then saw where she was going with this. He turned to face her and was perfectly frank. "However... before being employed by various criminal figures, I once worked for the Soviet Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti - the Committee of State Security. I've been trained in assassination and infiltration techniques."
Alessa smiled, a look of satisfaction in her face. “Oh, but you wouldn’t have to do anything of the sort, I’m sure Tash has free access to the installations.”
Nikolai blinked in confusion. "I doubt very much that Tash would help us without stricter proof than we currently have from the way she presented the deal to us."
“Well, she doesn’t have to know,” the demoness said, picturing Tash’s features and body clearly in her mind, and willing her own body to emulate her. Genes and cells were rearranged, changing tissue and bones at her command, and in but a minute she was a perfect replica of Tash. She smiled and leaned forward to close Nikolai’s mouth with a long black finger.
Nikolai jumped back about five feet, sending a lamp sprawling to the floor, and sending Tolstoy bolting rather quickly for the bedroom.
"You... you... you never told me you could do that!" he said suddenly breaking down into fits of hysterical laughter. It was too perfect, just... he stopped. "We should have something to hold your aura steady and shield your thoughts - good idea for me to have one as well. Just to make sure nobody can pick up on the deception."
Alessa just smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Well, a lady is entitled to her little secrets, don’t you think?” she joked, her voice too, a perfect copy of Tash’s. She didn’t tell him that she hadn't been able to do it, at least not this well, before the virus.
Then she nodded at his last words, “Indeed, some kind of shield could be necessary, they could have telepaths around. Besides physical aspect isn’t everything, either. I need to know how to act before him, and my way around the installations and such, to make a performance worthy of an Oscar. Anything below that could get us killed.”
Nikolai nodded in thought. She was right in many ways, although... "Speaking from experience, it's less important to know your way around a facility than to look like you know where you're going. I've had a couple of instances where that particular trick came in handy - but if you're going to impersonate Tash, we need to know how familiar she is, to get the right level," he added. "We should take my car as well. It has the armour of a G'rnathan Overseer, which means nobody will be shooting us dead."
She nodded, already planning things in her head, then she noticed a compression in her chest, and smiled, her clothes didn’t fit Tash’s bigger body. Letting go, she resumed her own form, and winked at Nikolai’s startled looks again. “I’ll need the right clothes too, and useful as your car might be, Tash usually rides her bike. I don’t want to do anything out of the ordinary.”
The demoness thought for a moment. “We should talk to Reah. You haven’t been around so you probably don’t know, but Tash took Reah to meet Delancre. She told me about it, and I believe she didn’t like him in the least. I think she’d help us, she saw how Tash acted around Delancre, and entered the place.” Alessa gave a little laugh, “Knowing Reah she might have it all recorded. What do you think?”
Nikolai smiled. Yes, there was a possibility that this could work. A way to infiltrate the heart of the First Elder's residence itself. "An excellent plan," he said, his smile growing broader. "Even better. We can simply make it clear who I 'work' for - Dmitri 'made' me a while ago, so he'll be able to verify that much well enough. That should give us at least some leverage to hope he'll be more open."
“Yes, that could help.” She rose, still smiling. At last they were going to do something, although it would need much work before actually doing it. The stakes were too high to take it lightly. “It could prove very useful, this adventure.”
Nikolai nodded. "I'll contact Kate as well, see if she can help us. Though we shouldn't involve anyone else unless we have to - the fewer people who know about this, the better."
“Kate could help us with the shielding part, yes, but I agree with you about not involving anybody else.” She thought about Ellis and wondered whether to tell him; he’d probably get crazy about the whole idea. With a final grin to Nikolai, she started to walk towards the door, excitement making her pace lighter. “Well, there’s lots to do and we better start doing it.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, 2nd May 2007 – 12:30pm
Right, this was it. Tash had spent a week assessing the possibilities, digging through her memories and trying to piece together a method that would work. Since she’d had the first inkling of the idea more than a week ago she’d ensured she went back as cleanup crew after every hunt. Then in many long hours at Poplar Avenue she’d scribbled note after note, trying to find a way to do this. And she had it.
Almost.
There was one small hitch – the ‘transfer’ of control to Delancre. Tash knew she could manage all the rest by ritual, but not that part. To achieve the transfer in the way she wanted required an actual sorcerer. And so she’d gone looking for a suitable candidate – discreetly. She stayed well away from Bob’s Bar, well away from her usual sources of information. It had taken her almost as long to find the person she needed as it had to determine she needed a mage.
But now she had not only found who she needed, she’d even arranged an appointment with him. She glanced up at the façade of the Peninsula Beverly Hills Hotel and strode in, following the directions she’d been given to a small conference room. The door was ajar and she pushed it open, spying a well-dressed man sitting within. Beside him stood a stunning young woman, bearing the unmistakeable aura of a demon, who Tash assumed must be the one who had made the appointment for her.
“Mr Dalton, I presume,” Tash nodded, “I am Natasha Brookes.”
Marcus smiled as Miss Brookes introduced herself. The whole move to Los Angeles was going amazingly well. There’d been some initial problems, Marcus would admit, especially with the local covens, but after that pretty much everything had fallen into place. He’d been contacted by at least one of the local organised crime groups, had met a couple of skilled witches who didn’t have a problem with his specialty and now the head of a local up and coming ‘charitable’ foundation with its fingers in some very suggestive pies had asked for a meeting. After the whole mess that Hong Kong had become it was downright refreshing.
“Miss Brookes, welcome. Please have a seat.” Marcus gestured to the chairs around the table. “My assistant said you had a proposal for me?”
Tash took the proffered seat with a smile, smoothing out her skirt and placing the folder she carried on the table. The woman – Onyx, Tash remembered from the phone call – closed the door softly while Tash answered Marcus in her best business manner.
“I have come to an impasse in a particular project of mine, and enquiries have revealed you to be the one man in Los Angeles who is best qualified to help me. Before I show you the details of my project, however, I would like to be certain that whatever transpires in this room will not spread beyond it.”
*Very interesting…* Still, that wasn’t the sort of request he would agree to without some caveats. “So long as what transpires doesn’t adversely affect my interests, now or in the future. Though even then I’m sure we can discuss it before it becomes critical.”
“Naturally. I don’t expect anything we discuss or agree to here should affect your interests but, as you say, I’m sure we will have opportunities to address any that might arise.” Tash sighed and opened her folder. “I’ll explain the scope of the problem and we can take it from there, perhaps.”
She pulled out several sheets of paper and placed them on the conference table, smoothing the creases out. On them were assorted symbols and notes, and Tash spun the stack so Marcus could read it. “I don’t know if you’re familiar with Ghanese symbols, but I have a key at the bottom there,” she pointed.
She sat back and watched Marcus peruse the document. It was as much a test of his capacity as it was a delineation of her problem. If Marcus were unable to decipher her intent from it, then he wasn’t the necromancer Tash had been led to believe he was. What she had come up with, she believed had likely never been attempted by someone without any magic ability at their disposal. She’d had to sift through all of Ohenewaa’s memories to find rituals that could replace all of the magic components of this endeavour, and had managed it in all but that one instance. The one hole that she hoped Marcus would fill for her.
Marcus raised an eyebrow at Natasha’s words. *Ghanese?* Marcus checked the key first, then began to spread the papers out over the desk. Onyx wordlessly handed him a pen and Marcus began writing notes on the various papers as he built a picture in his mind of what Miss Brookes was trying to do.
“There’s… there’s some very… unusual arrangements here.” Marcus flicked back to the key and then to the pages laid out before him. Unusual was an understatement, the juxtaposition of various elements was truly inspired and denoted a remarkable grasp of the whole subject of necromancy but the inspiration seemed to be solving a problem Marcus would have thought unnecessary.
Marcus took out the pen again and quickly went through the whole set of interconnected rituals. “Yes you could excise that…” he crossed through a ritual and drew a line linking it to another, “Replace that with an incantation…you don’t really need to…” Marcus circled another section “Useful for safety but not really…”
Marcus stopped. It didn’t make sense – not the what, he could see what she was trying to do – but how she was going about it was very strange. The whole thing was needlessly complicated, with whole sections seemingly designed to avoid the use of incantations even a neophyte should be able to use, and whoever had put this document together was no neophyte. He stopped himself from further amendments and sat back.
“Well Miss Brookes, I’m not sure why you need to speak to me. It’s quite obvious you’ve a thorough understanding of our particular specialty and while it’s not how I would go about doing things, it seems to be perfectly functional. Would you care to explain?”
Tash took a long breath. Marcus had neatly put his finger on the very crux of her problem. In a way, she was pleased he hadn’t realised she carried no magical potential of her own – it meant that her work to date must have been thorough. God knew she’d spent enough long hours putting it all together.
“Well, see here,” she pointed to the section he’d crossed out. “You say that a simple incantation would take care of that part, and you are quite correct. However, I desire to do as much of this myself as possible, and in order to perform such an incantation one requires the ability to use magic.”
She smiled wanly at him as she saw her inference sink in. “Yes, quite, Mr Dalton. If you’ll look at page six… there, you’ll see that section in red. That’s the one part where I could find no way to avoid the use of magic. Hence I came to see you.”
He glanced towards Onyx and when after a brief pause she nodded ever so slightly Marcus turned back to stare at Natasha. It was literally mind-boggling. The complexity of the process laid out before him demanded that Natasha had spent years learning her craft. It was not the work of an amateur, but to spend so much time studying something she could never use? It was like a physicist studying for a doctorate knowing they would never be allowed inside a particle accelerator. Still, necessity was the mother of invention and at least now he understood where her ingenuity had come from.
“If you’d care to give me a few moments.” Marcus picked up the pen and went back to the papers scattered before him. Quickly and efficiently he pulled the ritual together as a magic user would construct it.
“Onyx, I’ll need some more paper and bring down the computer too.” Only a tiny fraction of the Dalton library was on computer – finding someone both trustworthy and knowledgeable to oversee the transfer had proved difficult but at least he had a few texts with him.
While Onyx left the room Marcus looked back at Tash. “No doubt you’ve covered the matter thoroughly but a second opinion never harmed anyone.”
Tash nodded her agreement. Onyx returned a few minutes later and Marcus started again from scratch. His respect for Natasha’s abilities increased immediately. Working under the same constraints imposed difficulties he had never before appreciated and he could see no solution more elegant than Miss Brookes’ and no way around her essential problem.
“So…” Once more he looked up from his workings, “If there is a way to replace this…” he tapped the section in red, “it might take months, even years to discover. That isn’t what you wanted from me, is it?”
Tash shook her head and smiled. “No, it isn’t what I came for. Believe me, I spent many an hour trying to find a way around that particular Gordian Knot but if there is a solution it must be very obscure. My… database is quite extensive.”
Nodding to the section Marcus rested his pen upon, she said plainly, “What I need is for someone to either go through the entire ritual with me, ready to step in and perform that incantation when it becomes necessary…” At Marcus’ look she smiled, “Which would be very onerous. The alternative is for you to find some way of enabling me to do it myself by use of a delayed spell, or a triggered item, or something of that nature.”
