*** 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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Drew and Ryan go to Kate for help
*** Wednesday, May 16, 2007, 6:14 am ***
*** Kate and Galen Eldridge's house ***
"Look, just let me do the talking," Drew warned the demon beside him warily. "You aren't exactly their favorite person, you know? And as much as I hate to ask it of her, we need Kate's help. So, if you could just keep your mouth shut that would make things a whole lot easier."
Nightwalker frowned at the man's words. He understood that Drew Langley had every reason to hate him, but it seemed to him that Daye's life was more important than whatever resentments might be simmering between them. Wisely, though, he decided to accept Drew's advice for now. Standing a few inches behind the man, he waited as Drew knocked loudly on the door.
The knock at the door came as a welcome break. Kate sighed wearily, rubbing her eyes as she hopped from her chair and made her way to the hallway, leaving her books and experiments abandoned for the time being. Since Will’s arrival and the notebook he’d left in her possession her efforts had been tripled in the bid to find a cure to the now aptly named ‘Hyde’ virus. She’d been working non-stop for the past few days and was getting to the point where she was beginning to think she was going around in circles. A break was just what she needed in every sense of the word.
Glancing in the spyhole she frowned and opened the door to reveal a rather worn and bedraggled Drew. He looked so weary, like he hadn’t slept in days, and there was a distinct gaunt appearance to his features.
“Drew…” said Kate tiredly, stifling a yawn behind her hand as she looked the man up and down, “It’s so early. What’s going on? Are you all right?” Kate was about to invite him in when she suddenly saw the man that was standing just a little behind her friend. Her face fell into an expression of absolute shock and horror and she stumbled backwards, banging into the small console table behind her.
“Ryan?” she gasped, her voice barely audible through her fear and confusion. This couldn’t be! Ryan was dead, she’d seen his corpse with her own eyes, she’d seen Galen as he’d delivered the final blow in ending his life. Her wide eyes quickly turned to Drew, her fingers trembling as she raised them to cover her mouth in panic. “What?… what is he…”
Drew struggled to control his impatience. He understood what a shock it was, seeing Ryan standing there when they'd all believed him to be dead. Hadn't he felt the same way last night when the bastard had shown up on his doorstep? Hadn't he wanted to tear the demon to pieces with his bare hands?
"Kate, I'm sorry. I didn't have anywhere else to go," Drew said. "And I know what this looks like... Well, actually, I can't begin to imagine what this looks like, but... could we please come inside and talk? I promise you, Ryan won't do anything... well, at all. He had to be here. I wouldn't have brought him along if I'd had any other choice, believe me."
Kate couldn’t remove her eyes from Ryan’s form. She’d seen him in his demonic visage before but it had been a long way from what she saw now. Before he had been illustrious, beautiful with golden glowing skin and haunting eyes filled with shining silver. His appearance was still haunting now but for entirely different reasons. His face was hideously scarred, harrowed and empty, almost a parody of what he had been before.
Despite Drew’s entreaty Kate found herself unable to speak. Instead she stood with her back pressed against the wall and the same horrified expression etched into her face. “No…” she mumbled pitifully, “You, you’re dead… you’re dead… it can’t be…”
Nightwalker knew that he had promised not to say anything, but he also realized that Drew was in no way equipped to deal with Kate's reaction. The man looked bewildered and near panic. If someone didn't step in things here were about to deteriorate rapidly, and Daye would never get the help she needed.
"Catherine, please calm down," Nightwalker's once beautiful voice was ragged, as if he spoke through a throat as ravaged as his visage. "You are not crazy, and you are right to be confused, to be frightened. I was dead. Your husband killed me. I remember that as well as you.
“But, as you can clearly see, I am not dead any longer,” Nightwalker continued, endeavoring to make his tone as soothing as possible. “I was resurrected by Ambrose Delancre, which is only part of why we’re here. If you could… that is, we really must talk to you. It’s imperative. Daye’s very life hangs in the balance.
“So, even though I know you have no reason to help me…or to trust anything I say,” Nightwalker said, “I hope you’ll at least give us a chance to explain things. I’m begging you for that chance. Daye is your best friend, and unless you at least hear us out, I fear her life will be forfeit.”
Kate felt sick at Ryan’s words and she had to lean against the wall to stop herself from falling her legs felt so weak. “Daye is not my friend any more,” she said coldly, her voice fragile from the pain that she still felt deep inside. “Best friends don’t-” Kate stopped herself from finishing her sentence. Glancing at Drew her expression softened slightly and she mumbled, “Best friends don’t do what she did.”
Drew felt Kate's words cut him to the core. He couldn't know for sure what Kate was referring to, but he could make a pretty good guess.
"I... I'm sorry, Kate," he said softly. "Perhaps we were wrong to come here. Amanda... she's done some terrible things lately. I know that. It's your right to feel whatever you're feeling. I just can't give up on her, you know? No matter what's happened, she's my... I love her so damn much. I don't care about anything else."
Drew's voice broke. "I'm sorry we bothered you."
He turned away from the door. "Let's go. We'll have to think of something else."
Nightwalker wanted to protest. He wanted to stay and try to fight, but without Drew's support what chance did he have? He'd done unspeakable things to this woman in the past, for no reason other than she resembled Amanda. It wasn't fair to ask her to help. He knew that. Especially if Daye had done something to her, something to cause that wounded look in her eyes.
Nightwalker started to follow Drew off the porch, wishing he could do something more.
Kate closed her eyes and felt warm tears roll down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away with a trembling hand, her breathing struggling to hold back the violent sobs that threatened to overwhelm her just like all those months ago when she had fled from Daye’s apartment with pain and hurting in her heart.
“Wait,” she called out weakly, the single word swelling up in her throat which felt sticky and constricted. She might never be able to forgive Amanda for what she’d done, for the spiteful, vicious things she’d said to her. Their friendship seemed at an end now, buried by Daye’s betrayal and Kate’s sorry inability to forgive her. But she just couldn’t let her die. It wasn’t in her, she couldn’t just turn her back no matter how much it hurt her to help a woman who had caused her so much heartache.
“I-If…” Kate stammered uneasily, waiting until Drew and Ryan halted their retreat and turned back to face her. “If there’s a chance… we might get the old Daye back…” Kate’s eyelids dipped mournfully, almost regretfully. She turned her weary gaze back to the two men who stood in her doorway. “I’ll help you.”
Drew felt hope spring back to life in his chest. He turned towards Kate, a grateful smile on his face.
"Thank you, Kate," he said. "I... that's really... Just, thank you."
Kate let Drew’s gratitude drain through her without touching any concordant emotions. Instead she merely stepped back a touch more with an accepting nod. “You’d better come in then…” She let her eyes linger on the altered form of Ryan… what had Daye called him? The Nightwalker. That name seemed ironically apt now. “Both of you.”
Drew and the Nightwalker followed Kate into the house. It was very quiet inside. Drew assumed everyone else was still asleep. He couldn't help but think of happier times as he entered the kitchen. Not long ago, he could recall sitting around the table with Kate and Galen, laughing and talking. He could almost hear the laughter of two healthy, happy little girls ringing in the silence. He was overcome by grief at the thought. How could he bring more trouble to this poor woman and her husband? Yet, what choice did he have? Kate was the only one he knew that he thought might be able to help. Ryan had said that Delancre was a powerful mage. Drew had no resources of his own. Kate was the only other witch he knew. He had to try.
No one in the room spoke for several minutes, and Nightwalker could feel the tension like a thick blanket in the room. He waited for Drew to speak, but he could see that the man was overcome by his doubts and fears. Knowing that perhaps it was the wrong thing to do, but needing to be doing something, Nightwalker spoke.
"Mrs. Eldridge, what's happened to Daye, what's happening now, it's all very complicated. I don't know the whole story myself, but if you don't mind, I'd like to try and explain things to you. Drew only knows what I've told him, and it might be clearer coming directly from me."
Upstairs in the master bedroom Galen awoke with a start as a loud noise came from down the hallway. He squinted tiredly as he shrugged off that sluggish half asleep feeling, focusing his vision on the empty bed next to him. Galen frowned and ran a hand through his bed-ruffled hair shaking off the last dregs of sleep as he threw back the sheets and landed his bare feet on the floor.
He was beginning to get used to waking up alone these past few days. Kate was usually up at daybreak to begin her search for a cure to the mysterious Hyde virus, heck sometimes she didn’t even come to bed! A couple of times he’d gone into the kitchen to find his wife slumped over her research notes, her fingers still clinging to a pencil or stretched across the pages of some book she’d been reading.
Galen stumbled about the room, pulling on his robe before making his way downstairs. As he neared the kitchen he could hear quiet voices from inside. He paused for a moment before silently pushing the door open. He almost did a double-take when he saw Kate sitting at the table with two other men - the first he instantly recognized as Drew despite his run down appearance, but the second… His eyes strained to make out his altered features but there was no doubt who that man was even though Galen could barely believe his own senses.
He didn’t give anyone the time to respond. In a matter of seconds Galen’s tiredness was replaced with pulsating anger mixed with disbelief as he all but ran into the kitchen, grabbing Ryan out of his chair with a strength he didn’t even know he had and slamming him hard against the nearest wall. He knew that Ryan was stronger than he was, which was why he had to act so suddenly, so that he didn’t have the chance to retaliate.
“Just how many times do I have to kill you?!” growled Galen, tightening his grip on Ryan’s shirt as he rammed him furiously back against the wall a second time. “Was the first time not enough? You had to come back for more, did you!?”
"Wait!" Drew shouted, leaping to his feet. He could understand where Galen was coming from, but for now Ryan knew things... things they need to know.
"Galen, please, man, calm down. It's not what you think."
“Not what I think?” bellowed Galen, increasing his hold on the demon. “He’s back from the dead for a second shot at us all; which part of that am I misunderstanding?”
Kate could tell that Galen wasn’t going to back down and she couldn’t blame him. Ryan had terrorized them all in his own special way, not to mention the fact that he’d attacked her twice - the last while she had been carrying their child.
But Drew was right, at least for now. Kate left her chair and moved over to her husband, gently pulling him back, “Galen, Drew’s right, this isn’t what you think. Let him go.”
Galen shot Kate a look of absolute confusion, his eyes wide in amazement at her appeal. “Let him go? Have you lost your mind? This…” Galen returned his fury on the demon in his grip. He was ready to kill him a second time if need be, he’d kill him as many times as it took.
“Have you forgotten what this… this thing did to us?” He turned to Drew, “To ALL of us!”
“Galen… please,” said Kate softly, rubbing his shoulder gently, “…please…”
Galen’s eyes fixed on Ryan, burning with rage. But suddenly they softened and he recoiled a little. Ryan was much stronger than he was, the Ryan he knew could have squashed him like a bug if he’d wanted to… the Ryan he knew wouldn’t just stand there and take this kind of treatment. Slowly Galen released his hold on the demon and took a step back, wrapping a protective arm around Kate as he stood in front of her like a bodyguard.
“Fine,” he said warily, his eyes flickering between the two men. “But you put one foot out of line and so help me god…”
Drew wanted to protest. He wanted to shout, "No, I'm one of you!" But he knew that would be useless. He was standing in this man's kitchen, a man who until recently he'd counted a friend, and now he'd brought this... monster into that man's home. He deserved Galen's anger and suspicion.
"I'm sorry, man," Drew said wearily. "I really am. If there'd been any other way, I wouldn't have come here. I hope you believe me."
“What did you come here for?” asked Galen firmly, his focus settling more on Ryan as he watched him in case he might make a move.
Kate lowered her head slightly, running her hand up Galen’s forearm in an attempt to calm his temper. “Daye…” she said simply in reply though her voice returned to its previous meek and unobtrusive pitch. “They’re here because she’s in trouble.”
Galen’s face fell at the mention of Amanda and he glanced at his wife’s reticent posture as she averted her gaze from him, before he turned to Drew. He suddenly felt quite sick; though Daye had said everything to get him into bed that night, intimating that she and Drew were over, he couldn’t help but feel a stab of self-loathing and guilt deep in the pit of his stomach.
“Well,” he began reluctantly, “if Kate is willing to hear you out then I am too.”
Drew nodded, then turned to Ryan. "All right, go ahead. Tell them what you told me. Tell them where she is and what's happened."
Ryan shifted his eyes from Galen to Kate and then back again. There was something else that needed saying here.
"Before I do, I have something to say to the two of you," he began. "I'm sure you both feel that nothing I might say makes a bit of difference, and that is as it should be. Nearly two years ago, when I was here last, I did some pretty awful things. I admit to that. I hurt you both. I hurt Drew and Amanda as well. I have no excuse. I was... misguided. I trusted someone who is completely unworthy of trust. I made a big mistake. And I just want you to know, I want you all to know, that I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you."
Ryan paused. He took a deep breath, feeling better than he had in a long time. It wasn't much, but it was a step in the right direction.
"I'm only here because Daye needs me. The man I trusted, the one who's behind this, is a man named Ambrose Delancre. Whether you know him or not doesn't matter. Suffice it to say, he's a very dangerous individual and he's been trying to manipulate Daye for years.”
Kate looked up at Galen, trying to gauge his response to Ryan’s little speech. It didn’t really matter that he’d apologized, what was done was done and there would be no taking it back. But if he really had been manipulated by Delancre for all these years then… well then he was as much a victim in all this as anyone else. Kate was well aware what Delancre was capable of and it certainly wouldn’t have been the first time that he’d brainwashed a demon into serving him.
After a moment, Kate removed herself from her husband’s protection and sat back down at the table. “I know about Ambrose Delancre,” she said calmly. “I’ve met him and I can’t say that improved my opinion of the man. I also know what he’s capable of… he has a whole army of brainwashed demons at his facility here in Los Angeles.” *And God only knows what he has on Isla Nublada,* she thought with an inward shiver.
“So… where does Daye come into all of this? You said her life hangs in the balance?”
Drew burst in at that moment. "Delancre has her," he stated baldly. "He's holding her captive at that house up in the hills. He... somehow..."
Nightwalker put a steadying hand on the man's shoulder. "It's so complicated. What happened, essentially, is that a friend of hers, this necromancer, found out that Daye had been infected with some kind of mystical virus. He has some pretty awesome resources at his disposal, I guess, because this man, Marcus Dalton, he managed to cure Daye. But once she was better, she decided to go back to the Council house. She wanted to find out exactly what Delancre was up to and then come back to you all with a plan to stop him. She wanted to try and begin to make up for all the trouble she'd caused."
Nightwalker's voice took on a sad tone. "She blames herself for everything. Daye feels responsible. She thought that perhaps she could stop Delancre or at least find a way to stop him. But, as it turns out, Daye doesn't make a very good spy. Delancre found out the truth and now he's holding her captive. He wants to know how she managed to break free of the Hyde virus and he wants any other useful information she might have. He'll torture her until she breaks," Nightwalker said bleakly, "and once he gets what he wants from her, he'll kill her."
Kate restrained her annoyance enough so that she could breathe properly. She didn’t know why she’d just gone off like that at Drew. She could understand his position: he just wanted the woman he loved back by his side, not that Amanda deserved his loyalty, or his devotion, not after everything she’d put him through. And now their job had been made even harder by Amanda’s damn stupid need to try and put everything right again. Now on top of having to find a cure for Hyde and actually administer it to everyone who was infected, and take on Delancre and his army, now they had to rescue Daye at the same time! Stupid, stupid, STUPID woman!
Kate held her head in her hands for a moment before running them through her long hair in thoughtful contemplation. “Oh, there’s always a way, Drew,” she said calmly wading against the inner raging torrent of emotions that filled her.
*I just don’t know what it is,* she thought miserably. Like she needed this extra pressure. Everyone was already relying on her to come up with a cure for Hyde and without Tash to lead the way… Kate never realized how much she had relied upon that woman’s strength to guide them all. The burden was nearly crushing Kate into oblivion, it was so heavy.