*Onerous indeed.* Marcus took one more look at Natasha’s ritual and shook his head. “I think a triggered item of some description is more suitable. And even that is going to be complicated.” Marcus sat down, motioned for Tash to follow suit then pulled the laptop to him. Running through his memory Marcus quickly realised he would have to weave a second spell through the first and that ‘onerous’ though it would be he would have to be present at least for the first casting of the spell.
He blinked then. “I’m sorry, no doubt you have a particular solution in mind already,” reminding himself he must not forget Miss Brookes wasn’t an amateur despite her inability to use her knowledge. “Feel free to share your thoughts on the matter.”
Sifting through the reams of knowledge, memories and learning that Ohenewaa had ‘bestowed’ upon her over two years ago, Tash tried to find some specific reference to the use of such an item. Ohenewaa’s familiar, the snake Marali, had been a conduit similar to that Tash wished to use now, but the focus was wrong. Marali had channelled energy to its mistress, Ohenewaa. Tash needed a replacement for a spell that would divert control away from her and confer it onto someone else. The circumstance was so unusual that no matter how hard she’d tried, there had been no way to contrive a ritual to replace the simple spell that could have achieved that end.
Digging deeper, she delved into Ohenewaa’s earliest memories, those when she was a young girl herself, well before she’d perfected her life-prolonging magic, and before she was terribly powerful. Her first acolyte… yes, teaching her first acolyte, Johari. Tash smiled. The word meant ‘jewel’. And that was precisely what Ohenewaa had used. A jewel. She sought to contain the elusive memory, of Ohenewaa teaching Johari to raise her first zombie. Only recently a novice herself, Ohenewaa hadn’t wanted Johari to retain control, but knew she would be taxed to her personal limits with other spells at the time. So she’d crafted something…
“Uramali ulinzisihia,” Tash said, then laughed softly in embarrassment and covered her mouth with her hand when Marcus gave her an odd look.
“I’m sorry, I was thinking in Ghanese again,” she said, “but it’s an item I’ve encountered in my researches that might give you a good starting place. A jewel – a gemstone – that was imbued with the essence of the person to whom control should be passed.” Tash hoped that the blood Ohenewaa had used could be replaced by the substance she’d found far easier to obtain from Delancre.
Continuing with her explanation, she said, “The practitioner cast her spells over the gemstone, which could then be used to transfer control of the raised being to the desired person. However, I wish to create a variant whereby control can be returned to me via a certain signal. It seems to me that you will require something of mine as well, to bind into the item so that I do that.”
She looked up at Marcus hopefully, “If the rumours I’ve heard about you are true, then I trust you’ll have the power to perform this enchantment. And,” she paused, reluctant to reveal too much, but if this man was to help her he had to know what she expected of him, “and I need the item to be capable of performing equally well for multiple uses.” The smile she bestowed upon him was dazzling, “I assure you, I am capable of compensating you generously for a job well done.”
“I’m sure we can discuss something suitable. The Foundation has made some interesting sales recently.” The name of Natasha’s sources would quite possibly be payment enough. “And yes a gemstone of the type you suggest is certainly possible. Well, it’s complicated but well within reach. I’ll need to work through the details. That will take several hours. You’ll need to make your preparations for the actual ritual as well.”
“I believe I can supply several gemstones for you to choose the one best suited. I’ll have them couriered to you.” Tash smiled, “And I’m already quite prepared for this ritual.”
She dug into folder and drew out a small envelope. Breaking the seal, she held the flap open to show Marcus the contents. As he peered inside he noticed a collection of individual hairs, some with the roots still attached. “Whatever our solution turned out to be, I thought these might be necessary. These are from the person who will have control transferred to him. What of mine do you require to bind my essence to this gem as well? Is hair sufficient or would blood be easier?” Tash knew it was a risk giving a necromancer a sample of her hair, let alone her blood, but she found herself in the unenviable position of being almost entirely dependent upon this one man to fulfil a crucial role in her plans.
“A few hairs would be sufficient but blood I think would be better. It will make for a stronger link, thus making your ‘override’ more potent. As for the gem, a blue sapphire would be fine but please make sure it hasn’t been heat treated.” Marcus was already moving through the details as he spoke. A couple of hours would give him plenty of time to make sure his spell would work. “Do you have a particular location in mind?”
Nodding, Tash murmured, “Blue sapphire…” She looked up confidently, “Yes, that should be no problem. If my blood is best, then that’s fine. But, location..?” Pausing, Tash wondered why he’d need to know. If all she was doing was collecting the item then going on to perform her rituals… Ah, of course, she realised belatedly – Marcus would have to be there during her ritual in order to properly activate the gem for the first use.
“Sorry, yes, I see. But at least you won’t have to participate in the ritual itself – unless of course you wish to,” she grinned, “in order to appreciate how easy such things are when you have magic at your disposal.”
“I’m well aware of the limitations of non-magicians, Miss Brookes,” Marcus replied tightly. “When and where would you like to do this?”
Ignoring the sudden flare of temper at Marcus’ apparent dismissal of her abilities, Tash concentrated on the task at hand. “Well, I’ve been using a single location for storage. Are you familiar with the Hollywood Hills area at all? There’s a patch of wilderness up there called Runyon Canyon Park. I think it’ll be ideal. Shall we say… nine o’clock? That should give you plenty of time to prepare.”
She sat back and crossed her legs, regaining her businesslike poise. “However, before we agree to meet there, I believe we should discuss the price. You now have all the parameters of the task – what is your asking rate?”
“Well, cash isn’t really an issue for me, and though I’m sure your organisation has any number of trinkets that might interest me, I really have to say there’s only one thing I would want from you.”
Though she’d known about Marcus’ wealth, she hoped that she could offer something of interest from the Foundation’s collection of rare and wondrous artefacts. However, the man seemed set on something else. She’d refrained from letting her powers loose from their tightly held state, worried at offending the necromancer. But she let that control ease a fraction now just to get a foretaste of what he might be about to ask her. Curiosity. That’s what she sensed. Curiosity and desire – but not desire for her. It was for something she possessed.
“Very well,” she said evenly. “And what would that one thing be?”
"Access to your library."
“Ah.”
“Not unlimited access. But no doubt it holds some interesting volumes I’ve not come across before. The quality of your education and the languages you use would suggest it has some unique texts. Say, a week?”
Tash coughed lightly. “Uh, well, that’s not so much the issue.” She sighed, “I guess I’d better explain.”
She held up her gloved hands. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the phenomenon of psychometry. When I touch objects, I receive visions of the last people to hold that object, or something important that happened in relation to it.”
Marcus nodded, unsure yet quite where this was heading, but he had nowhere else to be this afternoon. “Yes, I’ve heard of it. And?”
“And so when I touch people I tend to get very powerful visions, sometimes whole chunks of events in their lives. I…” Taking a deep breath, Tash plunged on, “A couple of years ago I had a run-in with an old vodoun priestess. Very old. She was nearly 600; she’d used her magic to rejuvenate herself from time to time. The circumstances are too complicated to go into, but she was mortally wounded and I wasn’t wearing my gloves. Her last act was to grab my hands and she kind of… pushed her whole life into me.”
Shaking her head, Tash went on, “Now I have the life experience of a 600-year-old vodoun priestess in my head – but lacking the magical ability to use it the way she used it. I can, however,” she waved at the papers still scattered on the table, “find alternatives for most things.”
“That makes things more difficult. To be honest however, such knowledge is far more interesting to me than wealth or any objects you might have. Surely we can come to some arrangement – perhaps a weekly discussion on a topic of interest to me.”
With barely a moment’s hesitation, Tash nodded, “That would be workable. In fact, I’d be prepared to give you a down payment right now, but I need to send the gem to you and allow you time to prepare for this spell. Perhaps after you’ve watched me perform the ritual tonight I can go through anything that might have piqued your interest.”
a distraught daye turns to marcus for help
*** Wednesday, May 2, 2007, 4 pm ***
*** The Peninsula Beverly Hills Hotel ***
Daye stumbled out of the elevator and down the empty hall of the upscale hotel. She was amazed that no one had tried to waylay her on her way up. Not that it was the first time she'd visited Marcus at his hotel, but on each of the other occasions she had appeared less disheveled, to say the least. She hadn't really thought about her appearance, though, when she'd made the decision to come here. She'd only been seeking some quiet, some kind of respite from the torment that Cole's visit had created. It wasn't as if she was really thinking clearly, but rather that she'd made her way to the Peninsula Beverly Hills Hotel out of desperation really. Her mothers were quite out of control and Daye herself was all but done in. She could hardly manage a coherent thought above their shouts. It was a miracle she'd made it this far.
Unaware of the soft moaning noise she kept repeating every few minutes, Daye stopped at the door of Marcus' room and rapped sharply on it.
It was not however Marcus’ door that opened to Daye’s knock, but Onyx’s. The demon looked at the witch and managed to stifle a smile. Amanda had finally dropped her glamour and her true, tired and worn appearance was displayed for all to see.
“Miss Blaise, is there something I can help you with?”
Daye grimaced. She'd obviously forgotten about Marcus' assistant, although she should have realized the woman would be the one to answer the door.
Daye sighed. She was too tired to deal with Onyx's smug superiority. "I need to see Marcus... please," Daye said softly. Her voice sounded strained.
Onyx made a careful perusal of Amanda. This wasn’t the same woman Marcus had bedded. Her power had all but deserted her, and along with it her fragile composure. She would be, Onyx realized, a salutary lesson to Marcus on the dangers of certain lapses.
“Of course.” Onyx took out a key card and passed it though the lock of Marcus’ room before slipping within. There was a soft conversation and then Onyx returned. “He’s in his office, Amanda. You know the way,” the demon said before walking back to her own room.
Daye was surprised that it had been so easy to get in to see Marcus. She was aware that the glamour she'd strived so hard to maintain was gone, and she wondered for a moment why Onyx would allow her to see Marcus when she was obviously this distraught. It had struck her from the beginning that the woman was not simply an obedient servant, but she supposed it was a bad time to try and figure out someone else’s mind right now. She was having enough trouble with her own.
Daye moved out of the hallway and into Marcus’ room, hurrying into his office. She stopped just inside the doorway. He was busy working on something. She could see that. Maybe now was the wrong time to interrupt him. Maybe she had made a mistake coming here. She and Marcus didn't have anything real between them, just business and sex. So what if she felt a connection? That didn't mean he had to as well.
Daye stood uncertainly in the doorway. "Marcus..." she stumbled over her words. "I... you're busy... I don't want to intrude... maybe..."
Marcus looked up from his papers and stopped, his face a picture of shock. Amanda looked careworn, beaten down by pain and fatigue, quite unlike the vibrant young woman he had spent the last week or so dealing with.
“No, Amanda, please come in. Sit down.” He gestured disparagingly towards his desk. “I’m just being overly thorough.” He watched Amanda settle into a high back leather chair with a sigh. “God, what have you been doing? You look awful. This is the cleansing, isn’t it? You should have said something.”
Daye was relieved that Marcus was being so nice about this. She appreciated his concern as well. But how could she explain this to him? She didn't understand it at all. She just knew that the moment he'd spoken, both Erin and Mariah had quieted suddenly. Her relief was so great that she sighed.