"You aren't alone," Nightwalker said slowly. "If there's some way I can help... I've been in Delancre's service a long time, and I've had training. I was, up until yesterday, still a Captain in the Watchers' Corps. I know the layout of the mansion, and the guard schedules and things like that. I might even know a way to sneak inside. And if there's anything else, anything at all... I know you might not believe me, Mr. Eldridge, Mrs. Eldridge, but I want very much to help. I need to do something."
"What about the others?" Drew asked. "Can't we just muster the troops and storm the place or something? Where are the armies you people always seem to come up with when the world's about to end, huh? I mean, I know this might not be world-ending to anyone else, but it is to me. Can't you dig out your 'Superfriends' hotline or something?"
Kate scoffed at Drew’s facetious comment, “I don’t think barging our way into a house of a powerful mage, full of demonic soldiers ready to do his bidding plus the Slayer is really a sensible idea, even if I had an army to lead, which I don’t. Besides, I think you underestimate just how much damage your dear beloved Amanda has actually done over the past few months - I’m not even sure anyone WOULD help me even if they were in a position to do so.”
"What about this Marcus character?" Nightwalker asked, hoping to diffuse some of the tension by diverting their attention. "Daye said that he was her friend. She spoke highly of him. Perhaps if we could locate him, he might be willing to help. I realize it's a long shot, but what other options do we have? This seems nearly impossible, but I can't sit by and do nothing.
"I can understand your not wanting to put yourself in danger for Daye," he added. "I had an unfortunate encounter with her just before she was cured of this Hyde virus. She was... cold and cruel. I imagine she's alienated just about everyone at this point. The only difference in my case is that, considering the things I did while being manipulated by Delancre, I can in some way feel sorry for her. Believe me, Mrs. Eldridge, I for one am not asking you to do anything that might be distasteful to you or put you in an untenable position. I apologize if you feel that we are putting undue pressure on you."
Drew glanced up at Ryan. He wanted to scream in frustration, but he heard the wisdom in the demon's words. Kate was not at fault here. Amanda should have come home. She should never have gone back to the Council house. He hadn't acknowledged it when Ryan had first told him, but under the worry and sadness there was anger. He was angry at Amanda for putting herself in this kind of danger. He had been taking that out on Kate.
"I... I'm sorry, Kate," he said humbly. "That was wrong of me to say. Of course you're going to do whatever you can. You already said you would."
At the mention of Marcus’s name again Galen glanced at Kate, his hand moving to cover hers, stroking her fingers beneath his own. He knew she’d seen the necromancer a few times over the past couple of weeks despite his reservations. He had no idea who this man was and though he was less than enamored that his wife kept seeing fit to correspond with this stranger he could hardly dictate to her about the kind of company she chose to keep. She might be his wife but she was still very much her own woman.
Kate caught Galen’s eye and she blushed a little at the thoughts in his head before composing herself and turning back to Drew and Ryan. “I understand, Drew,” she said sympathetically, sighing heavily. “You’re right, I did say that I would help… but now I’m giving you my word on that. I promise to do everything that I can to bring Daye back to you.”
Glancing at her husband momentarily, Kate continued. “With regards to Mr. Dalton, it’s not exactly a long shot,” she explained slowly. “At least, I don’t think locating him will be a problem, though whether he helps or not probably depends on just how friendly he and Daye were.”
Drew winced at Kate's cutting remark. There was no way he could ignore the connotation of her words. Of course he knew about Daye and the other men she'd been with. Hadn't he stood below the window of her apartment, his imagination painting too vivid a picture of what was going on just beyond his line of sight? Hadn't he known, instinctively, when Kate spoke of Daye's betrayal that she was speaking from her own bitter experience?
Drew glanced up at Galen, who stood behind his wife's chair, bent forward so that his body almost made a protective shield against this onslaught of emotion Drew had brought into their home.
Drew's face flushed as he gazed upon them. The couple presented a perfect vision of husband and wife, supporting and harboring one another in a time of terrible strain, but Drew could recall how distant from one another they had seemed just after Emma's death. He felt a stab of guilt that it might have been Daye who'd driven a wedge between them. He wanted to apologize for her; to make excuses and beg pardon for Daye's insanity. He wisely kept his mouth shut. It simply wasn't his place.
"Well, we can at least try," Drew finally said. "I will turn away no one, no matter their reasons for helping, if they're willing to help at this point. I don't think we're in a position to be choosy, right?"
Kate could barely even look at Drew, she hadn’t meant to be so blunt about Daye and Marcus. She didn’t even know that anything had happened between them apart from… well, Daye hadn’t exactly been a blushing virgin lately by all accounts. Galen was just one of a long list of casual encounters. Kate looked up at her husband, feeling his hand on her shoulder and sighed.
“Right, Drew. We can’t be choosy, so… I’ll do what I can with Marcus Dalton, see if he’s willing to help.” Kate just hoped he wouldn’t want compensation for his trouble, that was the only problem with mercenaries, though maybe if there had been a thing going on between himself and Daye… well he might feel enough for her to help without needing recompense.
Drew and Nightwalker both nodded decisively. It was good to have the beginnings of a plan anyway.
"Ok... well, is there anyone else left?" Drew asked hopefully. "Anyone else we could ask? I mean, I know the damn Council is out of the question, so... who else do we know?"
“Well, I might be able to convince some of the others,” said Kate after a moment’s thought. She honestly didn’t know if Alessa, Kolya, Reah, Darian and the rest of the White Hats that they’d managed to salvage, along with the other few ‘new members’ would be all that willing to storm down the walls of the Watchers’ Council Headquarters, though she could at least ask even if she wouldn’t beg like Drew.
“As for the Council… not everyone is happy with the way Delancre has been running things over here. In fact, a friend of mine will soon be returning to England to gather a resistance with enough force to at least give that bastard a run for his money.”
Kate shied a little at Drew’s surprised expression. “But that may take some time. There’s no telling how many spies Delancre has amongst the Council back home.”
Drew sighed, a long and frustrated sound. He understood, logically, the need for caution, but what he knew in his head and what he felt in his heart were two very different things. He wanted to say the hell with waiting and rush off to the rescue all by himself if necessary. Every day, every hour, every minute that Delancre held Daye was another moment closer to him cracking her resolve and once that happened, well, Nightwalker had said it earlier, her life would be forfeit.
Besides that ominous threat hanging over their heads, Drew also knew that Delancre was torturing the woman he loved. He could imagine the unspeakable things the man might be doing to her, and the thought made him nearly physically ill. Ryan had described some of the things he'd undergone at the hands of the sadistic bastard and he'd managed to increase Drew's terror a hundred fold by doing so.
"Good, that's good," Nightwalker said. "And as I mentioned before, once we've assembled some sort of force, I'm sure I can get us back into the Council house. I might... it's possible I could even manage to get a small group in and out without anyone being the wiser, if I had some magical support. Or we could stage some sort of distraction for Delancre's pet mages."
“The problem is,” began Kate hesitantly - she didn’t want to rain on their parade but things really wouldn’t be as simple as they were making out, “Delancre has dozens of magical wards in the compound. I couldn’t do that kind of assault on my own… and what with the Hyde virus, mages are thin on the ground right now.” *At least they are in Los Angeles,* thought Kate suddenly. Maybe… if Will was going back to England to talk to the Watchers’ Council…
“You’re right though, we need more magical assistance, especially if we go against the WC Corps…” Kate chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. This wasn’t just about Daye any more but going up against Ambrose and his demonic army. She really didn’t want to have to go begging to Sindell for their assistance but if it was a choice between her pride and their lives there really was no contest. “Leave it with me, I think I can arrange some back up,” she said finally.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, 16th May 2007 – 10am
Tash was towelling herself dry after her morning shower when she heard the knocking at the door. Grimacing, she wondered who it might be. Since she’d been spending most of her time at the mansion, not many of the tenants at Poplar had come to visit her in her apartment. Casting out her senses she picked up the emanations that matched Darian. A somewhat nervous Darian, at that.
Sighing in irritation, she wrapped the towel around her body and went to open the door. She was due to make her second payment of knowledge to Marcus later today and she wanted to look her best. She told herself it was simply because of the dress code at the hotel, but in her heart of hearts she knew she wanted to look nice for Onyx. Her annoyance at this interruption in her preparations made her tone brusque.
“Hello, Darian. What is it?”
“Hey Tash, I umm… Well, do you have a few minutes to talk?”
The woman did not need her psychic powers to know something was bothering the man. His tone, the body language; they practically screamed awkwardness. “I know you’re really busy, and if it’s not a good time, I could come back later. Actually,” his voice suddenly grew firmer, “I really need to talk to you now.”
Resigned to her fate, Tash gestured for Darian to enter. “Fine, but make it quick, okay? I have an appointment for lunch. And…” she gestured to her towel-clad body, “do you mind if I put something on first?”
Not waiting for Darian’s answer, Tash stalked towards her bedroom and threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, not bothering with underwear. She could hear Darian shifting around in the living room and came back out to find him standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. That suited her – she planned to get rid of him as soon as possible, so the less comfortable he was, the better.
“Well?” she asked with arms crossed.
Her abrupt and abnormal behaviour only strengthened his conviction for being here. Too long had he been ignoring everything, instead preoccupied with Cole and his well-being. But now that the boy was better, the fae could no longer turn a blind eye to Tash’s erratic behaviour.
“Tash, what’s going on?” he said simply, drawing a blank look to her face. *Like you don’t know what I’m talking about.*
It was already evident that the conversation would not go well, but still, the man persisted before she could respond. “And I don’t want some bullshit, run around in circles answer. Ever since you... we allied with the Watchers, things have changed.” He took a moment’s pause, allowing the words to sink into his friend. “You’ve changed, and frankly, I’m worried.”
Tash let a smile cross her features. “Well, that’s sweet of you to worry, but I’m fine really. I’m just busy, that’s all. Tired and distracted. I get a little cranky from time to time. Nothing to worry about.”
The fae grimaced; he would not accept that as an answer. “Yeah, it must be exhausting raising an army of zombies,” he cut back immediately. “It’s all around the mansion, people whispering how you gave the undead warriors to Delancre. Some of the people of started calling you the Queen of the Damned.”
Had it been in any other situation, the two might have shared a good laugh at that, but given the circumstances, laughing was the last thing on the man’s mind. “For Christ’s sake Tash, magic like that is dark and very dangerous.”
Tash did laugh then, softly at first but then a little harder at Darian’s look of consternation. “I know, I know,” she said, forcing herself into seriousness again, “it’s not a laughing matter. But Darian, I don’t use any magic. I can’t. I’m not a mage. It’s all long, tedious ritual, that’s all. And why shouldn’t I give Delancre’s forces a boost? After all, we’re out every night fighting the good fight against the vampires. I don’t see you out on patrol with us much.”
Such callous and deliberate maliciousness; that just wasn’t the Tash he knew. “If you weren’t always so busy with God knows what in that mansion, you would know there are other things going on. Cole stripped me of my powers and almost opened a doorway to a hell dimension to find Chance. He could have potentially ended the world, and now he’s pretty fucked up about all that. So sorry I’ve missed a few outings, but I’ve had a few more important things to worry about,” he ended, not bothering to hide the anger that was beginning to stir inside him.
Tash’s eyes narrowed. Oh, this was too much. She’d already had enough of this particular conversation even before it had started, and now Darian had way overstepped his bounds. She’d been well aware when she saw Cole at the mansion that he had done something to Darian – possibly even killed the fae – but really, it didn’t impact her plans especially so why should she be bothered about it? But now here was Darian bleating on as though she should actually give a damn about his petty little concerns, while lecturing her on ethics.
“Fine then. You’re busy with your stuff, and I’m busy with mine,” she said icily. “You go look after Cole, and I’ll do my job. I don’t care if you come on patrol or not, but don’t go yelling at me for trying to fill in the spaces caused by the dead troops when you’re not involved in the fights that killed them in the first place. What gives you the right to tell me what I can and can’t do?”
Darian sighed, realizing how he had been so easily dragged off on a tangent. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, I’m just saying I find it pretty odd that you are creating the very thing we fight against. Undead are undead, whichever way you cut it. And it’s not only the zombies Tash, there are countless other things happening.”
The man thought back to the poor kid being beaten senseless by the Slayer. “Ana brutalised one of the soldiers the other day. The kid was hardly older than Cole. Had I not showed up to stop her, who knows how far it would have gone? Tell me,” he said, disgusted by the memory, “is that what we are about now; allowing defenceless kids to be pounded on, all in the name of ‘the good fight’?”
Tash didn’t want to tell Darian – couldn’t tell Darian – what her plans were for the zombies. She could understand him being concerned about Delancre having their power at his disposal, but that didn’t even seem to be the fae’s main issue. It was almost as though he objected to them on general principle. *Hmph, how ridiculous.* As for the rest…
She shrugged, “What Ana does is her business, I can’t answer for her. Maybe you should be yelling at her instead of me. And I simply can’t understand why you’re so fired up about the damn zombies. They’re only the demon soldiers who signed on in the first place. They’re just completing their contracts. It’s not like they’re rampaging around the countryside – they’re perfectly under control. Trust me, Darian,” she added, saying as much as she dared, which wasn’t much, “those zombies may save your life one day.”
“You know what? Fine. Forget this whole thing: forget I came up here, forget I said any of this!” Darian retorted, and he spun back to the door. “After everything we’ve been through, I trust you, but I guess it’s obvious that trust doesn’t work both ways.”
Tash rolled her eyes. She was heartily sick of babysitting these people. She’d had a couple of months of freedom from delicate egos and sensitive feelings, and she really didn’t want to go back to that.
“Oh, I trust you well enough, Darian,” she sniped, “I trust you to behave like a spoiled brat. Yeah, there’s shit going on all over the place. You reckon I’m too involved to know what else is going on? Well, stop and think just for a second that maybe that goes both ways too. You’re not privy to everything that’s happening in the world around you. Learn to live with it and stop throwing your two-year-old temper tantrums in my living room!”
The slamming of the door was the only response Tash received.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
***Wednesday, 16 May 2007 – 11:05am***
The large city bus slowly came to a full stop, allowing the passengers to disembark.
“This is so early,” Cole yawned, rubbing his red eyes in a desperate attempt to wake up.
The tall man next to him didn’t even react, as he quickly paced down the streets in the direction of ‘The Laughing Dog’. Kate had called late yesterday evening and asked if he could meet her here. There had been an edge to her voice, like something bad had happened, or maybe would happen soon? Who knew really, in LA it seemed like there was an apocalypse every other week. *But why do I have a feeling this is serious?* Darian grimaced, thinking back to the argument he had that very morning with Tash. Recently, too many strange occurrences were taking place, and the fae knew deep down that they were not coincidences; something bad was going down.
The pitter pat of feet sounded from behind as Cole jogged to catch up. “God Darian, would you wait, you’re practically running.” After the fae had told him about going to see Kate, the boy had insisted he come along. The taint of black magic still soaked in his system and he needed to tell someone who was knowledgeable about such things. The tricky part, however, would be to get in a situation where he and Kate could speak freely.
“Well here it is,” Darian said, as they arrived to the busy diner.
Kate had been waiting for a good twenty minutes when she saw Darian arrive with Cole in tow. She hadn’t expected to see the teen but she smiled as the two walked into the diner, their eyes scanning the tables. Kate raised her hand slightly and waved, attracting their attention.
The Laughing Dog was loud and busy, filled with college students who ran in to grab a coffee and doughnut on their way to lectures and pensioners mulling over the early bird special.