"No, it’s not the cleansing," Daye waved a dismissive hand in the air. "That's been going fine. I... it's well within my power... or it should be. There's... there's something else. I don't know how to... I'm not sure I can explain."
Marcus poured a glass of water; he didn’t think alcohol would be a good idea considering how Amanda looked. He walked over and handed her the glass, then settled down in the chair opposite.
Leaning forward her gave her a pleasant half smile. “Tell me. Just start at the beginning.”
"The beginning," Daye repeated, laughing softly. "Where is the beginning, I wonder? With Mariah... somewhere lost in the dark recesses of history? Or buried with Atlantis beneath the waves? Atlantis... I've never seen it, but Sam did... Mariah took him there once... or more than once... I can't quite recall. He told me, I think. I can't quite recall. That was at home..."
Daye's voice broke a bit on the last word. "Home..." she sighed. "I wish... it doesn't matter does it. Mother - Erin, my real mother - she's always on me to go home, but she told me to leave. She warned me I'd hurt someone, and I did... I hurt... Kate… my sister... my best friend. I don't know why. It's as if I’m me, but someone else too... or..."
Daye shook her head, almost as if she was trying to shake herself back to coherence. "That's not what you want to know, right? You asked me to tell you... something... about Mariah... She's my mother too... and Sam's."
Daye laughed weakly. "I have two mothers... How can that be? It doesn't make sense. None of it makes any sense. And they never stop... they always are yelling at me, at each other. It's so loud all the time. Except now... They only stop when I'm with you. That's why I came... to get them to stop, just for a little while. So I could think. I have to know what to do, I have to think. But Cole came and he said things and he was angry and they shouted. I couldn't think... until I was with you."
Daye looked at Marcus, her eyes shone with unshed tears, but she was smiling gratefully at the same time.
*Ok, let’s take a breath here.” Marcus reviewed what Amanda had said. He discarded Atlantis almost at once, for while there was probably some truth to the various legends and stories, he was more inclined to believe it was Santorini than a mythical island in the middle of the Atlantic.
‘Sam’, ‘Mariah’ and ‘Erin’ were names he didn’t recall but then Amanda was almost as guarded about herself as Marcus was. Erin and Mariah talked to Amanda it seemed, except when he was around, and Sam was related to Mariah. Marcus looked at Daye for a second and thought that maybe Onyx had been right. The magics seemed to have unhinged Amanda’s mind. He didn’t know much about her background but maybe she had had a stepmother, either Erin or Mariah. Sam must be related to her somehow, full brother or step he wasn’t sure which.
It was an elegant theory. Daye had had a psychotic break due to stress and abusing her powers and her difficult family background had overwhelmed her fragile mind. It even made some sense except for two things... ‘Cole’ and ‘Kate’.
It couldn’t be a coincidence. She had a friend called Kate and Cole had ‘said’ things. No, there was more to this than his neat little summation.
“Amanda, slow down. The voices aren’t talking to you now, are they?”
Daye laughed softly. "No... it's so quiet now. It's always quiet when I'm with you. I think they're not sure what it means, you and I. It confuses them. And apparently confusion is good, but I'm confused all the time now. I... feel so different. I think, maybe, there's something really wrong with me, you know. I keep doing things... and then somehow I think those are things I don't want to do. Erin says I'm sick. Do you think maybe she's right? Could I be sick? Is that why I did that to Kate?
"And maybe, maybe Cole is sick too, maybe I... Oh, I just don't know. I just don't want to be out of control any more. If I could get things on track, I could go home. I want to go home. I want to be with Drew... and Maia."
At the mention of her daughter's name, Daye looked suddenly desolate. "I want to go home to Maia. She's just a baby. She needs me. Babies need their mothers, don't they?"
Marcus blinked in shock. *A daughter?* He shook his head and concentrated on Amanda. He needed to get her to stop rambling, otherwise this could take forever. “Amanda, listen to me. I want you to just stop for a second.” Marcus slipped off his chair and chair and crossed the space in between to take hold of Amanda’s hands. “Close your eyes for me. Then take a deep breath and hold it.”
She followed his directions and, unseen by her, he smiled. “Ok, I want you to relax now and just let out that breath.” Her breath ruffled Marcus’ hair for a moment. “Now take another breath. Don’t think about anything but breathing… That’s it, relax, and out… In… Out…” Marcus let her breathe like that for a minute.
“Now open your eyes and tell me what’s happened.”
Daye felt much better when she opened her eyes again. Marcus was kneeling in front of her, smiling gently at her. She could feel the tension ease as he held her hands in his. Daye was surprised by how reassuring the contact was.
"Right, sorry," she said, blushing. "I... I must seem so completely crackers about now. I'm really sorry."
Daye smiled nervously, glancing down at their linked hands. "I'm not sure exactly where to begin. I guess I should just explain why I came to you. In complete and comprehensible sentences this time, I promise."
Daye took a deep breath. "You see, I've been plagued by the voices of my dead mother and an ancient Atlantean goddess who in a way is my mother as well."
Daye paused, sighing in relief. "There now... when I put it like that..." Her smile faded to a disgusted grimace, "It sounds completely insane."
“Yes, but so far they haven’t made a movie about your childhood.” At Amanda’s curious look Marcus smiled and whispered, “I see dead people.”
Daye laughed. "Yeah, well, I'm just getting started. Ok, so my mom, Erin, that's my real mom... she was a witch too, you know. She taught me a lot about magic, but she died when I was only fourteen. She left me all alone, and then this guy Ambrose Delancre came to Ireland and rescued me from a lonely life in that cottage. He took me to a beautiful estate owned by the Watchers' Council. I finished growing up there and on a similar estate in England. When I left England I came here, to Los Angeles. I found out through the course of certain events that there was this prophecy written concerning me. And as it turns out, the prophecy was true. My family has been entrusted with guarding a realm that holds an ancient goddess, Mother Mariah, imprisoned. Last year, I actively took on the role of guardian after she had me impregnated with a child which Mariah meant to use as a vessel to bring her soul back into our world."
Daye paused, looking pensive. "For the last few months, I've been feeling... strange. I moved out of the house I shared with my fiancé, Drew, my brother Sam, who is not related to me by blood, and the child Mariah created, a little girl named Maia, who for all intents and purposes is my daughter. She's not even two years old, and she's prophesied to somehow save the world one day."
Daye looked up at Marcus, trying to judge his reaction to her words. "About a month or so ago, Mariah and Erin began to speak to me. At first I could kind of control it, but now they're always in my head telling me what to do. The only time I seem to be able to find any peace is when I'm with you. And that's why I came. Cole was at my apartment earlier. We had scheduled a lesson, but he was... distressing... and something he said set them off. I couldn't get control of myself for hours. I just was looking for a few minutes of quiet."
The pertinent details of Amanda’s comments rolled through Marcus’ mind. *Fiancé… Daughter.*
For a moment he just was filled with horror. Amanda was involved with someone else. She had agreed to marry another man. She even had a daughter. Pushing aside a sudden sense of nausea - he hadn’t known, he told himself - Marcus tried to focus on the woman in front of him.
“Ok Amanda, I hope you don’t mind but I did some checking before our first piece of business. You’ve not been contracting out your magic much longer than that have you?”
Daye shook her head wearily. She was so tired. And this was just a band aid fix. She couldn't attach herself to Marcus' hip for the rest of her life. Besides, she didn't want to be dependent on him or anyone else.
"No, I just decided to do that. It was really recently, actually," Daye's eyes widened in surprise. "Funny, that's about the time things started going wonky. I moved away from the house and left my family right after I opened shop. Before that... I ran a bookshop, actually." There was a wistful tone in her voice at the mention of The Bibliophile.
Marcus tried not to let his momentary relief show on his face. Amanda had left her ‘family’ behind. It still wasn’t particularly good in his opinion, but it was better than what he’d been thinking.
“So you’ve been hearing these voices for about a month and when you spoke with Cole Matthews this morning they became too much? What did he say to you?” Marcus casually let his hands drop from hers as he spoke.
Daye paused. She didn't want to tell him that. She didn't want to talk about what he was doing with Kate. It was none of her business really. They had no commitments between them. Marcus was probably very unhappy that she'd shown up at his door like this.
"He..." Daye stood up abruptly, skirting Marcus where he knelt. "I'm sorry, maybe I should just go. This isn't your problem. I shouldn't have come here."
Daye started for the door.
Marcus reached out and wrapped his hand around her painfully thin wrist. “You came to me for help. Have I done anything to suggest I’m not willing to do so?” She looked at him and Marcus carried on, “Let me help you.”
"Right, okay then..." Daye took a deep fortifying breath. "Try not to read anything into this, okay? Cause I'm not under any misconceptions about our relationship. And even though you probably think Mariah and Erin are just constructs of my apparently splintered mind, I don't actually control what they think."
After the explanation, Daye grimaced. "Cole... Cole Matthews, he's a boy I was acquainted with before all this started, and I... When I began on this magical path, I took him on as an apprentice. As I said, I wasn't exactly thinking clearly at that point. He's just a kid, and I didn't know enough about black magic to be teaching anyone. Now, white magic I could, and have on occasion, but not this stuff."
Daye paused. "And this is just a tangent I'm using to avoid answering your question again. So, Cole came to my place yesterday for a lesson, right? He was late and when he got there I had been meditating to prepare. That's how I've handled it lately, by meditating to shore up my mental defenses. It's harder to maintain those shields when I'm using my magic, and Cole was... he was, I don't know... angry and rude. I lost my temper and when I confronted him, I could sense that he'd been up to something. He told me he had been with you and Kate the night before. It doesn't matter to me... Kate is... was my best friend. I screwed that up royally. But that's another embarrassing story for another time."
Daye drew in a deep breath, unwilling to meet Marcus' gaze. "It's just that when Cole mentioned your name, Erin and Mariah started in again. They were arguing with each other and trying to tell me what to do... and I... I just couldn't get them to stop. I just... I had no control."
Daye could feel the desperate tears building behind her eyes. She hated herself for this terrible weakness.
Marcus hid his puzzlement. What misconceptions could there be about their relationship? They were colleagues and had been lovers, both of which entitled Amanda to at least ask for help and it cost him little to do so. Why then did she think he’d refuse her?
As for Cole, he had wondered where the boy had received his tuition and it explained much. Amanda was too new at this to be taking on an apprentice, especially considering her current troubles. Cole’s arrogance would lead him into trouble and apparently he’d already mentioned his dealings with Kate to Daye. He wondered about that. Was Daye one of the friends Kate said had turned their back on her?
Marcus didn’t owe Amanda an explanation of his dealings with Kate. Nevertheless, he gave her one.
“Kate Eldridge and I had a business arrangement regarding the resurrection of her dead daughter. Mr. Matthews interfered in that ritual and cost Kate any chance of success. I left any punishment for that in Kate’s hands, but perhaps I should have dealt with it myself.”
Marcus moved smoothly to his feet and looked at Amanda’s worn and tired appearance. “You say the voices are quiet when I’m here? You look worn out. I’ll order some room service. I think you’ve been skipping meals as well as sleep.”