*Perfect,* thought Kate to herself as her friends made their way over to the booth she had saved. She’d wanted to avoid yet another party turning up on her doorstep that morning just in case Delancre had any of his spies watching the house. Yet, with the sudden change in plans, not to mention the developments with Ryan, it was imperative that she keep her arranged meeting with Darian.
“Morning… just,” Kate said cheerfully as Darian and Cole slid down on the bench opposite. She eyed Cole’s arm, which was wrapped in a sling, with concern, glancing at Darian uneasily. Kate wondered whether Marcus had finally made his move on the young mage and whether this was the outcome. If so, he’d got off lightly.
Nursing her empty coffee cup, Kate gestured to one of the waitresses and the ordered breakfast. Kate wasn’t particularly hungry but it kept up the pretence that they were friends meeting up for breakfast.
Once the waitress was out of earshot Kate leaned back in the booth, casting a cautious glance around the diner. “Thanks for meeting me here. I didn’t mean for the cloak and dagger routine but things have developed recently, and I didn’t think it was safe for us to meet at my house or Poplar Avenue.”
Kate’s eyes rested on Cole’s injured arm and this time she couldn’t dismiss the feeling of foreboding that lay in her stomach. She’d promised to protect the boy and here he was, hurt. “Are you okay, Cole? What happened?”
“Huh…oh this.” Cole said timidly looking down to his wounded arm. “Someone didn’t really wanna hear my apology. But it’s ok, I get to take it out in like a week or two,” he finished. The woman couldn’t help but notice the boy’s cheeks redden slightly; it was still weird for Cole, having the woman he’d tried to kill worry about him.
“So Kate,” Darian interrupted, feeling his friend’s discomfort, “I figure we may as well jump right into things: what’s going on that we have to meet under these circumstances?”
Kate smiled sadly at Cole, noticing his embarrassment play across his face at her concerned enquiry. In ordinary circumstances she wouldn’t have so easily dismissed his attempt to kill her and the injury he had caused her family. But Cole’s heartfelt grief over his loss had touched her deeply, resonating with her own sorrow so that any resentment she might harbour against the teen was quickly quelled beneath the compassion that she felt for him.
Returning her attention to Darian’s question, Kate schooled her features into something more serious. A lot had happened in the past few days and she had to get Darian and Cole up to speed before she left for England the next day.
“I thought it was time to try and gather a real resistance against our ever vigilant friends in Hollywood Hills,” she said after a moment of silent contemplation. “Considering the current status of the White Hats I thought it would be a good idea to bring in some outside help. A friend of mine came to see me a couple of days ago - his name is William Travers, he’s a director with The Watchers’ Council back in London.”
The two men exchanged bewildered glances, unable to piece together what Kate was talking about. “A small resistance? What are you talking about, Kate? The Watchers in town are working with us to eradicate the vampire population,” Darian responded before taking a small sip of his water.
“I knew they were evil,” Cole said bluntly, shocking the other two. “Well… ummm,” he mumbled shyly, as all eyes turned to him. “I followed a friend to their mansion while I was… well anyway, I felt it. That place is evil.”
Kate nodded at Cole’s statement before redirecting her attention to Darian. She hadn’t realised he was so in the dark about what was going on with Ambrose and his demonic warriors. “But I thought you knew…” she said in surprise, leaning inwards a little, her voice hushed yet calm.
“Ambrose Delancre was the one responsible for Alessa’s kidnapping. This island in Colombia… it’s a genetic research facility, he has a whole team of scientists working on some demonic hybrid warrior project. The troops he has here are brainwashed, conditioned against their will to serve the First Elder, just like the Slayer. He’s planning on taking over the city and then… Hecate only knows what is next on his agenda.”
There was a moment of silence as the words sunk into the fae’s head. *Delancre, the army… the Slayer?* It would have been an understatement to say the news was a tad surprising; sure, Darian had known something was amiss, but never would he have guessed it was as bad as Kate had said. “Those are really serious accusations Kate, are you completely sure?”
Kate paused for a moment as she locked her own eyes with the purple haze of Darian’s. Tash’s words came back to her that she didn’t know who she could trust any more and Kate felt a slight pang of paranoia creep up from her stomach. Could Darian be trusted? Had he been drawn too far into Delancre’s world? Kate couldn’t be sure apart from the fact that he had shown nothing but honest forgiveness and love towards Cole; it was worth the risk she decided. Besides, she needed Darian’s powers to help fight against the First Elder.
“I have it from Tash’s mouth plus I have proof… someone within the Council was investigating Delancre months before he even came to Los Angeles. He collected physical evidence about his offences, until he was murdered.”
Darian rubbed his eyes desperately trying to sort everything out in his head. This was bad, really bad, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out it was only about to get worse. “I saw Tash this morning, and she was definitely not herself. Ever since she’s been working with them she’s changed, so I don’t know how much you can trust her word about this.”
It pained him to talk of his friend this way, but after everything that had happened, and the events that occurred only this morning, he couldn’t help but see Tash in a new light. “She’s even delved into dark magic, Kate,” he frowned, hoping the conversation was not too troublesome for Cole. “She’s somehow managed to raise zombies to use as soldiers for the Watchers’ Council. What if she’s working with Delancre, and is just playing all of us for fools?”
Kate was astounded at Darian’s revelation. She knew that Tash had all that knowledge of Ohenewaa rattling around in that brain of hers, but so far she’d hardly even thought of touching it. And there was another, more weighty implication behind all this - if Tash wasn’t working for Delancre why did she need all those zombies? Were they just a part of her plan to overthrow the First Elder? Or was it part of something altogether more sinister? *And just where did Tash get the power to be able to enact such a rite anyway?* thought Kate suspiciously.
“Tash has the virus,” stated Kate plainly. “I’d like to say that she’s still one of us but until I find the cure I wouldn’t trust her as far as I can throw her. But what she told me was the truth, even if she was holding back on the rest. I don’t believe that she is entirely loyal to Delancre, though she’s put on a terrific show so far. But what her REAL motives are for playing the dutiful lap dog...”
Kate let her sentence remain unfinished. She shuddered to think what Tash’s true motives for undermining Delancre might be, but she was certain it wasn’t for the greater good. The news about her raising an army of zombies just added more credence to her doubts. Darian was right, she HAD changed; whether it was the virus or the aftermath of her grief over losing Victor which was driving her on, Kate didn’t know.
Right now that didn’t matter. Tash was far removed from the White Hats and even if she was against Delancre that didn’t mean that they were still on the same side. Either way, Kate preferred to err on the side of caution.
“Well I know a way to get rid of the virus from people,” Cole piped up, “but it involved the Seal of Lasarna, and well… you destroyed it,” he finished lamely, realising there was not much point to what he had said. “So forget that option I guess.”
“That Seal was bad, so it’s probably for the best, Cole. But don’t worry, we’ll find a way to help everyone,” Darian responded, trying to be as reassuring as he could. In reality however, could they help everyone? If the Watchers were evil, and half of the White Hats were crazed on the virus, then the good guys were grossly outnumbered. *We have to try,* he reaffirmed to himself, before turning his attention back to Kate.
“We have to know who is still with us, and who’s against us. After that, I guess we can come up with a plan to…” he stopped, not sure exactly what the plan would entail. Sure, he knew they had to cure the infected, but what then? Would they make an all out attack on the Watchers? That would surely be suicide.
“There’s more…” said Kate carefully, not really wanting to pile all this onto of Darian who looked pretty freaked out as it was. “Amanda is in trouble, she was infected with the virus too but managed to cure herself…” Kate sighed, okay so it was Marcus who cured her but she couldn’t get into all that right now.
“Anyway, she took it upon herself to try and play spy up at the compound and she got herself caught. Now Ambrose is torturing her to find out how she cured herself… I agreed to help organise a rescue party but I need help.” She paused a moment to let that all sink in before continuing. She knew there was no love lost between herself and Amanda, virus or no virus, but she also knew she had to help save her from Delancre’s clutches. She was in an unenviable position and she didn’t like having to entreat on Drew’s behalf to her friends either.
“I’m going to England tomorrow to try and gather back up from my old coven. But I need people here to sit on this until I return. It could get nasty; Delancre has spies everywhere and I don’t want to put anyone in danger but… I need help.”
“You know you can count on me,” Darian assured.
Cole fidgeted nervously, overwhelmed by the grandeur of the story. “I want to help also.”
A grimace appeared on the fae’s face. “I don’t think so.” Cole had already been through so much these last few months that Darian was not going to let him partake in any dangerous undercover ops. “Well, if there are as many spies out there as you think, maybe we should be on our way as not to look to suspicious. But don’t worry Kate, when you get back, I’ll be ready to go along with whatever we decide to do.”
Cole followed Darian as he slid from the booth and prepared to leave. Inwardly, he was slightly pissed at the fae’s over protectiveness, but worse than that was the fact he didn’t get a chance to speak to Kate one on one.
*You don’t need her help, you can get through this alone,* he tried to tell himself as he forced a smile to his face. “Well, bye Kate. Be careful in England.”
Kate’s smile saddened at the dejected look on Cole’s face. It was obvious that he’d wanted to talk to her without Darian being present but there seemed little chance of that happening. She could guess at his design. The powers he had invoked had been strong and darkly tempting, and Kate guessed that the teen might be having a tough time ignoring their lure.
She nodded, kindly accepting his well wishes but before he ran off to catch up to Darian she quickly grabbed his hand. “Cole,” she said softly, looking deeply into his blue eyes, “be okay, you’re stronger than you think… We all are…”
At first the boy didn’t understand, but the meaning of Kate’s words quickly dawned on him. With a slight smile and nod, the boy turned back around, that much more confident that he would be ok.
We're All Going on a Summer Holiday...
Wednesday, 16 May 2007 – 2:32pm – Kate and Galen’s House
Kate sighed as she went through her checklist, ticking off the items that she’d packed and looking through what she still had to do. She felt a little better after speaking to Darian. It was good to know that she could rely on him to take care of things in her absence, and seeing Cole again after everything that had happened made her feel that maybe something good could still be salvaged from all this mess.
Galen poked his head into the bedroom, glancing at the neat piles of clothes that Kate had arranged on the bed next to her case. They’d discussed her decision to return to England with William Travers and to try to entreat the Coven of Sindell to lend her a small force with which to bring down Ambrose Delancre. All in all it was an ambitious plan, he had to admit that, even if it did seem like a long shot.
“Almost done?” he asked cheerfully as he walked into the room, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
Kate looked up from her checklist. “Oh… I don’t know, there just seems so much to do and I leave tomorrow morning and I still have to explain everything to Nikolai…”
“You mean, ‘we’…” said Galen softly, walking up to Kate and taking the list from her hands and placing it on the bed. He laced his fingers around hers, looking up into her eyes. “You mean, we leave tomorrow morning.”
Kate’s eyes suddenly brightened and she couldn’t stop a grateful smile from spreading across her face. “We… You’re coming with me?” she asked tentatively as though she might have misunderstood his meaning.
Galen mirrored Kate’s smile, holding her hands tighter. “Was there ever any doubt? You didn’t really think I’d let you go through all this on your own did you?”
“But… but what about work?” Kate’s brow furrowed into a concerned frown. “What about the others?”
“They’ve given me so much time off work recently I think they’ll be happy that I’m making my absence official for once. As for the others…” Galen loosened one of his hands and wrapped it low around Kate’s waist, resting in the small of her back. “The only person I care about in all this is you and you’re the one who needs me right now. You don’t fool me Kate, pretending that all this… you going back to the coven… that it’s all going to be easy. It’ll be tough, we both know it will, and I don’t want to send you into all that on your own. I don’t want to and I won’t. I’m coming with you and I’ll be by your side the whole time.”
Kate squeezed Galen’s hand firmly, bringing it up to her lips and kissing his fingers lovingly. “You really are the most amazing man in the world, aren’t you?” Kate wrapped her arms around Galen’s neck, enclosing him in a loving embrace and resting her chin on his shoulder. She had been putting a brave face on things, trying not to think of what she had to do because… deep down she really hadn’t wanted to face it all by herself.
Galen held Kate closely. He’d known she’d wanted him to go with her but hadn’t wanted to pressure him into anything. He gently rubbed his cheek against her hair, revelling in that wonderful scent that was entirely hers. “Besides…” he chuckled, trying to lighten the moment, “you, me alone in a castle in the middle of the English countryside-”
Kate laughed, pulling back a little so that she could look at the wonderful, caring, generous, handsome man she had been so lucky to marry. “You mean, you, me and a couple hundred witches alone in a castle in the English countryside.”
Galen laughed again, wrapping his arms low around Kate’s waist again. “Sounds like a vacation compared to this place right now.”
Kate Enlists Nikolai's Help
***Wednesday, 16 May 2007 – 4:00pm – Kate and Galen’s House***
Kate was busy packing up her research and books when she heard a knock on the door. She glanced at her wristwatch and smiled; Nikolai was as punctual as ever. She finished placing a particularly delicate crystal amulet into a small padded box, closing the lid carefully before making her way to answer the front door.
She had wanted to talk to her Russian friend for a specific purpose. If she could convince him to also help in Amanda’s rescue then his background in undercover ops would be particularly useful, especially now since Galen was also accompanying her to England to entreat the Coven of Sindell for assistance.
Smiling again, Kate opened the door to greet her friend.
Nikolai smiled when the door opened. Despite the difficulties that might arise between them when he shifted between being a criminal and merely being crazy, he found himself more willing to do whatever he could to help out Kate. She’d not told him exactly what this was about, which told him that she was being careful and so expected things to get rather… interesting.
“Katya, good afternoon,” he said as the door swung open. A quick glance around the living room revealed a suitcase sitting out. *She must be getting ready to go contact those allies,* he thought as she let him in the house. “What’s up?”
Kate led the way back to the kitchen where she continued to pack her things away. She had such little time. Her flight left early the next morning and aside from packing she’d had to contact Sindell to forewarn them of her arrival, not to mention rallying the troops. At least her talk with Darian and Cole had gone off without a hitch. She hadn’t realised it would be so easy to gather allies with all the trouble that had gone on lately; it seemed like everyone was desperate to make amends one way or another.
“There’s been a… development,” said Kate, taking a moment to light the stove and set a kettle in place for tea. “That friend in the Watchers’ Council I mentioned? He came to see me a few days ago with some interesting news about our dear Lord Delancre.”
She continued to load books and other trinkets into a small packing case, careful to arrange things in a semblance of order so that she wouldn’t have to reorganise everything once she arrived in England.
Rather than go through everything herself, Kate removed the leather-bound journal that Will had entrusted her with, laying it on the table in front of Nikolai. “It makes stimulating reading I can tell you…” At the man’s confused look Kate added, “I’ve marked the more… interesting passages…”
Nikolai accepted the journal, skimming through the pages and stopping whenever he came across one of Kate’s ‘more interesting passages’. That description proved to be an understatement. It was everything that they’d thought and worse. Some worry about Alessa grew as he read the descriptions of some of the techniques being employed by Ambrose Delancre to ensure the loyalty of his troops.
“You are sure that he did not just copy a history of the KGB?” Nikolai joked morbidly. It was tempting to vomit at a couple of the passages. Kate could say what she liked about the mob but at least they only killed their own.
“It is like the Yezhovschina – the Great Purges, you call them – all over again.”
He snapped the book shut with a great deal of finality, not really wanting to go on in his reading, looking at Kate with some of the old him showing through, the one who was utterly horrified at the depths of evil man could sink to. “How could the Council ever put their faith in such a man?”
Kate sighed as she poured hot water into a china teapot and left it to brew. “I know,” she said darkly. “It’s why we need back up, now more than ever. The army that Delancre has here in Los Angeles is just a sample of what he has waiting back on Isla Nublada.” Kate’s eyelids drooped as she recalled the events of earlier that morning and the promise she had made to Drew. “And there’s… something else too.”
She turned her back as she poured out the tea into two cups. “I had a visit from Drew this morning, you know Amanda’s fiancée, right?” Kate didn’t wait for a reply as she stirred in a spoonful of honey into Koyla’s tea; the Russian had quite a sweet tooth. “Our suspicions about Daye contracting the virus were correct. Somehow she managed to cure herself and got it into her mind that she could somehow deceive Delancre into finding out his plans.”
Kate returned to the table and sat down, placing the cup of hot, sweet tea in front of her friend. “Of course she got caught and now she needs our help.” Kate ran an uneasy hand through her hair, a weary sigh escaping her lips though she masked it as an attempt to cool her tea.
“Drew’s distraught, it seems that despite all this…” Kate shook her head dismally. “I promised to help him, but I can’t do this on my own, Koyla. I know Amanda did some terrible things to you so if you want no part of this I’ll understand, but I really need your help. I don’t know who else to turn to.”
Nikolai considered her words carefully, putting down the teacup after taking a sip. He still did hurt from what Daye had tried to do to him, and when they had done business, was always too polite with her. If it had been anyone else asking him for help in this matter, he would have said no and walked out. “I will do whatever I can,” he said.
The Russian shook his head. Daye with the virus would explain her actions, but if that brief time he’d met her before was any indication, he wasn’t surprised that she’d got caught. *Perhaps Alessa has better reason to remain infected than we thought.* “Do we know where she is being kept or what Comrade Delancre is doing with her?”
Kate smiled gratefully at Nikolai’s concordance to help her and nodded in response to his question. “She’s being held at the Watchers’ Compound. When Delancre found out that she’d been cured he determined to find out how… by any means necessary.” Kate didn’t feel the need to explain any further, after reading Jimmy Han’s notes on the goings on at Isla Nublada Nikolai didn’t need any examples of what the First Elder was capable of.
“The thing is,” continued Kate sombrely, “that mansion is filled with magical wards and there’s no way that I can penetrate their shields on my own.” She cast an eye to the half-filled packing case. “That’s kind of the reason behind all this… I’m going to England tomorrow to try and convince my old coven elders to supply me with a small battalion. The witches at Sindell are very powerful, even if they only allow me a handful from their warrior circle it should be more than enough to be able to lower Delancre’s wards without alerting them to our presence.”
Kate could hardly hide her nervousness and anxiety any longer. Her whole ‘plan’ such as it was, was made up entirely of ‘if’s’. IF the coven granted her their support, IF she could convince enough of the White Hats to join the battle, IF she could secure the aid of Marcus… She knew that last would possibly prove more difficult than anything else would and though she felt loath to request the assistance of a mage of his particular guild it seemed there was little other choice. Without an adept warrior such as Tash or Reah there was no one else that she felt confident enough in their abilities to be able to pull off such an operation. There were just certain things that Kate knew she wouldn’t be able to do if the worst came to the worst.
Kate sighed, brushing aside her concerns for the moment. If Marcus refused she’d find the strength from somewhere to do what had to be done. She had made a promise after all, and she wasn’t about to back down from that.
“The thing is, I was hoping that you might be able to formulate a plan to get us in there, maybe some sort of distraction to take place to take the heat off us. There’s someone I want you to meet. He’ll be staying here while I’m away, I think he’ll be of tremendous use to you.”
Nikolai would have choked on his tea at the information overload had he not been distracted by Kate’s worry. Things would be very risky in doing this and there would be enough unknown variables to worry about with them holding Daye at the Watchers’ Compound.
“Don’t worry, Katya. We’ll think of something and will have the element of surprise on our side - he will never be expecting us to raid his mansion.”
Old habits died hard, and he immediately began thinking like a spy again. There would be two things of utmost importance to account for: the resources they had available and distribution of enemy resources. No fortification was without its weaknesses. Wards would be a good start, but then there would be the entire army to deal with, probably on patrol.
“I think I can help - be just like the old days except for trying to save a life instead of take one.” He smiled at the thought. Even though his training and practice was in assassination, the same principles applied to infiltrate and escape undetected. Or at the very least, to remain undetected long enough to escape. “There’s a guy in city planning who owes us a favour or two, so we can at least get the plans to the mansion from the city.”
He studied Kate carefully. Her emotional state was chaotic enough that he could tell she was trying to juggle about fifteen things at once. “Here, let me help you with packing,” he offered, walking over to the boxes that sat out. “While we pack, you can tell me about this guy who’ll be staying here - and I assume you’ve made arrangements to make it look like you’re still here while you’re gone?”
*For all the good it’ll do,* thought Kate as she placed a small case of potion bottles into the trunk. They contained all the samples she had made so far. She was sure that if she could convince Christian and Hestia to listen to her they would allow her to use coven resources to finalise the work that she had started on the cure.
“I’ve strengthened the wards on this place. It’ll be well protected, hopefully enough to prevent Delancre or his spies form detecting that anything is amiss.” *Though he won’t be fooled for long.* Kate was quite worried on that score actually. If the First Elder was tracking their moves then going to England would be like walking straight into the lion’s den. There was no way of knowing if Delancre’s influence stretched to Sindell and if it did no manner of wards would stop him from finding out about her plans.
“You must be careful too, Koyla,” Kate said thoughtfully, “I doubt Delancre was fooled by the reasons behind our sudden change of heart. If he decides that we’re getting too close or that we pose any kind of threat to his plans…”
Kate looked worried as she packed a few more books. “Just be careful okay?” she urged, suddenly taking Koyla’s hand tightly, “I don’t want to lose any more of my friends.”
Nikolai gently squeezed back, wishing that he could find something to say to put her more at ease without sounding overconfident. The problem was that her worry made sense, far too much sense. What they desperately needed at the moment was a mole, someone on the inside who could actually give them warning of something happening. “You be careful too,” he finally said.
Still he would keep up the pretence that Kate was still in LA until forced to do so, and would make sure to only discuss the plans when in her house. At least then he would have the protection of whatever wards she could offer. “What we really need though is a double agent. That would help us a great deal.”
Kate nodded, sitting back down as the packing was completed. “That man I was talking about, the one I wanted you to talk to. He used to be the Captain in charge of Delancre’s demon warriors.”
At Nikolai’s shocked and slightly wary expression Kate continued. “His name is Ryan, he used to be Amanda’s lover a long time ago when she lived in Ireland until Delancre tested out his brainwashing techniques on him…” Kate paused, thinking about everything that Ryan had put them through all those years ago. He’d almost killed her - all of them - and yet it seemed that he’d been nothing more than another dupe in Delancre’s plan to get hold of Amanda.
Kate shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Lately it seemed like no one was expected to be held accountable for their actions… except herself. “It’s a long story,” she sighed, “and not one that I want to relive, suffice to say that Ryan is on our side now. He has an in-depth knowledge of the layout of the compound and of guard rosters. Whatever you need to know, he’ll tell you if he can.”
Nikolai really was shocked, he had wanted a double agent and as far as they went, Ryan really was in the perfect position. It seemed almost too good to be true, even though he could still feel some of Kate’s unease at the situation.
He would take her word for it if Ryan was to be trusted, but all the same would still be a bit wary. “That will help a great deal, actually.” No doubt Delancre would have implemented at least some rudimentary changes in his security if he knew about Ryan’s defection. The man would be a fool not to, and everything they’d seen of Delancre so far screamed that he was too smart for his own good. Then he smiled, unable to resist the joke. “Would you like to wait in the van with the headset to direct the operation this time?”
Kate smiled but shook her head. “Oh I’m afraid I’ll be going along for the rescue this time, there's no telling what state Amanda will be in when we find her. Delancre has proved himself particularly adept at mind manipulation and I very much doubt Amanda will be able to fend his attacks off for long.”
She paused a little, pursing her lips together in thought. If Nikolai was going to plan this assault he’d need to know everything that was in the pipeline. “I was thinking of just a small party to go in after Amanda. We’ll need to keep the numbers down so that we can move undetected. I’ll leave the specifics up to you though. There’s someone else who may be able to help… but I’ve still got to talk to him about that. Hopefully…” *hopefully,* “I’ll be able to ‘make him an offer he can’t refuse’.” Kate smiled in an attempt to hide her uncertainty on that score. “Isn’t that what you Mafia types say?”
Nikolai tried to avoid laughing at being reminded of the stereotype. With technology the way it was, that was about as vague as they were liable to be. “Only if you can pull off the Al Pacino look.” Then he suddenly turned serious again. A small group made sense and was what he’d use. “Who’s already in, do you know?”
“So far? You, myself, Ryan… without sounding cruel I doubt Drew would be much use in there against all those adepts…” *Galen too if I’m being honest,* thought Kate reproachfully. As much as she loved her husband and as skilled as he was she didn’t want him going up against Delancre’s mages and his warrior corps.
“Darian too, and Cole,” added Kate thoughtfully. “Like I said there’s someone else I need to talk to, he’s pretty powerful in… ummm, necromancy. I wouldn’t normally ask but I think we’re going to need someone with his particular expertise…”
Nikolai felt a twinge of guilt at the mention of Cole’s name, having put the wheels in motion to give him a beating. Only one didn’t tend to refuse a favour from a powerful necromancer without… necromancer?
“Don’t tell me his last name is Dalton,” Nikolai said, before noticing Kate’s surprised look. “You don’t want to know how I know him, trust me on this. But our debts are even, so…”
“You know Marcus?” Kate shook her head. “Of course you do… that’s the way things work around here right?” Kate rose from her chair, sighing a little. There was really only one reason anyone sought out the expertise of a necromancer like Marcus and they both knew what it was though they remained equally silent on that respect. Kate had no desire to bring up her deplorable attempt to try to bring back her daughter from the dead and Nikolai was right, she really DIDN’T want to know why he’d gone looking for his services. *Marcus Dalton, you certainly put yourself around, don’t you?* she thought silently.
Sitting back down, Kate schooled her features into something much more composed than she actually felt. Talking about Marcus always made her feel somewhat on edge and even more so now. She had called Onyx earlier to arrange a ‘meeting’ for that evening. She just hoped that her powers of negotiation wouldn’t let her down this time.
“Yes well, then you know what kind of power he has access to. I think he would be a valuable asset to our exploits so long as his price isn’t too high. Either way,” said Kate with a dismissive wave of her hand, “I’ll call you tonight and let you know what his decision is. I leave early tomorrow morning so I’m afraid there won’t be time for further discussion, though I’ll leave a contact number with Jack. Though considering the possible security risk I’d only advise making contact if it’s very important.”
Nikolai nodded in understanding, security was always something that it was worth being paranoid about in planning this kind of operation. “With luck, by the time you’re back we’ll have a plan and more resources,” he assured her, gratefully leaving the subject of Dalton aside.
“For right now though, just let me know what I can do around here,” he said, looking at the disorganisation that always came with packing.
“Oh don’t worry,” said Kate with an air of confidence that really didn’t fit with the unease she felt inside. “I actually think I might have things under control for once.”
Kate asks for Marcus' Help
***Wednesday, May 16 2007 - 7:10pm – The Peninsula Beverly Hills Hotel ***
Kate glanced at Drew as his eyes fixed on the elevator doors as they slowly ascended. He hadn’t really said all that much since she’d picked him up earlier that night. His eyes looked weary and slightly anxious as though he was trying to prepare himself for what he might find out that night. Kate couldn’t help but feel guilty about that. Drew had the appearance of a puppy that had been kicked one too many times and she’d not even thought that her flippant remarks might add to his misery.
“Drew…” she said softly, reaching out and taking his hand in hers, squeezing it tightly, “don’t do anything rash, okay? Things will work out somehow.”
Drew nodded, smiling weakly at Kate for a single moment before that same worn apprehensive expression returned. He wasn’t convinced by Kate’s platitudes but he appreciated them nevertheless. After what Daye had done to her he was just thankful that she was willing to help him. He didn’t know what he’d have done otherwise.
“Marcus is powerful but we can do this without him, okay?” added Kate though her voice held little enthusiasm for that alternative, but the talking helped to ease the tension if nothing else. As she continued to hold Drew’s hand supportively she noticed how his fingers trembled slightly, though she didn’t know if it was with anger or fear but the look in his eyes clearly reflected his inner determination. He was going to get Daye back if it was the last thing he did. Kate felt quite saddened at that realisation. Drew really did love Daye, despite her transgressions and no matter how much she hurt him. The fact that he was willing to go begging for help from one of her potential lovers was proof of that.
The elevator took that moment to stop with a slight jolt, and as the doors slid open Kate led the way, pausing momentarily to turn back to Drew, fixing him with a willful stare. “Just… let me do the talking okay?” she said before knocking solidly on the door.
Marcus walked to the door. He had no doubt it was Kate. Onyx would have intercepted anyone else. She had rung earlier saying only that it was important that she talk to him. He’d acquiesced but he hoped he wasn’t about to be dragged into one of Kate’s causes. He’d hate to disappoint the witch.
Marcus opened the door to his suite and looked at Kate then glanced disconcertedly towards the man who stood just behind her. He frowned a little. Who was this? Galen come to check his wife’s friends himself? “Hello Kate.”
Kate smiled brightly, not entirely sure how she was going to play this one. Though they had defined their association in terms of friendship she imagined that what she considered a friend and what Marcus considered a friend were two entirely different definitions. Still Kate couldn’t help but feel slightly amused at the man’s circumspect assessment of Drew.
“Hello Marcus,” she returned lightly. “Are you going to invite us inside, or should we conduct our introductions in the hallway?”
“Of course, I’m sorry. Come in, both of you.” Marcus walked down the shirt corridor into the main lounge then turned to face his guests. “Please have a seat. Could I get either of you two a drink?”
Kate let Drew sit but she continued standing and would remain so as long as Marcus did. “I’m okay but maybe…” She turned to Drew who looked considerably annoyed at their act of politeness. It was obvious he just wanted to get to business as soon as possible. Every minute they wasted was another added to Daye’s suffering.
“But of course, where are my manners?” said Kate, turning back to Marcus uneasily. This was the part she didn’t want to do though it was inevitable of course. “Marcus… this is Drew Langley… I believe you are acquainted with his fiancée Amanda?”
*Why couldn’t it have been Galen?* Marcus gave the man he had unwittingly cuckolded a nod. “Mr Langley.” Marcus decided to sit down. “You said this was important, Kate?”
Kate noticed the slight rise in tension as she also sat down. She glanced at Drew who was waiting for her to explain as she had said she would. “Indeed it is,” she answered, pacing herself for what was to come. “It concerns Amanda, why we are here. In light of your particular… relationship I, we thought you might consider helping us. I don’t know if you’re aware of the presence of the First Elder of The Watchers’ Council here in Los Angeles?”
He shouldn’t have let her go back. Not with that Watcher hanging on her every move and word. Still he’d told her he wouldn’t help if it went wrong and now Kate was here; presuming on his relationship with Amanda and her own friendship.
“Ambrose Delancre. First Elder of the Watchers. Yes, I am aware he’s in the city.”
Marcus knew his next words were both ingenuous and unworthy but Kate should have known better. “What would Daye have to do with the man?”
Drew’s head snapped to attention as the man used her nickname. Only friends, close friends, called her Daye. Though he had been under no illusions about her relationship with this man, having it more or less confirmed was still a bitter pill to swallow, especially on top of everything else.
Kate could sense Drew’s hurt and it cut into her deeply but she pushed it aside and continued. She could tell that Marcus knew more than he was letting on but if he wanted to play dumb she would indulge him.
“It seems Daye has been infected with a virus for a long time now… apparently when you cured her she got it into her head that she had to go off and atone for her sins – namely going to Delancre’s stronghold and play spy. Only Daye isn’t as good a liar as she’d like to pretend she is and now Delancre has her and is torturing her until he finds out how you managed to cure her.”