Daye felt a secret thrill at his words about Kate. It shouldn't have mattered to her what relationship he had with her friend, but for some reason it did. Daye didn't want to examine that too closely. She had no business developing feelings for this man, certainly not at this time when her life was such a terrible mess. He didn't deserve to be burdened with her and her troubles. She really should have just left, but the thought of a few hours respite, of a chance to actually eat a peaceful meal... Well, that was just too tempting to pass up.
"All right," Daye replied. "I'd like that... And thank you so much, it's very kind of you. I'm not sure I deserve that kindness, but I do appreciate it very much."
“It’s the least I can do.” Marcus crossed the room back to his desk and picked up the phone. He ordered salad, cheese, crackers and some fruit, well aware of Amanda’s dietary preferences. Hanging up the phone he walked back to Amanda and offered his hands. “Come on, there are far more comfortable places in here than that chair.”
Daye took Marcus’ hands, rising to her feet. She felt unbelievably grateful to him and totally indebted. Without considering the consequences, Daye raised one of her hands to cup his cheek and leaned forward to gently brush her lips across his. "Thank you," she said simply, waiting to follow him out of the room.
He led her through to the lounge area, with its soft sofas and low table and Daye had just settled along one such couch when there was a knock on the door. A few minutes later, Marcus glanced at Amanda’s expression as she took in the variety and amount of food on the table in front of her. He sank into the chair opposite and grinned. “I don’t expect you to eat all of it but you look worn out. Food and a fair amount of it, as well as rest, is the best medicine for exhaustion. So I’d like you to make a sizeable dent in all that.”
Nodding obediently, Daye began to fill a plate. "All right. You're right, of course," she said.
Daye began to eat. She was surprised at how hungry she really was. Without the constant strain of trying to keep her mind together, she had the chance to notice the demands of her body.
"I hope I'm not keeping you from anything important," Daye said after a few minutes of silence while she ate. "You don't have to stay... I mean, I don't want you to feel obligated..."
“Nonsense. I do have a client this evening but it will only take a few hours. That isn’t till after sunset though, so I can keep the voices silent for a few hours yet. For that matter it shouldn’t take too long. I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.”
Daye smiled gratefully at him once again. "Okay... I really appreciate it," she said, setting her plate down. She'd eaten all she could, and suddenly she felt quite sleepy. Daye stifled a yawn, wanting nothing more than to curl up on the soft sofa and let her eyes drift closed. She felt guilty about it though.
"I... I'm sorry to have burdened you with all this, Marcus," Daye said. "I promise I'll make it up to you, somehow."
Marcus cleared away the plates and other detritus of Amanda’s meal. “Shhh, just rest. It’s okay to sleep,” he said as he brushed her hair away from her face.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, 2nd May 2007 - 8:55pm
Runyon Canyon Park
Tash stood on the rim of the depression and stared around at the preparations she’d made, unwilling to risk rushing too much and forgetting something vital, especially since her afternoon had been extremely busy. Her first stop after leaving the necromancer had been to the bank where she’d inspected the gems held in her safety deposit box. Selecting half a dozen of the finest deep blue sapphires, she’d had them couriered directly to Mr Dalton. Then had come the endless rounds of telephone calls to confirm the delivery time and place of the cargo she’d had on standby for three days now. Finally, she’d spent the rest of the day purifying herself in readiness for the ritual. After all, this wasn’t to be just any old raising.
But all seemed to be in place. Her hand-carved wooden bowl sat on the ground beside the bone-handled knife. The knife was an item she’d found in the inventory of the Foundation and a quick reading of it had confirmed that it had been used for such ceremonies before, making it the perfect instrument for tonight. She’d cleared the camouflaging foliage away from the fresh graves she’d been digging up here for the past week and had already dug the shallow trench around the burial site.
Every time a demon had fallen since she’d first formulated this idea, she’d taken the body and buried it here in readiness. She’d chosen this place because six bodies were already lying in shallow graves from that first night she’d gone out hunting with Ana and her pack. Tash smiled at the memory. Yes, she would get some worthy soldiers tonight. It was just such a pity that the Ghosts had taken their own fallen away with them - she could have used them as well.
Continuing her survey, she turned her head and inspect the night’s sacrifices. They were tied to nearby trees, already looking nervous and jittery. They didn’t know what to expect, of course, but instinct told them that it wasn’t likely to be good. “I promise to make it quick,” Tash whispered, too softly for them to hear.
Tilting her head back she breathed in the night air; it was sweeter up here in the hills and amidst the greenery than it was in the city below. The full moon glinted in highlights off her ebony skin, and when she grinned her teeth flashed white in the night. Exhaling sharply, she began to disrobe, shedding her garments like she was shedding a second skin. With a graceful move she swept up a bottle from the ground at her feet and began massaging the contents into her body, rubbing it over her long, lean muscles in languorous strokes. The oil was scented and had been mixed with ash, so it gave her body an even darker hue that glistened in the moonlight with an almost hypnotic sheen.
Done with her preparations she stood straight and tall, gazing at the cleared circle below her. Without turning her head she spoke, finally acknowledging the presence she’d felt there for some minutes.
“Thank you for joining me, Mr Dalton.”
Marcus glanced around the depression, taking in the bleating animals tied just outside the circle. A quick count of the shallow graves surprised him. Tash it seemed was nothing if ambitious. Finally he rested his gaze on the faintly glistening naked form of Miss Brookes. He didn’t frown but was at least a little surprised. The specific energies she was seeking to raise were universal but the means by which it was done varied from practitioner to practitioner. West African traditions were obviously more earthy than those he would use.
“Hello, Miss Brookes.” Marcus spilled out a gemstone into his palm. In complete contrast to the ritual preparations before him, he needed nothing else. “The others weren’t suitable I’m afraid, but this one should do well enough.”
“Good,” Tash nodded and turned finally to regard Marcus. Her eyes were already looking a trifle glazed as she maintained her inner focus, drawing all her energies into concentration on the upcoming ceremony. “It might be best if you took my blood for your stone now. Once I’m underway I’d like to keep distractions to a minimum.”
“Of course. Onyx…” Marcus’ aide moved forward and handed him a small blade. He walked down the hill to where Tash stood unselfconsciously. “A few drops are all that’s necessary.”
Taking the knife hilt first, Tash swiftly slashed it across her inner left forearm, making a short, shallow cut that oozed slowly. She turned her arm to face palm down and held it out, squeezing her hand into a fist so the blood began to drip onto the sapphire that Marcus held beneath. When he nodded that he had enough Tash flexed her arm towards her body and lifted it to her face, where she ran her tongue along the cut, tasting the blood and oil mixed together. She handed his knife back to him with a smile and returned her attention to her own business, assured that Marcus would take care of his own.
Marcus rubbed the blood into the surface of the gem, whispering an incantation under his breath. Slowly the corundum of the sapphire changed hue, passing through a stained purple colour until Marcus held not a sapphire but a ruby.
Facing away from him, Tash lifted her arms high into the air and began to chant the words she remembered Ohenewaa using so many times before, thumping the earth with her bare feet as she began the sinuous moves of her dance. The ritual for raising the dead could be longer or shorter, but since she was attempting to raise so many at once, and since their condition was important to her, she used the most detailed, thorough ceremony that she knew of. So instead of simply performing the sacrifice and saying the final words, she prefaced it with one of the vodoun priestess’ most powerful dances.
It was as she completed the third circuit around the graves that she untied one of the beasts that were now beginning to sound panicked. Gathering up the large wooden bowl and the ritual knife, she made a shallow slice in the creature’s shoulder, causing it to emit a loud snort even as she gathered the blood that dripped from its veins. More and more cuts followed the first, until the animal was barely able to stand on its feet. Before it collapsed, Tash plunged the knife deep into the long, woolly neck and sliced across its throat, letting the rich red blood gush into her bowl and over her hands and arms.
Stepping heedlessly over the corpse, she proceeded to the next creature, performing the same series of cuts and slashes on the second sacrifice amidst the now terrified animals. But Tash had tied them tightly, and no matter how they struggled to run from the scent of fresh blood they couldn’t break free. Soon there were five carcases lying on the ground, the earth turning black with the blood that seeped into it.
It was not enough, but her bowl was full so Tash carefully traced the circular trench she’d dug and tipped the crimson liquid into it as she walked the perimeter. The words came to her easily and she chanted as she moved:
Chukua madhabuha, kushirabu ya damu ya kafara, kama weye fufuka. Ni shupaza na ake maisha.
The last drops of blood fell from the rim of the bowl and the circle was barely one quarter complete, but already Tash could feel the power building. The fine hairs on the back of her neck rose as the energy she was channelling grew in strength, and she returned to the letting of blood from her chosen victims.Kushirabu ya ake kifo kama weye aishi tena.
Pindi duara ni kamili, weye aishi.
Sikia angu maneno, na sikiza miye kama mwnu malkia.
Fanywa angu amrisha.1
Each time she filled her bowl and completed more of the circle, the force built. Nothing existed for Tash but the smell of the blood and the sensation of electricity that raced through her body. Faintly in the back of her mind she understood why Ohenewaa had loved to perform these sorts of rites – the feeling was magnetic, stimulating… quite sexual.
Uncaring that she performed before two silent witnesses, she brought her fourth and final bowl to the graves, chanting her words again as she poured the blood slowly into the ground. She felt it when the last drops of life-giving fluid joined the first she’d laid down, as the earth beneath her feet trembled. A fresh surge of power jolted through her and she gasped in pure pleasure. A little of the blood remained and she tipped the bowl towards herself, letting the contents run in red rivulets down her breasts and belly.
Then the earth before her began to shake and shift, and slowly, one by one, the forms of the demons that had fallen in battle over the past weeks rose from their shallow tombs. Tash smiled as they rose and repeated her final words.
Sikia angu maneno, na sikiza miye kama mwnu malkia. Fanywa angu amrisha.
As one, the demons turned to face Tash and tried to reach for her, but the energies of the circle held them back. Fearless, Tash stepped over the boundary and held her arms out wide, repeating in English, “Drink of the blood of the sacrifice.”The nearest demon grabbed her wrist and began to lick the blood from it. Then the rest of her newly created zombie army gathered around her and took the rich liquid into themselves, while Tash threw back her head in ecstasy as she felt their tongues rasping across the naked flesh of her arms and body. “I am your mistress; you will obey me,” she exulted.
As the last drop of sacrificial blood was cleaned from her body she twisted her head over her shoulder to look at Marcus.
Marcus stepped down towards the circle and in the process raised the sparkling ruby he held above his head. As his magic rushed outward to penetrate Natasha’s circle his eyes turned a deep black. Marcus picked out the threads of power that connected Natasha to the zombies and infused his own power into them.
In one long withdrawal he pulled the threads out of Tash, “I take thee.”
Marcus pushed the links into the gem, “I bind thee.”
The links snapped inwards and wove themselves through the structure of the crystal. Marcus fed power to the gem and raised the link to Delancre.
“He whose essence lies within,
Binds you to this world
His words. Your Law.”
Marcus plucked at the echo of the threads that remained between the undead and Natasha.
“Your Mistress yet remains,
Source of all you are
Cleave to her when all else is gone.”