The look on Drew’s face at Marcus’ barb had hit home and was enough for Marcus to avoid a repetition. “And you think that means I should help you save her from her own ineptitude?” Marcus shook his head. “I’m sorry, Kate, but I told Amanda when she suggested this fool’s errand I wouldn’t help her if it went wrong on her.”
In the circumstances that wasn’t entirely true. The Watchers were up to very strange things and he had no desire to see Onyx in their hands. He did, however, want to start from as strong a bargaining position as possible.
Kate could tell this was going to be tough. Marcus was being the very picture of cool aloofness and her position wasn’t made any easier by the fact that she was conflicted herself over her feelings and motives for wanting to help her friend. She didn’t want Daye to be hurt no matter what she had done to her, but part of her just bridled at the thought that she would have to beg and barter to get anyone to help her. Kate didn’t want to have to lower herself to that level, not for Amanda, not when she would very much like to slap her in the face right now for the immense distress she’d put everyone in just because she wanted to feel better about herself.
“Oh, of course not Marcus, I wouldn’t dream of asking you to help merely out of the kindness of your heart…” *Because that would be assuming you had one.* “But Ambrose Delancre is an immensely powerful and dangerous man. He’s a threat, even to you - whether you chose to believe that or not. I imagine that if a man of your talents hasn’t been brought to his attention soon, it’s just a matter of time.”
*I have a heart Kate, but unlike you I won’t let someone use it against me…* Still, Kate did have a point. Iif Daye was being tortured then she would tell Delancre everything, probably sooner rather than later too. Daye had already been fragile after the ordeal her mothers had imposed on her. That would reveal the origin of not just her cure but her immunity. Delancre would no doubt be unhappy that his little virus was now useless and the last confrontation between the Council and the Daltons hadn’t gone in the Daltons’ favour.
“So you feel that pre-emptively revealing myself to the man would help the situation?”
“What’s the point in hiding?” asked Kate diplomatically. “If he doesn’t know about you yet that works in our favour. Besides… I’m not asking you to go up there, knock on the front door and introduce yourself…”
“Please, Mr Dalton!” cried Drew suddenly, unable to remain silent any longer. “You have to help us. Delancre… he’ll torture Amanda until she breaks and then when she’s no use to him, he’ll kill her. You might not care whether she lives or dies, but I do! I love her and I’ll do anything to save her, even come here and beg you for your help.”
Marcus favoured Drew with a cold look. “The world has a way of disappointing beggars, Mr Langley.” *Amanda was going to marry this…this…* Marcus couldn’t quite describe his opinion of Drew right now but it was not in the least favourable.
“I’d be willing to assist you in engineering Amanda’s escape from Delancre’s evil clutches.” Marcus watched hope blossom on Drew’s face and despite his opinion of the man felt an utter heel when he crushed it. “For a price of course.”
“Of course,” said Kate, taking over again as Drew’s hopeful expression suddenly faded and he looked at her with pleading eyes. Kate had expected this, of course. Marcus wasn’t in the habit of doing favours - she had found that out when she had stupidly appealed for his mercy on behalf of Cole.
“Do you have a price in mind, Marcus?” she asked coolly, relaxing back a little in her seat though relaxed was the last thing she felt in Marcus Dalton’s presence even at the best of times.
Marcus glanced between Drew and Kate. Unfortunately he wasn’t sure what he wanted from these two. *Langley…* Marcus frowned. He’d heard the name before, he was sure. Marcus snapped his fingers. “Drew Langley.” Marcus turned to face the man. “Professor Drew Langley. The UCLA parapsychology program?” Marcus had checked them out. You found all sorts of oddballs in such programs and sometimes an out and out magician.
At the hesitant nod he got in reply Marcus hid a smile and thought furiously. There were more than a few objects that found their way into one university collection or another. He didn’t know if UCLA had anything but if it did no doubt it had been forgotten by just about everyone. He’d have to check a few dig reports and such but he was quite certain Drew could be useful to him.
“I’ll have to do some research, Professor Langley, but I’m sure you can help me. Archaeological expeditions are always unearthing interesting cultural trinkets. The Parapsychology group is attached to anthropology, correct?”
“That’s right,” nodded Drew, glancing warily at Kate who was sitting quietly observing the necromancer. “W-would that be…?” Drew paused. If this man was suggesting what he thought he was it could cost him his job, his career… but it was a price he was more than willing to pay if it meant saving his beloved Amanda. “What ever you want… anything…”
“You’ll get what you want,” interrupted Kate quickly before Drew offered something he couldn’t take back. “So, do we have a deal? Your help in rescuing Amanda in exchange for your ‘interesting cultural trinket’?”
Marcus squashed an impulse to smile. He didn’t want carte blanche with Drew. There was, after all, an element of self-preservation in all this. He’d have to remember that when he and the professor discussed the details of his payment. In that at least Kate had served the man well, preventing him from voicing a response Marcus knew he’d be hard pushed not to take advantage of.
“I’m sure Drew and I can discuss the necessary details once Amanda is back in safe hands, but yes Kate, I will help you.”
Drew released a sigh of relief, vocalising his gratitude while Kate merely nodded silently in accord. She couldn’t help but feel galled by Marcus’ attitude in all this. Of course she’d expected him to want payment for his services, that was just the way he worked. But for some reason his cool disdain and almost eager willingness to take advantage of their situation and in particular Drew, the man whose fiancée he had been screwing around with, made her believe that she had made several glaring errors when she had first judged his character. Errors that made her believe that her father’s hasty assessment had not been so far off the mark after all.
Realising that fact made Kate feel incredibly saddened. She had expected much more from Marcus as both a man and a friend and suddenly she was left wanting on both counts. With a weary sigh she rose to her feet, trying to hide her underlying disappointment behind another of her frivolous smiles.
“Then I think we’ve taken up enough of your time, Marcus,” she said with a glance at Drew. “I’ll be in contact soon to make arrangements.”
Marcus watched disappointment shade Kate’s face and pondered if he had been too generous with her in the past. Given her too much as a ‘friend’. He realised she felt he should just have agreed to help without a moment’s thought, but even for a friend that wasn’t something Marcus would or could do.
He had been a friend when he told Daye not to go back to Delancre’s mansion but he would not rush to her rescue after she’d ignored that advice. He’d extract a measure of payment for Daye’s foolishness. Whatever Kate thought about that.
“Yes, by all means,” he said coolly as he showed them out. “I’ll be waiting.”
Kate and Galen Leave for England
***Thursday, May 17 2007 – 9:23am – Kate and Galen’s House***
“Kate, come on!” shouted Galen up the stairs as he stood in the hallway surrounded by luggage. “If you don’t hurry we’ll miss the check-in deadline.”
“I’m coming!” shouted back Kate as she came running down the stairs, her long red curls bouncing up and down as she ran. “Oh gods, this is a nightmare,” she moaned, checking through her documents one last time. “Tickets, passports… copy of Raynok’s Fire and Purgatory…”
“Just a little light reading for the flight, huh?” laughed Galen as he took her bags. Along with the rest of their things Kate had also packed her research on the Hyde virus cure, hoping that maybe someone at the Coven of Sindell might be able to help her to speed up the process.
“We’re meeting Will at the airport,” reminded Kate absently, ignoring Galen’s joke as she ran through the preparations in her head. The last twelve hours had been frantic, though at least she’d managed to finally get through to the Coven and let them know that she would be arriving, informing them briefly on why she was coming and at such short notice. She just hoped that she would be able to convince them to offer their assistance; her powers of persuasion had certainly been waning lately if her meeting with Marcus last night had been any indication.
“I know, I know,” insisted Galen, dodging his wife as she flew past him in a whirlwind of organised chaos. “Oh heck,” he moaned as the taxi honked its horn from outside. “Kate, come on!” he urged, following her into the kitchen as she breezed from room to room checking everything from the bills that needed paying to the amount of Dragon’s Root she’d packed. “We have to leave!”
The Nightwalker stood next to the counter in the corner of Kate's brightly-lit kitchen, sipping from a mug of coffee and feeling completely out of place. He had been feeling that way ever since Kate had convinced her husband and father to let him stay in their home. He understood both men's reticence. Nightwalker had had unfortunate dealings with them both in the past. He also appreciated Kate's reluctant willingness to open her home to him. He had treated her shabbily in the past as well, but she'd graciously put that aside to offer him refuge, and that amazed Nightwalker.
For the first time in a long time, he was able to see what life was supposed to be like. These people, with their amazing abilities and connections, still faced the everyday, common place troubles of so-called normal people. Like rushing to the airport.
Nightwalker envied them this life, this bit of normalcy. Ever since Delancre had decided to use him in the sick game he was playing with Daye's life, Nightwalker had been apart from things like this. He couldn't keep the smile from his face as he watched Galen try to hustle his wife out of the house.
“Ryan?” Kate said softly, noticing the demon’s melancholy as he leaned against the counter drinking his hot coffee with a wistful glaze to his eyes. She had to admit that she was still a little wary around him but it was like he was a completely different demon to the Ryan she had known before and she couldn’t help but feel sympathetic towards him, much to Jack and Galen’s combined exasperation. When she had suggested that he stay there while they were away there had been plenty of opposition, but the final word had been Kate’s. Drew had enough on his plate looking after Maia, even with Sam’s help, and Ryan needed a place to lay low, a place of safety where he would be protected from Delancre’s scrying magic if he should come looking for him.
Kate rubbed the top of Ryan’s back comfortingly, though it wasn’t really her place to offer him counsel she didn’t want to just leave without knowing he was okay. “I’ll call and let you know how things are going okay? One of my friends, Nikolai Makarov, will be coming round too in the next few days to talk to you about the preparations we need to make to rescue Daye…”
Nightwalker was touched, comforted by Kate's concern. She'd treated him so well and he could hardly fathom her willingness to do so. "Sure, I'll be fine," Nightwalker replied. "You just do what you need to do in England. Don't worry about me."
“Kate!” came Galen’s voice again, more insistent this time as he swung his head around into the kitchen, eyeing Ryan warily before turning his gaze to his wife. “Get your ass out here now, come on!”
“Jeez, Galen! Will you give it a rest? We’ve plenty of time!” she returned with a roll of her eyes, giving Ryan a gentle pat on the back.
“Do you two know there’s a taxi waiting outside?” came Jack’s voice as he entered the kitchen. The glare he received from both Kate and Galen forced him to hold his hands up in defence. “I’ll take that as a yes…”
“You have our contact in Warwick, right?” asked Kate as she batted away Galen’s time-concerns with a wave of her hand. She was more concerned that everyone knew what to do while they were away and how to reach them if anything should happen in their absence.
“I have everything you gave me, now go… go on… things will be just…” Jack glanced at Ryan who still stood silently observing the scene. “Just fine.”
Nightwalker stepped away from Kate, not wanting to cause any more tension than he had to. He eyed Jack warily; aware that although neither he nor Galen was happy with this arrangement, that it was Jack he'd have to contend with alone while Kate was gone. "Yes, you should go," Nightwalker urged, attempting to hide his concern. "We'll be fine here. Everything will be fine here."
“Fine, okay, that’s good…” echoed Kate, eyeing Ryan and Jack circumspectly. Her father had been less than happy with the arrangement but she knew he could more than take care of himself even if Ryan was still a danger, which he wasn’t. “You two play nice… I don’t know, watch some sports, eat pizza, try not to get into any trouble and DON’T break anything!”
Galen laughed, taking Kate’s hand in his own. “Yeah, no wild parties while we’re gone, Jack.”
“You know what I mean,” said Kate in concern, “I just had the living room redecorated for the third time this year, try not to make it a fourth okay?”
The irritable sound of a car horn from their impatient taxi driver interrupted any reply and Kate took it as their cue to leave. She hugged her father close, whispering in his ear. “I want you to go easy on Ryan while I’m gone, okay? Try not to give him a hard time.”
“I’ll do my best,” assured Jack, embracing his daughter warmly. “You two take care, have a safe journey.”
Kate smiled as she drew back, Galen ushering her out towards the hallway. “Everything’s gonna be fine, right? We’ll be back before you know it.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, May 16th 2007
2:35 pm
LA Community Hospital
Alessa gently pushed the hospital room's door, opening it a little, and peeked inside. The room was silent and there was nobody in the bed. In fact, it was perfectly made and the room was perfectly in order, no personal items or flowers decorating the windowsill. She started to retreat her steps, hoping that Mike had told her Ellis had checked out of hospital when his voice made her jump in surprise.
"Alessa, hello. What a nice surprise," Ellis said, the coldness in his voice nevertheless betraying the warmth of the words. He was walking out from the bathroom, a towel robe in his arm. He looked coldly up and down her and then dismissed her, moving towards the night table and opening its drawers.
Still in the threshold, Alessa studied him; he was dressed in jeans and a crisp white shirt, and apart from a bandage in his forehead he looked as healthy as usual, albeit a little pale. It was obvious that he had been allowed to go home, and she thanked Mike for not going on with his plan of sedating Ellis till they found a cure. It wasn’t a fair thing to do, though she didn’t doubt the man was going to keep a close tab on Ellis.
"Hi, Ellis," she answered, stuttering a little. "So you are leaving? How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine." He didn’t turn to look at her, but kept collecting whatever there was in the night table drawers. Alessa felt a rush of irritation go through her but quickly suppressed it; she didn’t want Ellis picking it up.
"Listen, Ellis. I'm sorry about what happened. I… I never wanted anything like that to happen…"
"Like what? Me beating your mage friend? Shooting your gardener?" He almost spat the last word and then turned around and looked at her, a cold smile curving his mouth. "You shagging the First Elder?"
Alessa stepped back as if slapped. She couldn’t stand the look in his eyes, and blushed, but at the same time she confirmed her suspicions. "So, you knew?" Recovering, she walked into the room and closed the door behind her. "Why didn’t you tell me if you knew all about it?"
Ellis shrugged and leaned on the bed, his eyes harder than ever. "It wasn’t my business, you made that clear enough."
"Oh, Ellis… I- I didn’t know it was him…" She chewed on her lip and leant against the door herself. She knew Ellis was sick, she knew he wasn’t behaving like the man she had fallen for, but the hurt he was trying to hide behind the cold façade was real enough.
"I couldn’t help it, he was so charming and fascinating, and he played me so well…" she said bitterly. "You aren’t the only one betrayed here, believe me."
She raised her eyes to his and saw his resolve falter a second. "I'm sorry, I know it's not an excuse, but-"
"You are infected too. I know," he interrupted her, his face hard again. "That's probably the reason you slept with me in the first place too, so I shouldn’t really complain, should I?"
"No, Ellis, it's not like that either. We- what we had was different… and you did have a right to ask or be angry, we had a relationship after all. That gave you the right. I'm sorry," she repeated, and then smiled weakly. "Just don’t crash the car again… I don’t want to end up like that guy in 'Vanilla Sky'."
Ellis couldn’t help but answer her smile, even if a little reluctantly, and the ice between them somewhat broke. Alessa smiled ever more broadly, relaxing against the door.
"Why? Do I look like a psycho girlfriend to you?" he asked, feigning hurt. Then he added, "Well, even if I am I wouldn't jump off a bridge; your face is just too pretty to mar it so," he said, his eyes caressing her face and stopping on her mouth. Feeling his throat suddenly dry, he shrugged again, looking away. "Besides, the company won't give me another car if I wreck the next one."
"Well, I don’t know, you should talk to the boss." Alessa grinned, relieved they were talking in friendly terms again. She really liked Ellis, virus or no virus. "He seems a pretty reasonable guy. I'm sure he'll be understanding to your problems."
"Oh? And what problems are those?" He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms on his chest. Alessa couldn’t help but notice his muscles rippling beneath the cotton of the shirt, and she gulped. The man was too damn handsome for his own good.
"Let me see…" she started, pointing her fingers. "Jealousy? Anger control issues? Trigger happy fingers…"
Ellis snorted. "Don’t make me start on that now."
Alessa sighed, even if relieved that some things hadn't changed so much, but at least he wasn’t raging about Oz again, like every time they discussed the subject. She looked at him once more, actually he looked just too calm, relaxed even; maybe Mike had had him on some medication after all. She made a mental note to ask the man.
"I won't," she answered, still studying him. "So, what are you going to do now? Going back to work?"
"Nah," he shrugged again, and looked away. "Mike talked me into taking a break. I can't leave the State though, so I'm going to the mountains. Have a few relaxed days next to a lake or something…"
*Away from anybody I may get the urge to kill,* he added to himself, *and next to a hulky looking 'prison guard' too, courtesy of Mike.* He massaged his right arm, feeling the bandaged wound left by Oz's sword and grimaced. He hadn't finished with Oz yet, but he knew that hadn't been the way of doing things. He could have killed both Oz and Cole that day, not that he'd miss Oz… but Cole was a different matter altogether.
"How's the kid?" he asked, still looking away.
"Cole's fine," Alessa answered, relieved to change the subject. "He understands too, Ellis. He told me what he had done to you, when he was sick, and he's sorry. He doesn’t hold this against you either."
Ellis nodded, Mike had explained that situation to him too. It seemed that Mike knew pretty much all that happened around him, which wasn’t surprising, actually.
He turned to look at Alessa again, and for the first time he really looked at her. She looked as enchanting as ever, but she was wearing a dress that looked baggy on her, which was strange, since she was always perfectly dressed lately, and her dark and glossy hair was up in a tight chignon. Not the style she usually favoured. She had been posing as somebody else, that was clear. *Who are you hiding from, Alessa?* he asked to himself, concern and jealousy clouding his mind. *Delancre?* He shivered inwardly, refusing to think of Alessa in Delancre's hands, but instead he schooled his face into a gentle smile.
"So, how's your life, Alessa? What are you going to do?" he asked, masking his voice as much as he could. *What are you going to do about Delancre?* If he could he'd take her with him to the mountains, lock her inside the cabin and make love to her till she forgot all about anything but him. Too bad she probably wouldn't be game for it. The urge to do so was so strong that he clasped his forearms firmly, wincing at the pain in his right arm. He breathed deeply and thanked having taken his drugs like a good boy that morning, even if they made him feel like a wooden clockwork machine.
"I- I'm going away for a few days too," she answered, guilt making her avoid his eyes. She couldn’t tell Ellis about her plans, but she couldn’t feel good about it. She was thankful that she was hardly ever without her watch now. He wasn’t a strong psychic but he had the eerie habit of knowing how she felt about things, and could spot a lie a thousand miles away. However, when she looked at his face again she saw that he hadn't bought her lie *half truth* anyway, and blushed.
"I see," he said, and his mouth tightened. She had just confirmed his suspicions, but even if he couldn’t read her - there was something blocking her - he didn’t see lust or love in her demeanour, only grim determination. He sighed. He couldn’t help her, not in his present situation. He was afraid of his own reactions. He had to let her go. *I'll be a real boy sometime,* he thought, *I deserve it.*
"Just be careful, ok?" he said. "And don’t hesitate to ask for help if you need it. Mike or I will be there for you."
"I know, Ellis, and I'll be careful." It seemed all she was doing lately was promising to be careful. Then she looked at him and the poignant expression in his face cut deeply. Alessa nodded, so saddened that she could have cried. He was being just too civilized about this, almost so that she had forgotten about the virus, and that could only mean one thing.
"Good bye, Ellis," she said and turned around to leave before she disgraced herself in front of him. His calling her name stopped her before she opened the door. Without turning around she waited a few seconds for him to talk, and was startled when she felt his hands on her waist and his face in the nape of her neck.
"What about us?" he asked, his breath shaky on her and his eyes closed in anxiety. "After all of this ends, after we are cured… what will happen to us?"
He'd felt this way for her 'before' the virus, and that gave him some certainty, but he didn’t know about her and it filled him with dread. He almost wished she wouldn’t get cured at all if it implied losing her. *You don’t have her, how can you lose her?* he asked himself, and his hands clutched convulsively at the fabric of her dress.
Alessa turned around in the circle of his arms, but kept her face lowered. "I don’t know. I don’t know how I'll feel about anything then." Her voice broke and she hugged herself. "About you, about myself… I don’t know."
Ellis lifted his hand slowly and touched face. Her skin was soft and warm and there were wet tear trails down her cheeks. He did not want to pull his hand away, and so he left it there to its own devices, trailing slowly down the wetness with his thumb.
She lifted her hand then, and pressed it to his. For a moment, he was afraid she was going to brush it away, or say something, but she just held her hand there on top of his. Tilting her head, she looked up at him and her eyes met his, green and wide open. There was desperation there, and he braced himself against it.
"But what I do know is that I'll need friends," she added softly.
"I don’t know if I could ever be your friend again, Alessa. Not after I've been your lover," he said, looking into her eyes and falling into its green depths. "But I'll be there for you, I promise."
"That will be more than enough," she said and smiled up at him.
Against his better judgement but unable to stop himself, he lowered his head and leaned toward her, pressing his mouth to hers in a kiss that was part chaste, part desperate. Alessa's mouth was warm and soft under his, and he smiled when he felt her return his kiss. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to him as her small tongue brushed against his lips. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, her hips pressed to his, and one of her hands curled at his nape, while the other slid down his back and below his belt. He kissed her for a few seconds, then he reluctantly stepped back and parted his mouth from hers, still smiling.
He looked at her disappointed face and cursed Mike. *Whatever you gave me is working,* he thought, feeling himself somewhat detached from the man kissing the woman he loved. *Too bad it only has a four hour scope.*
"Now go, before I find a way to get round this damn drug I've been fed on and take advantage of you over the stretch here," he said, disentangling his arms from her body, albeit reluctantly, and smiling at her startled face.
"Would it be that bad?" Alessa pouted, lust blinding her. All thoughts of future happenings forgotten, she raised her arms to his shoulders and frowned when he stopped her again.
"Oh, yes. It would," he answered, smiling. "Next time we make love I want us to be completely in charge. Not some lusty virus ruling our actions."
"If we make love again," she spat, angered, and turned around, opening the door with violence. She was furious at him for rejecting her and furious at herself for wanting him so much. It was a reminder of how right he was in his appreciations and how much he still affected her.
"When, dear, when. Don’t delude yourself," he said, and laughed at the dagger look she sent him before slamming the door closed. Then he sobered up, a frown in his handsome face, he didn’t want to think about it, but…
"If," he whispered to the closed door.
delancre tries to tempt daye
*** Friday, May 18, 2007 ***
*** Cell beneath the Council house ***
Daye lay on the bed, eyes closed. She tried not to think about how sore she was, or how hungry and thirsty. She told herself that as long as she remained steadfast, everything would be all right. It was hard to believe sometimes, but she had no other choice. She wouldn’t give Delancre what he wanted.
Delancre came in every day, usually once in the morning and once in the evening. He asked her again to tell him all she knew, to swear fealty to him or some such nonsense. Daye remained outwardly untouched, but inside she wondered how much longer she could go on this way.
Daye also feared that Delancre would lose his patience. If he began to torture her in earnest, how would she ever resist? Daye would not even consider what could happen if she broke. She did not want to imagine Delancre going after Marcus just because he’d made the mistake of helping her. She didn’t want to think about Delancre anywhere near Maia. There was too much riding on her resistance.
“I’ll die before I break,” Daye muttered to herself. It was the same thing she said when Delancre stood before her offering her comfort and peace if she’d just give in. It was the same thing she repeated over and over to herself like a litany when the demon guards sneaked in during the night. She would close her eyes while their rough hands roamed over her body. She would picture her family and friends safe from Delancre while they used her. It was what kept her going, the knowledge that there were people depending on her not to break.
Daye lifted her head at the sound of footsteps by the door. Delancre had just come in. He held a glass of water aloft in his hand. The water was so cold that droplets of condensation clung to the sides of the glass. Daye felt more thirsty than ever at the sight.
“Amanda.” There was a note of pity in Delancre’s voice. “Sweet girl, you look… awful. Aren’t you done with this defiance yet? Tell me what I want to know and I’ll see you are taken care of immediately.”
“Go to hell,” Daye croaked. The thirst was always the worse. When the demons violated her body, she could pretend it was someone else. When hunger gnawed at her, she could ignore it, but Delancre only allowed her occasional sips of warm, stale water. Being thirsty, truly thirsty, could not be ignored.
Delancre could sense Daye’s thirst. He could feel her longing for the water from across the room. Moving with deliberate care, he settled himself beside her on the bed and lifted her head gently, bringing the glass to her lips. Delancre let her sip from the cool liquid for a few moments. He then pulled the glass away.
“There, is that better?” he asked. “You sounded so dry.”
Daye didn’t reply. She stared mulishly at him. “No need to be so stubborn, dear,” he said. “You can’t hold out forever. Why torture yourself this way? Just give me what I want, and I’ll take you away from all this… discomfort.”
“No, never,” Daye replied calmly. “Nothing you can say or do will convince me to sacrifice my friends or my family. You’re wasting your breath, Ambrose.”
Delancre’s eyes darkened with rage. “You’re being a fool, Amanda. I will get what I want one way or another. I’m a patient man, but my time is near at hand. If you don’t co-operate, I may be forced to resort to more drastic measures.”
Delancre leaned close, his face only inches from hers. “Make no mistake, pretty witch, you will tell me who helped you and you will bring me the child. It’s only a matter of how stubborn you want to be. After all the trouble you’ve caused me, I’ll enjoy breaking you.”
Delancre stood again. He locked his eyes on Daye and deliberately drained the water from the glass in his hand. He smiled cockily at her, and turned and strode out of the cell.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Friday, May 18th 2007
Venice Beach, LA
early afternoon
Alessa looked at Delancre and laughed. The man was looking suspiciously at the empanada in his hands, his nostrils flaring as he tried to identify the different ingredients in the strange looking thing. She had invited him to visit 'her LA' as she called it, and they were sitting in the sidewalk Argentinian restaurant in Venice Beach. Argentinian cuisine was pretty similar to Paraguay's and it was a perfect place to introduce him to her culture. In the outdoors tables, the sun shone brightly and the sea breeze played with their hair. Alessa studied him openly, brushing her hair off her face. It was a good change to see him out of his usual formal clothes, and in some sports wear. She had to admit that the man looked perfectly at ease with whatever he had on.
"Come on, Ambrose! It's not gonna eat you" she said at his poignant look. "The idea is that you eat it, not the other way around." She laughed again and dipped her finger in her already bitten empanada, smearing it in the hot sauce and raising it to his lips.
Her eyes flashed as he lazily licked at her finger, taking his time and looking intently at her all the time, and she licked her own lips at the feelings he provoked.
Ambrose Delancre was not a man who unwound. He didn't normally feel comfortable without the civilized trappings of a suit and tie. The fact that he was sitting in a seedy little restaurant on the beach, dressed in casual clothes, would normally have made him long for escape. But, strangely enough, being there with Alessa made it all seem different. The woman drove him wild. Without any of the former pretences between them, Delancre felt as if he could be comfortable with the demoness.
He also felt the rising heat just looking at her created inside of him. Especially when her eyes took on that inner fire.
Especially when she teased and taunted.
Ambrose dropped the uneaten food back onto his plate, taking Alessa's hand. He was still unsure whether or not this woman was completely trustworthy. He had never trusted anyone, not really, and it was hard to start now. Even though Alessa seemed to genuinely desire him, still Ambrose was hesitant. It was hard for him to read what Alessa was really thinking, although that she wanted him was quite clear.
Ambrose wanted more and more, as time passed, to surrender to his feelings for the demoness. He just didn't know if that was in his best interest.
"Eres tan hermosa, mi amor. Haces mi sangre arder," (1) Ambrose murmured, bringing Alessa's hand to his mouth. He caressed her fingers with his lips.
Alessa shivered at the touch of his warm breath on her skin, and she had to remind herself why she was there. It was easy to forget how much she hated him when he looked at her like that. She dropped her empanada and raised her other hand to caress his cheek, grinning.
"Strange, yo creía que el volcán eras tú." (2) she said, allowing all her desire get to him. She had been wearing Kate's improved charm non stop from the moment she had decided to play this role, and she knew that if she enforced some thoughts they reached over its magic, allowing him to pick up on them.
Then she turned her eyes towards the ocean, biting her lip she spoke, as if doubting. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you…"
"What is it, my darling?" Ambrose asked. "You can ask me anything... anything at all." *I don't have to answer honestly, after all,* he thought.
"It's about the renegades at Isla Nublada… I wanted to know if you… well, if the Council had taken care of them." She turned to look at him, and her eyes flashed red for a second. "I mean, with all the resources you have at the mansion and all you know about them…"
Delancre paused, chuckling inside. She was so very transparent. His little Alessa wanted revenge herself, but barring that, she'd settle for someone giving the "renegades" the punishment they deserved.
"Do you honestly think I would allow them to continue, especially after what was done to you?" he asked. "Of course I've taken care of those renegades. I had to ensure the reputation of the Watchers' Council - but more importantly I wanted revenge for the terrible things done to you."
Alessa beamed at him, running her hand through her hair. Then she laughed, leaning her head backwards and enjoying the sun in her face. "This is a beautiful day, isn’t it?" she asked, optimism growing in her.
Delancre was getting to trust her, she could feel it; now she just needed to get closer to him. She had already resigned the Armoury on his behalf, after refusing for a while, and had systematically severed all her contacts with her friends except those times she had prearranged with Inés to meet, and Oz, of course. She was slowly making Delancre believe that she belonged to him, and it was working. She was ready to move into the mansion.
Alessa was confident she could go on with the pretence from there, too. She had arranged a set of ways of communication between Inés, Oz and herself and from them to the rest of her friends. Yes, she was ready to move into the mansion.
She looked back at him and the untouched food on the table, and grinned. "I guess that if that empanada is not going to get eaten after all, we could use our time better."
Delancre laughed. Alessa was insatiable, but he wouldn't have it any other way. She was his woman, and he loved the feeling of power he had when he was with her. He wanted her near him always, completely under his control. She'd cut loose from her friends, and quit her job at his insistence. Ambrose felt perhaps at last she was ready to take that final step.
"We could at that," he agreed, standing and pulling her to her feet. "We could... go back to my place."
"The Council's mansion?" she asked, a dubious grin at her mouth, although inwardly she was laughing. "Isn't it some top secret place, just for Watchers?"
"Oh, sweetheart, it's not like that," Ambrose chided. "Surely, I've proven to you that we Watchers aren't some sort of alien species. The Council house is a place of learning and safety. And it's my home. I'd very much like to share it with you. If I wasn't so terrified of pushing you too far too fast, I'd ask you to really share it with me... I'd ask you to come home with me and stay."
Alessa frowned, as if considering it. It was what she wanted, all right, but she didn’t want to look too eager. "I don’t know..." she said, rubbing her chin for a moment. "Do you have a swimming pool in there?" she asked at last, her eyes twinkling.
Delancre laughed again. How unexpected. He had anticipated having to wear Alessa down on this point, but she seemed to actually be considering it. How that would be, having Alessa around all the time - being able to guide her and curb any of her less acceptable behaviours. Alessa would be the perfect adornment on his arm. When he finally took his rightful place, what better creature to be at his side.
"We do... two actually... one indoors and one out," he replied, injecting hope into his tone. "And if there's anything missing from my home, I'd be only too glad to make any changes you wish. I'd do just about anything to have you there with me, my darling."