Stepping out of the circle, Tash fought to bring her breathing under control. She felt as though she’d raced a marathon, while at the same time she tingled with the residual energies that strummed through her body. The zombie demons milled uncertainly in a group behind her and Tash tried out a command on them. “Sit!” she ordered. They remained standing, staring blankly ahead.
She smiled as she held out her hand for the ruby-red gem that Marcus still held. “Thank you Marcus,” she said huskily, “That seems to have worked perfectly. Until Delancre gives them their first order they should be as docile as sheep.”
She ran a hand through her hair and shivered in delight at what she’d managed to achieve. “And now,” she addressed her accomplice, “about that initial payment we spoke of. Do you have any questions for me about tonight’s ritual?”
Marcus looked at Natasha, where oil, blood, sweat and saliva mixed on her skin. He took in her dilated pupils and shook his head. “Most of the details about tonight I already knew from your description this afternoon. As for the specific ritual steps, they’re not known to me but I should be able to tease them out myself. Still, I do have one question.”
Marcus looked to the corpses of her sacrifice. “Llamas?”
Tash’s laughter tinkled out merrily, quite at odds with their macabre surroundings. “I suppose they aren’t exactly traditional, are they?” she said, glancing at the twenty dead llamas strewn about the hillside. “But they’re larger than goats or chickens and because they’re designed for high altitude, llamas have the highest red cell count by volume of blood than any other animal – including humans. It makes them a fairly potent sacrifice,” she smiled.
Running her hands over her body, smeared with oil, ash and the vestiges of remaining blood, Tash sighed. “Well, I suppose a girl should clean up now,” she cast a sideways glance at Marcus and whispered suggestively, “Unless you’d care to help me burn off all this excess energy I’m suddenly feeling.”
*Yes it takes some amateurs like that, doesn’t it?* Marcus thought while he gave Tash’s body a speculative look. She wasn’t unattractive but the various fluids that still coated her body were enough to dissuade him even if he wanted to get into a sexual encounter so soon after Amanda’s revelations. Tash might be willing but he knew very little about her. *Once bitten…*
“I’m sorry Natasha, I have other things to attend-”
Marcus stopped. Onyx had touched his arm. He raised an eyebrow as his servitor cast a coquettish look over one shoulder towards his client.
Disappointed at Marcus’ rejection, Tash nevertheless cocked her head at Onyx’s apparent interest. Memories surfaced of Ohenewaa after just such a ritual, indulging in orgiastic release with several of her acolytes, and Tash found her pulse quickening. Ohenewaa, of course, had only ever had female acolytes.
She returned Onyx’s hopeful look with a frank one of her own and smiled broadly. “Well, Mr Dalton,” she said, returning to the formal address, “it seems your assistant may be willing to extend the terms of your contract just a little, if you won’t.”
Marcus looked at the two of them. He wouldn’t ask Onyx to serve in this capacity but if the demon was interested he wouldn’t forbid the interaction.
“Well, Natasha,” he turned to his demon, “Onyx. Enjoy the rest of the evening. You’ll make your own way home?”
Onyx nodded and stepped past Marcus as he walked back to his car.
*****
[/][/]1Take this sacrifice, drink of the blood of the animal, that you may rise.
Be strengthened by her life.
Drink of her death that you may live again.
When the circle is complete, shall you live.
Hear my words, and obey me as your mistress.
Do my bidding.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
May 2nd, 2:20 pm
The Big house; Cole’s room.
“Why have you summoned me?!” the djinn boomed staring in surprise at the young man before him; sixteen-year-old conjurers were rather rare.
It had taken a few tries, but Cole had managed to use Daye’s stone and summon the djinn without his mistress’s aid. However, the boy could not let his achievement go to his head, because the stone had been drained of its power and was now nothing more than a pretty rock. *No room for error,* he told himself, taking a deep breath.
Before answering, the boy retrieved a platinum disk from his pocket. “This,” he said, holding the object up for the djinn to see. “It’s a Seal of Lasarna.”
“I am millennia old child, I know what it is. Now answer me for I grow weary, why have you summoned me?”
The teen smiled, realizing how close he was to his goal. “I know you cannot change the fabric of reality in my favor, but it is within your ability to grant me knowledge.”
“It is.”
“The fusion ritual, I need to know how it’s done,” Cole replied quickly, his excitement growing with each passing second.
“There is a reason the ritual has been lost in the sands of time, child. What you ask for is extremely dangerous.”
“I said,” the boy seethed through clenched teeth, “I want to know how it’s performed.”
Compelled by the power of the summoning stone, the djinn had no choice but to concede. “As you desire.”
2:55 pm
Cole’s breath came in short and sudden gasps. What had been a platinum disk seconds before had magically altered into a variety of red hot runes that had imbedded themselves painfully in his chest. The temporary agony however, was well worth the reward.
“Holy shit… this is… this is incredible,” the teen panted as the Seal’s magic etched itself into his being. Now, the mage was ready to put his plan in motion.
“I will say again boy,” the djinn said calmly, still floating only a few feet away. “The powers you have unleashed this night are wild and treacherous.”
Cole reached back to the make-shift altar, moving his hands slowly over the fire of the white candle that burned. “It’s what I want,” he replied matter-of-factly.
A scowl crossed the djinn’s face. “Be careful what you wish for.”
Cole’s finger closed over the candle’s wick, snuffing out the flame in an instant. As the fire vanished, so did the spell binding the djinn to this plane of reality. “I hate clichés,” the boy snickered, seeing the genie disappear back to wherever genies go.
Cole rebuttoned his shirt to hide the runes before he grabbed his bag and headed for the door.
*Here we go.*
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
May 2nd 9:55 pm
Darian’s Apartment.
Click
Cole smiled as his key easily slid into the lock, allowing him access into Darian’s apartment. Slipping in quickly, the boy made sure to quietly close the door behind so none of the other pesky Poplar residents would be the wiser; he couldn’t risk a screw up at such a pivotal moment.
Taking a quick glance around, he realized that Darian was nowhere to be found. “And where are you so late in the evening Dar?” Cole said aloud, as he made his way towards his old room. “While I’m here, I may as well pick up some of my stuff.”
The day he had left, Cole had been in such a rage, he hadn’t bothered to collect some of his personal belongings, and since he had time to kill before the fae returned, it seemed as good a time as any. Although he didn’t have much, there were definitely certain things he wanted back. A willow branch wand, amethyst meditation stones, quartz crystals for scrying and some essence of mugwart all made their way into his backpack as he continued to rummage through the drawers. The looting continued for awhile longer, until Cole opened the top drawer of the bedside table. The contents within brought the pillaging to an abrupt halt.
The boy’s hands trembled slightly as they gently gripped onto a finely carved wooden frame that surrounded a picture he hadn’t seen since he ran away. The image invoked a sudden rush of emotions within the boy, plunging his mind back to the day it was taken.
**FLASH BACK**
October 8th, 2006
LA Coastline
Cole trailed behind, watching as Chance and Alessa ‘frolicked’ on the beautiful sands of the beach. *He would probably kill me if I said he was frolicking,* Cole smiled to himself.
In the past few months, he couldn’t really explain why, he had grown close to the two vampire hunters, closer than he had to anyone in along time. Having lived alone and on the streets for so long, it was only natural that he had inevitably become closed and distant from others, but now, things finally seemed to be getting better.
Chance chuckled at one of Alessa’s jokes, before tightening his arms around her. Then he looked back over his shoulder at Cole trailing behind them. “Do we smell or something?” he asked Alessa, drawing a laugh. “I can’t think of any other reason why he’d be keeping his distance.”
“No,” Alessa answered. “I don’t smell. But you do,” she added teasingly.
Chance gave a look of mock hurt. “No fair. We both know I showered this morning,” he winked.
Alessa blushed, remembering the ‘shower’ well. “Then obviously we didn’t do a good enough job, because mister, you stink.” She started unbuttoning his shirt. “There. That’s better,” she said once she had finished.
“Ahh… I can feel the stench leaving me already.” Chance flashed his grin, then looked back over his shoulder at Cole. “Hey, kid. You are allowed to walk with us, you know.”
“Yes, Cole,” Alessa agreed. “Come join us.” She threw one arm around Chance’s waist as she held the other open for Cole.
“Yeah, uh sorry, I was just day dreaming,” he replied, jogging to catch up. The sand was warm against his feet, and although it was a tad chilly, there was not a single cloud blocking the sun’s beautiful rays.
Cole blushed as Alessa wrapped him in a brief hug with her free arm.
“What was that for?” the teen asked, not used to receiving such signs of affection.
“What, does a person need a reason to hug someone else, what is this world coming to?” She laughed, squeezing the boy even tighter.
As Alessa withdrew her arms from around him, Cole couldn’t help but think momentarily to the upcoming events regarding the Brotherhood. Alessa and Chance, they were both going to go and face probably the oldest and most powerful vampires in existence, and that sent a shiver done his spine.
“Oh wow, look at all those shells!” Alessa cried excitedly, as she rushed from the two, a little further up the beach.
Smiling briefly and the demoness’ grace and beauty, Chance turned back to Cole, observing some sudden uneasiness. “What’s the matter, kiddo?” he asked, noting Cole’s shiver. “We’re on the beach in LA and the sun is shining. There’s no way in hell you can shivering because of the cold.”
The boy shifted his feet nervously in the sand, unsure of whether or not to tell him; it seemed selfish somehow, worrying that something could happen, and he would never get to see them again.
“Come on Cole, you don’t need to worry. What’s wrong?” Chance reiterated.
“It’s just,” the boy started meekly, “Now that you guys got that special flower, you’ll both have to go and actually use it on that vampire you know. And…” Cole’s face reddened even worse than it had before, as he moved his gaze to the ground. “With all your abilities, you and Alessa could probably become rich, and live a nice, safe, peaceful life, instead of going to…”
He stopped again, not wanting to actually say it aloud as if by whispering it would make it come to pass. “I’m scared if you go fight the Brotherhood, something may happen…”
“You mean you think we may die?” Chance asked, voicing Cole’s fears. The boy merely nodded and Chance sighed. “Well, I thought about this a long time ago, and I look at it this way. There’s billions and billions of people out there, all walking round in their own little worlds. Of those billions and billions there is a tiny, small percentage who know about vampires and demons. Of that percentage, there’s an even smaller fraction, a pitifully small fraction you might say, that fight them. We’re a part of that woefully small fraction. Yeah, it would be nice and all to use our skills to live peaceful, happy lives. Ignoring the moral questions of whether we should use our ‘abilities’ as you say to live like that, would it be right to go around ignoring the threats to the world?
“We’re lucky, maybe unlucky, enough to know about vampires, Cole. We know how much of a danger they are to the people around us. Because we have that knowledge, we have a responsibility to the world to fight them, because nobody else will do it. You have every right to be scared, kid. I’m scared. We may very well be going to our deaths. But that’s our fate. If I die to keep that much larger proportion living their happy, ignorant lives in the act of fighting against the very same vampires that took my happiness and ignorance away from me, then I’m gonna die a happy man. I’d rather die well, knowing I’ve done a good thing and that my death has served a cause, rather than wind up on a deathbed decades from now feeling guilty about the responsibility I’ve shirked.”