"I don’t think that'd be necessary," she said, running her fingers down his arm and clasping his hand in hers. "Your house has all I need."
Getting serious, she went on, as if still considering the matter. "I could spend some days there, see how we adapt to each other…" She looked up at him again, grinning. "I guess I could give Donny a holiday. Oz can take care of the house while I'm gone."
Delancre felt a flash of irritation. He didn't care for Alessa to speak of the friends she did still see, not even her groundskeeper. But, if he could get her to move into the house, then Ambrose had no doubt that he could make sure she stayed there.
Slowly, Alessa was leaving her old life behind and surrendering control to him. It was too perfect.
"If you're sure..." Delancre drew her close to his body, cradling her. "I can't tell you how happy this makes me, Alessa. I... it's just what I've hoped for."
The demoness rested her head on his chest, pleased that he wasn’t watching her face. "I need some safety in my life, Ambrose, after all that's happened… some love," she said, her voice reverberating through him and sounding so outrageoulsy honest. Sometimes she was really amazed at herself. *I should pursue Broadway after this,* she thought.
She felt his hands rub her skin over the low back of her dress, and huddled closer. "You give me that and so much more. I feel I can be myself with you..." Pulling back she looked up at him. "To be with you is what I've hoped for too."
Delancre let his hands roam over the tender flesh of her back, his ardour growing. He glanced around at the nearly empty restaurant. His body flooding with desire, he wished that they were already somewhere more private.
"Do you..." Ambrose's voice was hoarse with desire. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Could we go now? I've a sudden appetite for something that's not on the menu."
"I'd love to know your home, yes." She grinned, "And your swimming pool. Did you know that Rinna demons can breathe under water?"
Ambrose shook his head. "How do they manage that? Gills or something?"
Alessa grinned; she had been biding her time to show him that 'special' trait of hers. She nodded. "Yes, they have gills here…" She led his hands to touch her sides, just above her hips, never letting his eyes go. Then she extended her hand and willed it into the greenish tone of Rinnas' skin when underwater, a thin translucent membrane growing between her fingers too.
"They also have improved hands and spade like feet to help them swim." She grinned again, teasingly. "I could race you in the water, and you'd never get me."
Delancre's eyes darkened with desire. He'd longed for Alessa to be willing to play such games with him. He'd dropped hints here and there, trying to let her know how much the more demonic aspects of her form turned him on. And now, here - in a most inconvenient place - she had finally decided to take the hint.
Delancre leaned forward so that his mouth was beside her ear. "Maybe you'd take pity on me and let me catch you - if I asked you very nicely."
Delancre pulled out his wallet and dropped some bills on the table to cover their meal. Then he took Alessa's hand and steered her quickly out of the restaurant.
----
(1) "You are so beautiful. You make my blood boil."
(2) "Strange, I believed you were the volcano."
Special thanks to Kris for writing Delancre.
Sweet Dreams my LAX
***Friday, 18th May 2007 – 4:43am Local Time – Virgin Atlantic Flight VS008 Los Angeles to London Heathrow, Somewhere Over the Atlantic***
Galen gazed out of the small window, watching as the sun gradually began to rise above the hazy mist of cloud cover that lay just below the aircraft, as smooth and palpable as a layer of whipped cream. The soft orange glow was little more than an unobtrusive arc, like the edge of a shiny golden penny. Slowly it grew in its intensity until brilliant yellow sunlight slanted into the air cabin.
Kate lay at Galen’s side fast asleep, her head resting gently on his shoulder. She hated flying, always had, and preferred to sleep her way through the entire process if she could. Galen looked at her contentedly and brushed away a stray lock of hair that had fallen across her face before reaching over and pulling down the shutter, blocking out the light and bathing their small section of the cabin in peaceful shadows.
Suddenly he looked up as William Travers slid back down into his seat across the aisle. The man smiled and nodded at Kate with some small amount of amusement in his eyes. “She okay?”
“Yeah…” said Galen quietly, gazing at his wife again and reaching across to pull her sweater more snugly over her bare shoulders. “She’ll be fine, just doesn’t fly well. Never has.”
Will watched the loving attention that the man paid his wife and smiled happily. Kate might be his sister’s friend rather than his own but over the years he’d grown to admire her strength and resilience. She had been through a lot of heartache for someone so young, what with the failure of her first marriage and her having to flee the country after being falsely accused of murder by her fellow coveners. But it seemed to him that in Galen she had found a man that was completely devoted to her happiness and well being.
“Well… I actually wanted to talk to you,” Will began hesitantly. “I know the two of us haven’t really had a chance to discuss… things. I have to admit, I’m not exactly looking forward to confronting the Council. Do you really think that Kate can convince the Elders at Sindell to back her up?”
“Can I get you gentlemen anything? Tea? Coffee? Something from the bar?” asked a chirpy young woman suddenly, smiling down at the pair of men through a thick mask of makeup.
“No, nothing,” said Galen irritably, waving the stewardess away. Turning back to William once the woman had gone, Galen frowned. “I have every faith in her. If Kate says she can do something, she will.”
“That’s all very well,” said Will, scratching his chin contemplatively, “and I admire your devotion, I really do. But if Kate can’t secure the Elders’ support… I’ve already talked to some of my close friends back home. They aren’t particularly optimistic. First Elder Delancre has more advocates than we first imagined… and there are rumours… about the White Hats…”
Galen’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. He could already guess what William was going to say but he had to hear it anyway. “What kind of rumours?”
“Well, they say mud sticks, right?” Will looked worried. “Let’s just say that appealing to the Elders from that angle won’t do Kate much good. In fact… it would probably help if the two of you could distance yourselves from the other White Hats, try to play down your involvement – that’s all I’m saying.”
“Well thanks for the tip-off,” said Galen with a controlled sigh. It seemed this whole thing was going to be much more difficult than any of them had originally conceived.
“There’s something else too…” Will tentatively reached inside his jacket pocket and removed a small crumpled up piece of paper. He smoothed it out some before handing it to Galen in the guise of a handshake. As Galen carefully unfolded the note, Will glanced around the cabin warily. “I received that just a few hours before I left to meet the two of you at the airport. Someone stuck it under my door… I never even heard them.”
A concerned frown spread across Galen’s forehead as he read the short note…
He rubbed his forehead worriedly, glancing at Kate’s sleeping form momentarily before turning his attention back to William. “This is serious, right? You think our lives are in danger?”
Will shook his head in dismay, “I don’t know… maybe. It could just be a scare tactic. I told Jessie to get out of town for a couple of weeks at any rate, though whether she listens to me or not is another thing. That girl is too stubborn for her own good.”
Galen laughed half-heartedly, stealing another glance at his wife. “Tell me about it.”
“All I’m saying is be careful,” warned Will as his tone became immediately serious. “The Coven of Sindell has many affiliates with The Watchers’ Council, there’s every chance that Delancre may already have sympathetic followers within the coven. When you arrive… he’s going to know. You’ll have to be careful whom you take into your confidence, anyone could be a potential spy.”
“Don’t worry, William,” assured Galen calmly, “I’m well acquainted with paranoia. It’s always kept me from getting into too much trouble. Anyway, you’re the one who’ll be walking right into the lion’s den, so to speak.”
“Oh, no need to worry about me, Galen,” chuckled Will as he pocketed the note. “Like you, I seem to have cultivated a way of keeping the wolf from the door. Besides, I have more than a few supporters of my own. If anything should happen to me it would look more than a little suspicious, and I don’t think Delancre is so foolish to make such a rash move.”
Galen grimaced at William’s words; he wasn’t an overtly superstitious man but that had sounded very much like what Kate called ‘putting a hex on things’. “Let’s hope not.”
Arrival
***Friday, 18th May 2007 – 7:44pm, UK time – The Coven of Sindell, Warwick, England*** (11:44am, Los Angeles Time)
“Wow,” said Galen as their car rounded the long winding road leading up to Sindell Hall. After arriving in London in the early hours of that morning they’d bid farewell and good luck to Will and checked into a hotel for a few hours of much needed sleep before their contact arrived from Warwick to take them on to Sindell.
Kate roused herself from her thoughts to glance out the window as the first glimpse of the impressive white stone castle came into view behind the dark olive spread of greenery. She really didn’t know how she would feel at being back here again after almost two years. In some respects it felt like she’d never been away, even though the last time she’d watched those large stone towers vanish behind the surrounding forest she had been convinced it was for the last time.
Now that she was back, Kate felt a mixture of longing, sadness and apprehension. Her brief talk with Christian over the telephone hadn’t been enough to prepare her for what was to come and she had no idea how the Elders would take to the news of Ambrose Delancre.
“How do you like Sindell Hall?” asked Kate with a soft smile as she slid across the back seat and looked over Galen’s shoulder at the stunning view. The sun had just begun to set and cast an illustrious golden glow over the architecture and the surrounding trees and fields. It looked like something from a fairy tale.
“It’s… it’s beautiful,” said Galen in appreciation. “I can’t believe you used to live here…”
Kate smiled again, resting her chin on Galen’s shoulder and wrapping an arm around his chest as she ran her hand across the thick wool of his sweater. “I’m glad you like it.”
Galen took Kate’s hand in his own and pulled back a little to look at her. She’d been quiet for most of the journey from London, seemingly lost in her thoughts. She looked tired too, despite their short respite after touching down at Heathrow.
“You okay?” he asked after a moment, wrapping a comforting arm around her thin body.
Kate nodded silently, not trusting her voice not to give away her growing apprehension. She let herself sink into Galen’s warm embrace, he felt so strong and secure… she had never been so glad to have him by her side as she was now.
“Things will be okay,” reassured Galen quietly, sensing her trepidation. “You’ll be okay. We’ll just go in there, tell them what we know, convince them to help. And if they don’t… we’ll find some other way. There’s always another way, right?”
Kate smiled again as she nuzzled more comfortably into Galen’s arms, snuggling against the soft wool of his sweater. She knew that he was just trying to make her feel better, less anxious about the task that lay ahead of them, and she loved him for that even if what he said wasn’t entirely true. They DID need the help of the Elders if the whole plan was going to work. Without their support they wouldn’t be able to convince the Watchers’ Council to intercede, wouldn’t be able to rescue Amanda, and definitely wouldn’t be able to stop Delancre from carrying out his plans.
It took them another ten minutes to navigate the sweeping grounds of Sindell before they pulled into the courtyard, the tyres crunching noisily against the gravel driveway. A lone figure stood in the entrance as the car came to a stop, her prim carriage enveloped in the warm, golden glow that emanated from within the building. It seemed like she might have been standing there for some time if her posture was any indication. She looked as old and sturdy as the pale grey stone structure that surrounded her, her silver hair flowing freely about her face like strands of moonlight. She might have been attractive if her pale, withered features had not been contorted into a permanent frown of discontent.
“Blessed Be, Coven Mother Hestia,” Kate said respectfully as she stepped out into the chilly evening, bowing low and remaining so until the elderly woman deigned to leave her post and place a bony hand upon Kate’s shoulder.
“Blessed Be, Sister Catherine,” said Hestia cordially, her voice sharp and cool with unspoken authority and smug satisfaction. She’d waited a long time to witness the return of one of Sindell’s most prodigious daughters, but it had arrived, just as she’d always predicted it would. Kate had been hasty and reckless when she had abandoned her duty in order to pursue a life of her own two years ago. And Hestia was determined to bring light to that fact, especially now as the girl knelt before those she had once forsaken and begged for their clemency.
“It is quite a pleasure to see you again,” she continued as Kate rose to her feet. “And this must be…?”
“My husband, Galen Eldridge,” said Kate politely as Galen joined her and took her hand in a supportive gesture that Hestia only raised an eyebrow at before turning around in a sweeping motion, her long emerald robes swirling at her feet as she led the way inside.
“It is a pleasure, I’m sure,” said Hestia archly, cool disdain in her voice as they made their way through the hall and began to ascended a rather grandiose staircase leading upwards to the residential wing. “Is this your first visit to our fair isle, Mr Eldridge?”
“It is,” replied Galen cautiously, his grip on Kate’s hand tightening somewhat as they walked a little way behind the imposing woman. He couldn’t help but let his attention be swayed as he took in his opulent surroundings. If Sindell Hall was impressive from the outside it was equally so inside. Large crystal chandeliers hung suspended from the high ceilings which were adorned with various frescos depicting the rebirth of the horned god and the conception of Mother Earth. Underfoot lay miles of thick, dark crimson carpeting; threadbare in some places from no doubt centuries of use and upon the walls hung a seemingly endless parade of portraits. Galen couldn’t help but read some of the names as he passed…
*Germaine Greenwood, 1344. Angelica Sutton, 1411. Marianne Aspel, 1559. Elizabeth Wiccham, 1608.*
“Galen?”
Kate’s quiet entreaty snapped Galen out of his surprise and he quickly caught up with the two women.
“No doubt our ways will seem antiquated to one such as yourself,” continued Hestia without so much as a pause, not even realising that her ‘captive audience’ had been otherwise distracted. “America is a new land, constantly growing, changing… even some of our own witches seem attracted to that prospect even if it is terribly superficial and ultimately unfulfilling. But I think that if you are willing to abide by our rules and regulations you will fit in without too much trouble. Tolerance, Mr Eldridge, is an underrated concept in these times but one that you will find is highly regarded here at Sindell.”
“Well I’ve been enormously impressed with what I’ve seen so far,” commented Galen honestly, giving Kate’s hand a slight squeeze as they shared a supportive glance.
“You have?” asked Hestia, almost sounding surprised as she turned around, a youthful vigour alighting upon her cheeks. “But of course you have, our operation here is one of the most proficient in the world, centuries of excellence doesn’t just happen overnight.” Hestia chortled a little and then laughed priggishly at her own joke before carrying on her way.
“Congratulations, I think she likes you,” whispered Kate with a slight smile, leaning in close so as not to be overheard.
Finally they came to a halt in front of a set of doors and Hestia removed a large set of keys from under her robes. She deftly turned the ancient brass key in the lock and pushed the heavy oak doors open, striding her way into the room.
“These shall be your chambers for the duration of your stay with us,” she announced matter-of-factly as she blustered around the room, trailing a finger across the dust-free mantle. “Hmmm, good, good,” she muttered to herself in approval, “I took the liberty of having this suite aired a few days ago but if you have any problems don’t hesitate to contact Warren, he’ll attend to any requirements you might have, and your luggage will be brought up shortly.”
“Wow…” mumbled Galen, his mouth gaping as he wandered into the room. Apart from the sheer size, which was vastly impressive in itself, the room was so sumptuously decorated it put him in mind of the time he’d taken a tour round the White House. Large leaded windows framed the far end, breaking up the dullness as the last dying rays of sunlight melted into the room. The rest of the décor was much like that which he’d seen whilst walking around. Tall frescoed ceilings, subtle lighting, plush furnishings, antique oil paintings and tapestries hanging on the walls…
“Just look at the size of that bed!” Galen suddenly exclaimed without thinking as he walked up to the large four-poster that was ostentatiously surrounded with thick velvet drapes on all sides and a large canopy hanging overhead.
“This really is more trouble than you needed to expend on our behalf,” protested Kate uneasily as she turned to a rather uncomfortable looking Hestia.
“No trouble at all, it’s not like you could stay in our residential quarters any more, seeing as you’re no longer a member of our coven.” Kate visibly winced at the harsh words of her former coven mother, and even though she tried to hide it Hestia couldn’t help but smile.
A light knock suddenly came at the door as two young men lumbered inside carrying their luggage, setting it down in the far corner of the room at Hestia’s direction. “Well now that your things are here I’ll leave the two of you to get settled in,” she concluded brightly as she turned to leave the room.