Chance’s words dug deep into the boy’s mind. It was true; if not them, than who would stop Dathan and his fold?
Cole looked up, staring at the man’s solemn face, and couldn’t help but admire Chance’s conviction and courage.
“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” he asked, his worries, although not totally faded, much reduced.
Chance gave a warming smile and placed his hand on Cole’s shoulder. “Count on it, kiddo. Don’t worry about me, you just take care of yourself.”
The sound of running footsteps caused the two, to look up and notice Alessa returning back, her hands filled with an assortment of coloured shells. “What have you guys been saying?” she asked, noticing the ‘off’ tone in the air.
Cole looked down again, not knowing what to say, but Chance piped in, placing his arm around the boy’s small shoulders, and shaking him lightly. “Just some guy talk.”
***END OF FLASHBACK***
A twinge of guilt crept into his heart, as he stared down at the photo of Chance. How Cole had been acting, what he was doing, what he was going to do, Chance wouldn’t have condoned it.
“If you hadn’t left,” Cole whispered sadly, placing the picture face down, so he could no longer see the judging gaze of his friend looking accusingly up at him. “I wouldn’t have had to do all these things.”
Special thanks to Matt for writing Chance
Special thanks to Amanda for making the pic
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
May 2nd, 11:48 pm
Darian’s Apartment
Darian hitched his shoulder, trying to ease the kinks out of it from that day’s training as he climbed the front steps of Poplar Avenue. He began to punch in the key code for the door, then just rested his forehead against the brick of the portico while he settled his thoughts.
It wasn’t that sparring with demons was too freaky. He’d known they’d be there before he even went to the Watchers’ mansion in the first place. It wasn’t that despite how he tried to be his normal, friendly self to everyone, Ana continually treated him as though he were less than the shit on her shoe. It wasn’t even that he got a creepy feeling from the whole setup – demon soldiers that were trained as though they were in an army. It wasn’t even how cold and, and… ‘unTashlike’ Tash had been lately, especially since she and Delancre had returned from their little jaunt to Colombia.
There was no one thing he could really put his finger on, but he worried about what was going on behind the scenes in that place. Tash had told him more than once that she had it all under control, but apart from hinting that she planned somehow to stop Delancre doing whatever it is he was doing she’d not offered any information. Nor had she wanted Darian’s help, although she’d asked him once or twice to keep the Slayer occupied while she went off and did god-knows-what.
Maybe she was just trying to protect him from something dangerous. But damn it, he’d been with her at Sunnydale when they’d fought Proserpexa, he’d been there on G’rnatha with her, they’d faced down the Brotherhood for Christ’s sake – what could be going on that she didn’t trust him to fight beside her any more? He wasn’t some kid who needed to be looked after!
Grumbling to himself, he re-entered the door code and headed down the hallway to his apartment, trying to let all the worry drift from his mind. Maybe when he’d had a shower he’d be able to put the pieces together a little better. He reached his flat and turned the key in the lock, one hand ready to flick on the light switch as he entered the living room. But he paused, his hand hovering in mid-air as a prickle raised the hairs at the back of his neck. Something that exuded magic was in here, still and silent.
He swept his hand up the wall, and lights blazed from the ceiling. Darian’s eyed opened wide and his jaw dropped as he saw what shared the room with him.
“You… Where have you been?” he demanded. “I’ve been worried sick!”
The boy was standing at the far end of the living room, his head downcast as he stared at the floor. “I’m sorry Darian,” Cole said quietly, not even looking up to see the angered, although relieved, expression the fae wore. “I’m so very sorry for how things turned out.”
His small frame began to shake and shiver from the nerves… Nerves? No, if he was honest with himself, it was not the complexity of the spell that had him anxious; it was the repercussions that would come of it. Darian didn’t deserve this; his brain fully grasped that. However, he had no choice. It had to be this way if he was going to amass enough strength to go through with his plan.
“Please Darian, if there was another way… Just know I didn’t want it like this.”
Darian looked puzzled for a moment at Cole’s words, then shook his head as he advanced on the boy. “Look, it doesn’t matter. I’m terrified to think where you’ve been this past month, and what you’ve been doing – I’ve heard one or two stories that I can hardly believe. I spent day after day, night after night out looking for you, Cole. I…” Darian reached out to enfold Cole in a hug, which the boy endured stiffly.
“I’m just so happy you’ve come back,” Darian said into the boy’s hair, finding himself unable to stop the flow of words. He wanted to fill the void, make Cole smile again, make sure everything was all right. Releasing Cole from the one-sided hug he continued, “I know you must have been through some awful stuff out there, but you’re back now. I’ll help you through it all, you know I’ll always be here for you. If it’s drugs again, we can get you clean together, if it’s the magic then we can help you control it-”
A dry chuckle fell from the boy’s lips as he took a step back and finally looked up, locking eyes with Darian. “That’s the problem, my friend, you can’t control your magic.”
From beneath the material of his shirt, a blazing red light began to burn outwards, enveloping Cole in an eerie crimson light. “Do you realize how much power you have in you? How lucky you are to have access to such a wellspring of magic?” The boy began to shake his head slowly as his eyes swirled, the bright blue colour replaced with empty black voids. “Of course you don’t, and because of that you don’t deserve any of it.”
In one fierce motion, Cole tore away the buttons holding his shirt closed, revealing his bare chest. Darian now saw that the glowing red light came from a variety of sigils that were charred onto the boy’s flesh.
“Don’t worry Darian, I’ll try to make this painless.” With that, Cole outstretched his hand, allowing the glowing ruby light to envelop the Fae, and begin to siphon away his magical essence.
His eyes wide, Darian gasped at the weakness that assailed his body. From his vantage point within Cole’s spell Darian could see tendrils of purple mist snaking from his body and into Cole’s. Fear gripped him and he reached out a trembling hand to the boy, entreating, “Cole, please. You don’t know what you’re doing. Evexus is strong – he’ll overwhelm you. He-aarrrgggh.”
Gasping as Cole increased his pull, Darian struggled to get through to the teen. “Cole, why…why are you doing this?”
“Shut up!,” Cole screamed, as he continued the spell. *It had to be this way,* he kept repeating in his mind, trying to justify to himself what he was doing. “I have to do this, Darian. You don’t understand, but I have to!”
Darian fell to one knee as he tried to make his way forward. “But don’t you realize?” Cole continued, “Once I’m finished, you’ll be free – free of Evexus, free from this horrible endless life.”
“Cole, I do understand,” Darian said between grunts of pain and waves of nausea, “I understand you want to mur- oooohhhhh …murder me in order to boost your own power. What sort of… sort of person does that, Cole? Not the boy I knew, the boy who would go out of his way… aaahhhh… to help people. The boy who would grow up to be the man we saw. That man never came from a boy who would destroy a friend for his own benefit.”
The long speech sapped the last of Darian’s strength, and he fell onto his face, feeling the floorboards pressing against his cheek even as Cole continued to siphon away his power – and Evexus. He closed his eyes against the pain and held back a sob. Nobody knew better than he how difficult it was to keep Evexus under control. The thought of Cole in his current unstable state with the dark fae inside him was unbearable.
He rolled over enough to face upwards at Cole, the crimson light pulsing around both of them. “Cole,” he said dully, resigned to his fate, “Once you have him inside you, keep him down. Keep him bottled up. If he gets free, he will imprison your mind. I don’t want to see you a slave to him. Find someone strong enough to bind him inside you. Please, promise me that much.”
Rsssthnaaa yssniiloooraaaa
A strange new presence began to creep in Cole’s mind, whispering dark things in its long forgotten language. It was the fae; Cole could feel some of his essence inside him. It was intoxicating, invigorating, wonderful… horrible.
*I AM YOUR MASTER NOW!* he commanded, pushing the voice out of his mind as he looked down at the fallen man before him.
Even now, moments before death, Darian tried to help him… why? He thought back to the picture that rested on the side table in the other room, and wondered briefly what Chance would have said if he could see this.
ssllthanniaa rrrexxivvoooolll
“Stop it, stop it!” he cried aloud, as he broke the connection of his spell abruptly. The boy stepped back, his breaths coming in rapid succession.
*I have enough power now, and if I take any more, I risk losing control to Evexus,* he tried to convince himself, not wanting to admit to his weakness of heart. But in reality he knew why he had stopped. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t take away the last of Darian’s energy and condemn him to death – not even the Hyde virus could make him do that.
Now shaking more than before, Cole moved forward quickly as he bent down low to hold Darian’s head gently in his arms. “Darian” he said weakly, as several tears fell from his eyes onto Darian’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”
The boy stood up quickly, and rushed to the door, running from Poplar as fast as he could.
Only semi-conscious, Darian lay on his side listening to Cole’s retreating footsteps. A tear fell from his cheek onto the floor, glistening on the wood like a dewdrop. It took all his effort just to concentrate on breathing, but one thought passed through his mind.
*Why, Cole?”
Special thanks to Heather for writing Darian
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Nikolai’s apartment
9 am
Daye stood before Nikolai's door, steeling herself to knock. She'd slipped out of Marcus’ room early, feeling quite uneasy for having been there all night. She didn’t want him to feel obligated to her and she didn’t want to be a burden. She’d thought about leaving him a note, but decided that she’d intruded enough. She was really grateful that Marcus had taken such good care of her when she’d been so desperate, but Daye didn’t want to appear weak to him or anyone else. She needed to try and find out what was going on and fix it herself. Daye knew she shouldn’t make herself dependent on anyone else.
Daye had to admit though, that she felt steadier now than she had in weeks.
*Actual sleep might have something to do with that,* she thought. With Marcus coming back to the hotel late last night after he’d taken care of his business and letting her stay, Daye had actually managed to get a decent night's sleep. Both her mothers had been remarkably quiet, as usual when Marcus was around. She wondered if there was something about him being a necromancer that contributed to quieting the spirits of her dead tormentors.
*Not important right now,* Daye scolded herself. She was stalling and she knew it. After the last few times she'd seen Nikolai, Daye wasn't sure how receptive he'd be to her visit, but she didn't have a lot of choices at this point. Considering how she'd alienated all of the people she'd once counted as friends, Nik was the only one left likely to be even a little willing to help her at all, and so here she was.
Nikolai went back to doing more research as he looked through the books, trying to balance his time between mana and attempting to prepare for the break-in. He would, in fact, be going to see Kate that afternoon. This was when the knock on the door distracted him from his thinking.
*Probably Jimmy,* he thought, heading over to it, checking his gun along the way.
Looking through the portal, he stopped in surprise. It wasn’t seeing Daye suddenly show up that surprised him, so much as the fact that she no longer looked like a Hollywood hooker. And there was something else when he opened the door, a sense of confusion about her. A false smile and pretended joviality to his voice rang through as he spoke.
“Ah, Amanda, welcome,” he said, motioning for her to enter. “I can feel that you’re worried, so I take it something is bothering you?”
Nikolai could feel some of his new – old – L’Than – self beginning to show through again, finally settling back in control. Daye looked thinner, paler as well. He wondered exactly what was wrong, and if it was something that he could actually help her with, despite what she’d tried to do to him.
Daye tried to smile at Nikolai, but she knew she was doing a poor job of it. She couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable. After all, she'd tried to rape the poor man... for reasons that she now couldn't fathom. That was just another example of what was wrong with her.
"Hi, uhm... Ko... Nikolai." Daye hesitated. She had no right to refer to him as a familiar friend. Friends didn't do to one another the kinds of things she had done.
*I wanted him... but I had no right,* Daye thought. *I don't understand any of this.*
"I'm sorry to be bothering you, but I didn't know who else to come to," Daye said after a moment. "Do you have a few moments to talk to me about something?"
Nikolai raised an eyebrow in curiosity at that. There certainly was more regret than she’d had about her before. Also a great of confusion about her that he could put his finger on, that much was obvious. “Of course,” he smiled, though knowing how he would have to approach it. She needed to work things out for herself, and he would have to do his best to impersonate a spirit guide.
"Uhm... the thing is, I've noticed, just recently, that I've been feeling... not like myself... if you get my meaning," Daye began, pacing around the room nervously. "I... my mother, that is, I think perhaps there might be something wrong with me... maybe not just with me either, 'cause Cole, well he's been really out of sorts as well, you know, and then there are the voices, constantly the voices, except for when I'm with... but that's really beside the point. What I want is to see if maybe you can find out... that is... with your connections, you have access to a lot of resources and I'm trying to... I just want to know what's happening to me. Why am I feeling this way? Why have I done these things?"
Nikolai offered Daye a seat, as he went to sit down himself. Seeing visions, hearing voices – all things that, on the surface at least, would be taken as signs of dementia. But still that she was asking him to try to find something out with such scant information was beyond him. Part of him had to wonder as well if she didn’t suffer from the same thing as he did. “Done what things? I can scarcely help you if I don’t know what to ask about, can I?”
"No, of course you can't," Daye said softly. "I... well, of course, what I did... What I tried to do to you..."
Daye's face flushed and she couldn't look directly at Nikolai. "And I... I quit my job, you know. The Bibliophile... it was my favorite place, the best place... and I just started to feel so... confined. I left it and my family... and the Watchers' Council. Goddess, that was like my whole life. I went into business for myself, you know that. I've been selling my talents like some common street performer or something. It's... disrespectful... wrong... but I've had the hardest time figuring out what's wrong. Sometimes I feel like I shouldn't be restrained by morals or something. But then Erin... she's like my conscience, because my actual conscience seems to have gone on vacation or something. Someone must have stepped on my cricket..."
Daye laughed ruefully.
Nikolai took this all in stride, it sounded almost like something that he’d gone through as well, with his return to the life. He still didn’t know how to get out of that, or if it was even possible. Besides, he’d talked about her behavior with Alicia, so he already knew about most of this. “Well people and things do tend to change, Daye. Sometimes you need to go away to change, sometimes you can do it at home.”
Going away... he pushed the thought aside. There were still things to do here, and then he could leave. Go to where he needed to find himself. “Do you think that this is a chance that you want, Daye? Is your soul really cut out for that path?”
Daye looked even more confused. "I... I don't want to be this person. I don't want to hurt the people I care about... not any more. What I did to Kate... I don't even know why I did those things. I was completely out of control. I am still out of control. Right now, I'm fighting to sit here and think straight about things. I don't want this, Nikolai. All I want is to get better so I can go home."
Nikolai frowned in confusion. Kate? What had she done to Kate? If she’d harmed one hair on his friend’s head, she would – no. He pushed such bloody thoughts from his mind, no matter how sweet revenge would be.
“An illness of the soul is a difficult thing to treat, Daye,” he finally said after several minutes of thought. “I’ve heard of such an illness going around, but its final treatment… well, that’s something obscured by a veil of ignorance.”
Morbid curiosity compelled him to ask, “What happened to Kate? Is she all right?”
Daye's eyes widened in fear. *Why did I mention Kate? I just must have assumed she would have told him. I thought perhaps she would have told everyone. Oh, Goddess, what do I say?*
"I... oh... I thought maybe you knew. But, why would she say anything? I made her feel so... stupid. As if it was her fault at all... as if it was even Galen's..."
Daye looked down at the floor, ashamed and horrified by what she was about to say. "I slept with Galen... and then I bragged about it to her. I just..."
Daye dropped her face into her hands and began to cry. "I don't know why I've been doing these things. I don't feel... right."
*That is something of an understatement,* Nikolai thought at the feelings coming from her, though completely unsure of what to say about her revelation. In a previous time, he would have simply shot her on the spot but now… he would figure out if he could forgive her later. He could sympathise, but didn’t know how far to trust the woman.
“I may know what you are going through better than you think. This… thing… infected me as well, Amanda. I’ve been looking for a cure, but have had no luck.”
Daye was overjoyed at Nikolai's words. Even though he was obviously being careful, not wanting to give her false hopes, he was saying she wasn't alone and verifying that she wasn't actually going crazy.
"Oh, Ko... Nikolai, really? It's been happening to you as well?" Daye couldn't stem her relief. "I... I'm just so glad you said that. I was really afraid that maybe I was just losing my mind. Can you imagine how scary that is?"
Despite his urge to be sympathetic, he couldn’t resist laughing. “I’m sorry,” he apologized when he calmed down. “It’s just that… well… I’ve been a schizophrenic. It’s what happens when you don’t accept the merging. Your mind ends up occupied with two personalities at the same time, and then the next thing you know you’re having long conversations with Cardassian tailors.”
Daye didn't exactly understand all of that, but she got the gist. "Ok, so you can understand," she said smiling. "So... there's something... some infection that's causing all of this, right? Well, what can we do about it? I want to do something."
Nikolai sighed. He was afraid of that. "I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings as there has been far too much depressing news of late, but unless you know what 'mana' is, I'm afraid there's nothing you can do."
Daye paused. *Mana?* she thought to herself. *It has something to do with mana? Well, I'm in no condition to try and cure some mana illness. Goddess, now what?*
"I... I doubt I'd be able to help now anyway," Daye laughed mirthlessly. "I'm barely keeping it together, right now, you know. Still... if you find out anything... if there's a way to stop this... you will let me know, right?"
Nikolai nodded. "Of course."
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Thursday, 3 May 2007 - 12:47pm – The Eldridge Residence
Nikolai waited in his car for a minute or two, listening to the last bits of a concerto by Rachmaninov before saying, “Off.” The car heard him, turning off the radio as he stepped out of it. There were many interesting things about this car, indeed. When he got up to the door to ring the doorbell, something seemed off, different from usual. The background emotions that clung to the house were in a state of flux, and he hoped nothing bad had happened.
“Ah, Galen – hello,” he said when he saw Kate’s husband. Nikolai wondered what happened: there was a feeling of some small amount of tension that was left behind, but mostly relief. Something had happened in the past few days; something that was accompanied by the kind of relief that told you the worst was over. Perhaps it was what Daye had told him about; she never said exactly how long ago that happened, and he hadn’t asked.
“Good afternoon, Nikolai,” Galen replied, looking and sounding tired. “Let me guess… you’re here to deliver more bad news.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because you always wear grey to deliver bad news.”
Nikolai snorted at that, feeling the humour behind the words more than sensing it. The world had become a much stranger place since he became an empath; the emotions were hardly noticeable now unless he focused on them.
“Yes, well…” he smiled. “Unfortunately, it’s slightly urgent. After everything Kate’s been through, I usually wouldn’t ask but… she’s the only one I know who has the ability to help that I trust.” Fortunately things didn’t seem too tense at the mention of Kate, as he thought they might be with what had happened.
Galen nodded; he could sympathise with and knew that feeling, as he let Nikolai in. He’d noticed Nikolai seemed to be taking paranoia lessons lately, and wondered what exactly it was that could have caused that. He probably didn’t want to know, but could imagine that whatever he was here about probably had something to do with the Council.
He and Kate had talked about it some earlier that morning while she had been doing some more research. It had felt strange to sit there talking to one another like the last 48 hours hadn’t even happened, like Kate hadn’t just tried to defy the laws of nature, tear apart the dimensions of heaven and hell to raise their daughter from the grave. Or that he hadn’t spent the previous day sitting at her bedside, worrying that she might not even live to see another morning.
In fact, seeing Nikolai standing there on the porch with that half anxious, half concerned expression on his face, made it seem like the past five months hadn’t even happened. It could have been the middle of January and he could be dropping by for one of his meditation sessions with his wife.
“You’d better come on in then,” he said as he stood aside, allowing the Russian to enter before closing the door behind them. "Kate’s been in the library all morning and I think she’s found out some things that you’d be interested in.”
He led the way and opened another door that led into a large, though sparsely decorated room. Empty shelves lined the walls, just waiting to be filled with the leather-bound knowledge of the ages, while dark mahogany floors gleamed with a fresh layer of beeswax and the wide, bare windows allowed sunlight to pour inside.
Kate sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by half unpacked crates and stacks of books just as she had earlier that morning. She looked no different apart from having swept her long hair up into a messy chignon and changed her nightgown and robe for a pair of black fitted slacks and a slim sky blue singlet.
“Koyla!” exclaimed Kate in surprise, seeing her friend standing in the doorway next to Galen. “I was going to call you this afternoon, I found out something about Mana and… Are you okay, Koyla?” asked Kate as she was hit by an overriding sense of guilt and worry from her friend. Of course she knew he’d still be disturbed by recent events but somehow his guilt, his grief… it was different.
“You look tired,” she said gently. “Maybe you should sit down…”
Kate looked around the room as she suddenly realised there was little place to sit except the floor as she had been doing earlier. She quickly cleared one of the packing cases and pushed down the lid firmly.
Nikolai nodded softly, gratefully accepting the offered ‘seat’ – such as it was. He was glad to hear that she at least had found something; his own research had dead-ended somewhat, and he quickly wished for an Encyclopaedia Of All Things Witchy to explain half the terms for him. He paused until Galen had left them alone before continuing.
The feelings between them were clearly ones of relief and tension. If what happened yesterday was what Daye mentioned, the worst seemed to be over. That at least would be something for him to be grateful for, the amount of pain she would feel at that… he knew her, how guilty she felt about sleeping with Damen. For Galen to do the same to her must have been devastating. Still, he would emphatically not bring it up unless she needed – or wanted – to talk about it.
“Let’s just say I can understand one of your problems better now,” he mumbled in answer to her enquiry, before shaking his head. “But that’s of secondary concern,” he pressed on before she could ask just what he meant by that. “I might have a possible lead on some of this stuff with the Council, the answer was so simple it was right in front of my face. Alessa and I are trying to come up with a plan to infiltrate their local headquarters, here in Los Angeles. But we’ll need some help, particularly of the witchy kind. Is it possible to create some form of charm that can shield surface thoughts and keep auras stabilised?”
Kate really wanted to find out what was bothering Nikolai before they got down to business, he was sending off so many conflicting emotions right now it was difficult trying to keep track. And there was also the matter of his killing Damen, his best friend - he had been so distraught the last time she had seen him, almost inconsolable and yet there was little trace of that sorrow and pain as he sat before her now.
*Something else has happened,* she realised with an inward sigh, but decided not to bring it up right now. Nikolai obviously didn’t want to talk about it just yet.
“That should be possible,” said Kate directing her thoughts back to the man’s question. “We used things like that all the time when I worked with the Coven of Sindell, it made undercover operations much simpler. But…” she paused for a moment, “Ambrose Delancre is a powerful mage by all accounts. I could fashion something to block surface thoughts but if he reads your mind and finds nothing he’ll know you’re blocking him – that alone will make him suspicious.”
Kate paced a little while she thought of a suitable plan of attack. “The aura shield should be quite simple to effect, it just involves a cleansing of sorts, and I have spells that can block a mage from sensing your true intent; obfuscatory spells allow a small trace of surface thoughts to be read while blanking out the rest. That’s fine if you’re a trained telepath, there are certain tricks that can be performed to alter surface thoughts but it’s tricky if you’ve never done it before and if Delancre presses the matter he could trip you up pretty easily.”
Nikolai remained quiet while Kate paced thoughtfully up and down the room, almost knocking over a pile of books at one pass. She picked them up in annoyance and set to stacking them on the empty shelves. Her hand lingered on the spine of one for a moment before she turned around to face her friend.
“I don’t know what you and Alessa have planned but it might be better to have someone there who can perform that type of spell actively just in case he gets suspicious or tries to break past any shields you might have.”
There was also another motive behind her offer but Kate didn’t want to reveal it just yet. Though, along with everything else she had to admit to a bit of curiosity about First Elder Delancre. She’d never met him in person and she was itching to have a chance to see the man who had most of Los Angeles jumping to his commands.
Kate smiled playfully, “I don’t know, maybe a witch you’re friends with, a telepath, someone with experience in that area. About 5’6”, 5’7” with red hair, standing not a million miles from you right now.”
Nikolai couldn’t resist the urge to laugh. It was certainly one of the more creative ways to offer help, and it did make a certain amount of sense. Of course, Galen would probably kill him if anything happened to her, but what was war without a little risk?
“That would be a good idea, most likely. You aren't jealous of my former career as a spy, are you?" he joked back with her.
Kate shook her head with a half smile. “Have I ever told you that you have the same weird sense of humour as that husband of mine?”
“I’m sure that either great minds think alike or fools seldom differ… so, which are we?” he half-wondered aloud, before turning serious again. “We’re still in the planning stage, it will take time to do this properly – and I’m glad you learned something about mana, all of your technical terms were confusing me. Just what direction is widdershins, anyway?”
Kate laughed, wrapping a conspiratorial arm around her friend, “For the record it’s anti-clockwise, though I doubt you’ll ever need to know. Come on…” she said, pulling him down on to the floor to show him the book she had been reading. “I’ll show you what I found.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Thursday, 3 May 2007 – 1:14pm
An uproarious cacophony of noise filtered into the hallway from the living room. Kate had just said goodbye to Nikolai but the boisterous sound of cheering and yelling came from another source. A few of Galen’s work colleagues had dropped by about thirty minutes ago with a tape of last night’s big baseball game, Dodgers vs. Giants. They had ‘commandeered’ the living room, filling it with the slightly sweaty scent of unwashed male and beer. Galen wasn’t much of a sports fan but with all the time he’d had off work recently it was an excuse to catch up with some of his friends and make amends for piling extra work on them. But with everything that had happened recently Kate had forgotten that they were coming round and she’d had to end Nikolai’s visit short just to be on the safe side.
Kate was just closing the front door when she felt Galen’s arms wrap around her from behind and he kissed her cheek lovingly. “Thanks for this. I know the guys are rowdy, but I promise we’ll keep it down while you do your research.”
“That’s okay,” said Kate with a smile, slipping out of Galen’s arms as she crossed the hall and closed the library door fully. “I was going to take a break now anyway.”
Galen took Kate’s hand and led her towards the living room. “Well then, why don’t I introduce you… Guys…”
On the sofa sat three men, two were about the same age as Galen while the third was much younger, in his late twenties. They all turned around to face the couple at Galen’s call. “I want you to meet my wife, Catherine. Kate, these are the guys, Anton, Tony and Greg.”
The three men all grinned, Greg waved and Anton held up his beer in greeting. Tony, the youngest of the three, rose to his feet and smiled, wiping his condensation-moistened hand on his jeans before offering it to Kate.
“Nice to meet you, Eldridge here keeps talking about his wife. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. Kate? Right?” Tony didn’t even wait for a reply as he took her hand and pulled her over to the sofa. “Why don’t you sit with us?”
Before Kate could protest, Tony sat down next to her. The sofa was big but with three other well-built men plus Kate it was a bit of a tight squeeze. Tony passed her a fresh beer with a friendly grin and settled back to watch the game.
"Oh, come on!” shouted the man that had been introduced as Greg - a muscular, heavy-set man in jeans and a plain white t-shirt whose dark unruly hair seemed to have a habit of falling into his eyes. “I can't believe that he missed that fly ball! It was practically coming down right IN his glove!"
“Hey, steady on there,” laughed Tony, wrapping an arm around Kate to stop her from being knocked out by the other man’s frantic gesturing. He casually leaned in to whisper into Kate’s ear, his breath warm against her neck. “Greg’s a pussy cat really, but you don’t want to be on the receiving end of his right hook I can tell you.”
Kate drew away from Tony’s close embrace and scrunched up her nose as she watched the game. “Oh…” Kate suddenly said after five minutes. “I get it, this is like rounders. They have to hit the little ball with that stick and score a full round before being tagged?"”
Anton scoffed, “English.”
Greg laughed, “Women.”
Galen couldn’t help but grin at his wife, smiling at her with a look of complete adoration in his eyes, especially as her cheeks reddened a little in embarrassment and she shuffled awkwardly, sinking back in her seat and sucking down on the end of her beer bottle.
“Heh, looks like that bottle’s having all the fun heh guys?” laughed Tony bawdily as he caught Galen’s eye and followed it back to his wife. “You should save some of that for your fella, looks like he could do with loosening up.”
Kate suddenly looked stunned and shared a glance with her husband who looked like he was just moments away from leaping out of his chair and beating Tony to within an inch of his life.
“Hey, Tony! Cut it out!” snapped Anton in disgust, seeing the woman’s horror and Galen’s eyes burn with fury at the comment. Anton swiped at Tony, giving him a playful shove. “Just because no woman would look twice at a loser like you.”
“Look who’s talking!” laughed Tony, giving Anton an equal punch in the arm.
“We need more beer,” said Greg suddenly, holding up his empty bottle.
“I’ll get it,” said Kate quickly, thankful to have an excuse to leave the room. She eased herself out from between Anton and Tony and quietly slipped off towards the kitchen.
“OUCH! Now that hadda hurt!” winced Anton as Cody Ross slammed into the back wall of the park, missing a catch by mere inches.
Tony drank his beer in silence, waiting a moment as he stared blankly at the television set before standing up with a sigh. “I gotta whizz, you have a bathroom round here?”
“Down the hall,” said Galen without thought, not even removing his eyes from the game as the man got up and left the room.
The sound of the television set and shouting filled the hallway and filtered into the kitchen as Tony looked around for where Kate had gone. He noticed the open door that led down into the basement and smiled to himself. He could hear the sound of glass bottles being put down on the concrete floor and quietly pushed the door open further and walked down the sturdy wooden staircase.
Kate looked up in surprise at the sound of the creaking stairs. “Oh,” she said suddenly, clasping a hand to her heart, “You frightened me.”
“Sorry about that,” said Tony with another cryptic grin. “I wouldn’t want to do that. I just wondered if you needed a hand… and I wanted to apologise about before. I have a weird sense of humour I’m afraid. It’s always leading me astray.”
“It’s okay, really,” said Kate though she had to admit, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy around this guy. He had charming, handsome good looks with his shiny black hair and dark brown eyes giving him a distinctly Italian appearance. While he had a certain brooding, mysterious quality to his features when he smiled all that melted away giving him a positively angelic aspect. But angels had a nasty way of turning into demons as Kate knew all too well.
She turned back to the whirling refrigerator and un-stacked a few more bottles from the shelf. Tony meanwhile watched her, releasing a slow, controlled sigh from his lips as he let his eyes linger on her wholesome appearance. The tight vest and pants only hinted at the slight curves beneath while her pretty red hair was all loosely tied back, though the odd tendril had come lose to frame her even prettier face. She was really very attractive though there appeared to be a slight nervousness about her actions and a constant worried expression that marred the blooming features of her face.
“Here, take these,” said Kate as she turned back around and stacked several beer bottles in Tony’s open arms, picking up a few more herself. “We’d better get back before everyone dies of thirst.”
Tony smiled and lingered by the stairwell until Kate decided to lead the way back up to the kitchen. He wet his lips a little in contemplation as he copped an eyeful of her perfectly rounded behind.
“So… Kate…” he began casually as they emerged in the kitchen and placed their burden down on the table. “How long have you and Eldridge been hitched?”
“Not long,” said Kate with a slight smile, getting a cloth to wipe the dusty bottles. “One year this July.”
“Ah, no, not long at all,” said Tony with a wry grin. “Guess you must still be in that honeymoon period huh? Where it’s all you can do to drag yourself out of the bedroom. I wondered why Eldridge was always late, especially on a Sunday morning.”
Kate blushed a little at the man’s frank manner, averting her gaze as she continued to clean the beer bottles on the table. The truth was she and Galen had always had a very intimate relationship and a particularly fervent sex life, but ever since Emma’s illness they’d barely even kissed. She could understand why Galen wanted to take things slowly but a part of her desperately wanted to rekindle the passion that had once burned so brightly between them.
Tony laughed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, again. I’m always getting told I should be a bit more subtle. But where’s the fun in that?”
Kate smiled weakly at the joke causing Tony’s grin to widen. “Hey, there, there… I knew you’d have a beautiful smile.”
Kate shook her head in an amused gesture of despair. Tony sure had a strange sense of humour but at least he was the first to admit it.
At the sudden loud gasp that came from the living room, followed by a low collective groan, Tony chuckled. “I think you’re right about them dying of thirst, they certainly sound in pain.” He quickly leaned over Kate to reach for the bottles, his arms moving around her slight figure to get to the table. “I think we’d better get these served up pronto.”
As Tony leaned over Kate he pushed her further into the table as his body pressed into hers. Suddenly her back straightened as she felt the edge of Tony’s hand skirt lightly against her behind. It wasn’t anything blatant, in fact she wasn’t even sure if she’d maybe imagined it, especially as Tony grabbed several bottles and with a smile dodged back in the direction of the living room without another word.
Feeling a bit silly, Kate took a couple of bottles with her as she rejoined the rowdy living room.
“Hey honey,” smiled Galen as his wife returned, “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost!” He reached out his hand to pull Kate down into his chair with him, kissing her cheek lightly as she snuggled up against him. “You all right?” he asked suddenly, noticing her slightly confused expression. “You don’t need me to tell you what an inning is again, do you?”
“No,” laughed Kate, her worry evaporating as she felt Galen’s strong, protective arm wrap around her. “And I’m fine… really.”