“But, I mean, I thought I was going to talk to the other Elders,” began Kate, looking both surprised and confused.
“Dear Catherine,” said Hestia sweetly, “it’s late and you’ve had a long journey. I’m sure things will run a lot more smoothly after a good night’s rest, don’t you? The other Elders and myself will see you at 9:30 sharp in our chambers tomorrow morning, but until then, relax, unpack… I’ll send up one of the attendants with a light repast and there’s plenty of hot water if you should like a bath before you turn in for the night.”
Hestia paused for a moment, carefully gauging the feelings of her old protégé. “Blessed Be, Mr Eldridge,” she called out to the man as he continued to explore his surroundings, “…Catherine…” Hestia fixed the woman with a knowing look. “Sleep well sister, it’s good to have you amongst us once more.”
Kate stood silently for a while. She hadn’t expected her first meeting with Hestia to go particularly well but despite the woman’s frosty demeanour things hadn’t been as bad as she’d expected. Still, Kate could tell that it would take all her powers of persuasion to make even the slightest headway where Hestia was concerned. The woman obviously still felt affronted after her abandoning the coven, even two years down the line, and perhaps Kate couldn’t blame her… she had been imprudent to burn her bridges in such a manner and now she would have to pay for that mistake.
“Oh my god! Would you look at this place!” exclaimed Galen suddenly, grabbing Kate’s hands and practically dancing with her around the room. “It’s like… Buckingham Palace or something. Where do you think they hide the crown jewels?”
Kate laughed breathlessly as Galen twirled her around, letting all her misgivings and worries subside for the time being as a dizzy feeling over took and the room spun about them wildly.
“We’re here to work remember?” Kate laughed as Galen wrapped his arms around her, leaning in over her shoulder and nuzzling at the crook of her neck.
“I think I agree with Hestia on that one. It’s late,” he carefully leaned in a little more and began to unbutton Kate’s cardigan, sliding it back from her shoulders. “We should settle in, get ourselves more… comfortable. There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun when a situation should present itself after all…”
“Oh really?” smiled Kate, turning her head to one side to allow Galen greater access to her throat, “and just what did you have in mind?”
“Hmm, I could think of one or two things…” he said as he gently began to lay a trail of soft kisses across her shoulders and the back of her neck. “We have a lot of catching up to do…”
Suddenly the doors burst open and an elderly woman wheeling a trolley laden with food came strolling in, completely oblivious to the two lovers. “Here we go then!” her trill voice announced cheerfully. “A nice spot of supper, if you need anything else don’t- Oh!” the woman exclaimed in surprise as she saw the couple entangled in a close embrace. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb, I can come back later…”
“No, no, it’s okay,” laughed Kate, slipping from Galen’s embrace to help the woman with her trolley. “Here, let me take that for you…”
Galen smiled in amusement before his cell phone suddenly began to ring. “Awww, heck,” he moaned with a weary sigh as he took the offending item from the back pocket of his jeans. He looked at the caller ID and frowned. “I’ve got to take this,” he apologised before slipping over to the window so as not to be heard.
“Hi, Will? How’s it going? … … Yeah we got here all right, just… settling in.” Galen couldn’t help but smile as he caught sight of Kate trying to usher the old woman out of the room without appearing too impolite. “Yeah, no, I mean… she’s meeting with them tomorrow morning. … … I don’t know, a little apprehensive, it’s to be expected… No, she’s coping fine. How about you? … … … … … Right, well we’ll get in contact when we can okay? … … Yeah I’ll make sure she gets plenty of rest. … … … You too… … Talk to ya later buddy. … … … Yeah, bye.”
Galen grinned shyly at Kate as he hung up and she closed the doors behind the woman on her way out with an air of finality. He wandered over to the trolley and perused the offerings, plenty of fruit and bread, cheeses, cold cuts and a large decanter of wine.
“There’s some really nice stuff here,” he commented absently, twisting a grape free from its stalk and popping it into his mouth. “I could get used to this place, I really could…”
“Galen…” said Kate softly, her voice warm and inviting. She twisted the door key in place, fixing her husband with a purposeful smile as she glided over to where he stood, pouring out two glasses of the rich crimson liquor. “Didn’t we have some catching up to do?” she asked coyly, standing so close that her body brushed up against his. Slowly she drew a hand up his chest, caressing every muscle as she slid her hand around his neck, her fingers toying with the short locks of hair at the nape.
Galen moaned a little in appreciation, holding her close in his arms. “That’s true but,” he sighed regretfully, “you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow and I…” he sighed again, reaching up and trailing his thumb against Kate’s cheek. “Well… I want to be able to take a long time catching up,” he smiled promisingly, “if you know what I mean.”
Kate sighed resignedly, slipping out of their embrace and picked up a small bread roll from the tray, tearing it into bite-sized pieces. She couldn’t help but feel that Galen was pulling away, that maybe… maybe he didn’t find her attractive anymore and this was just a convenient excuse to avoid having sex with her. She chewed on the bread thoughtfully, stifling a yawn behind the back of her hand.
“Well, maybe you’re right,” she said unconvincingly, picking up one of the glasses of wine and taking a long sip. “I think I’ll just take a hot bath… have an early night…”
“Hey, Kate…” said Galen suddenly, concern filling his voice. He took hold of Kate’s hand as she turned to head off to the bathroom, holding her firmly with both his hands on her shoulders. “You know that I want… well, you. …I mean…” Galen gently trailed his fingers against her cheek again. Part of him regretted being so impulsive with her earlier, it made it much more difficult to resist her when she was being so responsive.
“I really want to be with you,” he confessed finally. “I really want to make love to you.”
“Then why don’t we?” asked Kate in frustration. She freed herself from Galen’s embrace, running a hand through her hair tiredly.
“I know you’re scared,” Kate ignored Galen’s protests and carried on talking. “You think I’m not afraid, too? It’s been a long time since we…” She looked away awkwardly, trying to compose her thoughts. “So much has happened between us and I’m afraid that things will be… different, in a bad way. And I don’t want that, I so desperately want things to be good between us, I know that they could be, I know that I love you enough to make them that way. But this thing… it’s just going to get more complicated and awkward until we face it.”
Galen shook his head unhappily, “I know you’re right. But I just don’t want to rush things. I want it to be good when it happens, better than good… I want it to be amazing.”
“We’re hardly rushing anything, Galen!” Kate added quickly, immediately regretting her harsh tone. She sighed wearily, taking one of Galen’s strong, broad hands in both of hers. “I just have this feeling that things here are going to be more difficult than I thought. Hestia clearly hates me and if that’s any indication of how the other Elders feel…” Kate squeezed Galen’s hand gently, “Things could get nasty. I just wanted us to be something I could depend upon, something to catch me if I fall…”
“Kate,” said Galen softly, tilting her chin upwards so that he could look into her eyes, “I WILL catch you, you know that… Things might not be perfect between us, but you can depend on me.”
“I know,” said Kate quietly, breaking her gaze free from Galen’s. “But it’s been months since we… and I miss you, I miss being intimate with you…” Kate sighed wearily, “I can’t help but wonder if this is because of-”
“-Don’t,” said Galen sharply, interrupting Kate almost violently, removing his hand from hers with a swiftness that surprised them both as his eyes continued to burn with deep-seated aggression. “Don’t say his name,” he said, half commanding, half pleading.
“I…I wasn’t going to,” stammered Kate uneasily. “But it’s still there, isn’t it? Just like she will always be there too. Don’t you think I know what you’re going through? That I don’t think about you and her together, that it doesn’t make me feel sick?”
Galen sighed wearily; he didn’t want to talk about Daye in that context. In fact he would be quite happy to erase that whole event from his mind completely. He’d hoped that maybe their getting away from LA might allow them some time to breathe, to just be themselves without the pressures of Delancre and the Hyde virus looming overhead, but that didn’t appear to be the case. Considering that was the precise reason for their coming to Sindell it perhaps seemed quite a foolish notion.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with that,” protested Galen awkwardly, though he knew that was a lie. Sometimes it felt like there were four people in this relationship. Amanda Blaise and Damen Kirk were like a constant stone around his neck, stopping him from getting close to Kate - it had to be the worst goddamn foursome in the history of the world. “You were right before,” he added hastily. “We have a job to do here, I think we should concentrate on that… for now.”
Kate shrugged and made her way towards the bathroom.
“Kate-” said Galen suddenly, feeling a pang of regret in his heart. “We’ll get through this, I know we will.”
Kate stopped in the doorway, turning to face her husband. “I hope you’re right, Galen,” she said sadly. “I really do.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Saturday, May 19th 2007
Watchers' Council Mansion
1:32 pm
Alessa pulled down next to the mansion's gate and waited till the buzz of the intercom greeted her. Gripping strongly the steering wheel of the VW she took a deep breath; here she was, walking willingly into the lion's den and she wondered for the thousandth time if she was crazy or what. *Crazy definitely, and 'what' too.* If 'what' meant determination, wish for revenge, stubbornness, selfishness…
*I won't get anybody in trouble but me, I made myself quite clear about that,* she repeated to herself for the thousandth time too. She just wished her friends didn’t get any strange notion about having to rescue her or something if things got bad. *Things won't get bad, I've thought of everything, well almost…*
"Name and business, please?" sounded the electronic voice through the intercom, startling Alessa out of her musings.
"Alessandra Hunt to see Lord Delancre," she said to the intercom, smiling to the camera. She nodded when the voice told her to go on, stepped on the gas and crossed the opening gates, leaving safety behind.
As she pulled up in the rounded driveway in front of the mansion's big double doors she saw Delancre descending the stairs to greet her. He was smiling charmingly and looked really happy of having her there. *Good boy,* she thought as she waved cheerfully at him. *Be happy, be very happy.*
"Alessa, my love. I'm delighted to see you have returned, safe and sound," he said, as he walked towards the car and opened the door for her. He took her hands and helped her out of the car, sliding his hands on her waist and pulling her close for a searing kiss. Alessa leaned onto him for a moment and then pulled away, blushing.
"Ambrose!" she exclaimed, looking around self-consciously. There were a couple of demons behind them, waiting patiently to unload her suitcases. "Everybody is watching!" she added, straightening the skirt of her dress that his hands had disarrayed.
Delancre laughed at that; this woman really enchanted him, passionate and yielding one moment, shy and demure the next. "Don’t worry about them, my dear, they are here to serve you, not judge you." He gestured the demons to move and his eyes hardened for a second, assessing them as they hurried to take Alessa's suitcases and drive the car to the garages.
"Come, my love," he smiled down at her and put his arm over her shoulders, possessively. "I didn’t have time earlier to welcome you properly to your new house."
Alessa beamed at him. "I'm sorry, Ambrose. I woke up and the servant told me you were talking to the Slayer." She slid her arm around his waist and rested her head on his chest. "I wanted to go home early to pack and arrange matters at home."
"Well, this is your home now, dear," he said, looking around with pride. Then he looked down at Alessa again, his chest filling with pride too.
Her hair shone in the afternoon sun, and her skin had the lustrous quality of polished bronze, highlighted by the light colour of her dress. The girl knew how to dress, and he wanted nothing more than to shower her with silks and furs, jewels and gifts… Now that she was there with him, he would make sure she didn’t want to leave. He would be wiser this time; the cage he built would have bars of love and need instead of iron and concrete. She deserved his attentions, not like that stupid bitch Amanda Blaise, who had proven once and again to be completely unworthy of all the efforts he had taken on her behalf.
Alessa looked up and caught the frown on his face, getting a glimpse of the man she knew he really was and she frowned herself. "What is it, querido?" she asked, worried. Had he suspected anything? "You don’t mind my having left without saying goodbye, do you?"
Delancre smiled down to her again. Actually he had been pretty enraged at her leaving without supervision, but he wouldn’t tell her that. Besides, the 'servant' had already learned that she wasn’t to let Alessa leave the house without telling him first, he had made himself clear enough. However, he had been sure she would come back to him.
"Not at all, my love. You are free to come and go as you wish, of course," he said instead. *And I'm free to appoint a bodyguard to escort you, of course.* "I had wished us to have breakfast together, that's all."
"Well, we can have lunch together, then," she said, relieved. She didn’t buy that he'd let her move so freely, but she had already thought of ways to solve that problem. "I just had a cup of coffee hours ago, what with all I had to arrange."
"What are we waiting for then?" he said and laughed softly, as he led her up the stairs into the cool atmosphere of the mansion's halls. For all her slight size Alessa always surprised him with a healthy appetite. His mouth went suddenly dry when he thought of other 'appetites' equally healthy in his new lover, and he leant towards her. "But maybe we should go to our rooms first? Let you refresh yourself?"
Alessa felt her pulse quicken at the huskiness in his voice, and smiled mischievously. Without turning to him she casually took the ample collar of her dress with two fingers and parted it from her body in a fanning movement, allowing him a glimpse of the creamy skin down her chest.
"You know, I think you are right. I'm all sweaty from all the packing and the trip here, the sun is too strong today... a bath before lunch would be just perfect."
Delancre laughed and took her hand in his, raising it to his lips and caressing her with his eyes. "Your wishes are my command, my lady," he said and quickly led her through the maze of halls to his private habitations.
When they got to Delancre's rooms Alessa looked around marvelled. Last night she hadn't had time to inspect the place and this morning she had left too quickly to do so, her mind already thinking about all the last minute arrangements she had to make before moving. Now when Delancre opened the massive oak doors she couldn’t help but stare, suddenly forgetting their reasons for the rush.
"Dios, Ambrose, this is beautiful!" she said, as she walked into the rooms. She had seen her share of luxurious places, especially in the last days, but Delancre's habitations surpassed all of them. First of all it was huge, a house inside a house, complete with an office, living area and bedroom, apart from the large bathroom with a big sunk in Jacuzzi and walk in closets.
Delancre watched Alessa open doors and peek inside rooms with amusement. He was more than satisfied with her reactions, and this was only a sample of what awaited her as his partner in the future. He wanted her to understand the benefits of being with a man like himself. He was more and more convinced that Alessa was the woman for him; what she lacked in breeding and class she made up for with grace and beauty, let alone her demon blood, the main reason behind his wanting her. He had already started her education, and if last night had been a sample of her learning, he was on the right track.
"I'm happy you like it, Alessa," he smiled gently as he walked to her side while she looked out of the window to the mansions grounds. He had a perfect view of the gardens and the some of the installations, while the barracks, labs and storehouses were out of sight. He slid his hands on her waist and pressed her back to him, looking over her shoulder to the ground outside, where his demon soldiers were already training under the unwavering eyes of his Slayer.
"Is that the Slayer?" Alessa asked, imprinting her voice with casual curiosity. Her eyes were busily scanning the training field, and a slight smile was the only showing of her satisfaction at having this ideal spot to watch the corps.
Delancre nodded. "Yes, that's Anabella Graziani, the Vampire Slayer. She's a sweet girl, I'll introduce her to you later," he said, nuzzling at her ear. Alessa leant back with a sigh of satisfaction but he noticed she was still watching intently out of the window and a pang of irritation went through him. He wanted her completely focused on him alone. "But let's not talk about her now. Later I'll tour you around the house and you'll get to meet her; now I have something else to show you."
Aware of his impatience Alessa turned around and tangled her hands around his neck. "Oh? And what would that be," she asked, grinding suggestively against him.
He laughed and pressed his palms to her hips, gently pulling her apart. "Not what you have in mind, young lady!" he kissed the tip of her nose and grinned at her. "At least, not yet …"
"Who do you call young lady, mister?" she laughed, but her curiosity was piqued and Alessa let herself be led towards the hall. There was a small round table in the middle of it, a big bouquet of yellow roses at its centre, and a flat oblong box near it. Alessa watched with rounded eyes as Delancre took the box and looked at her with a small smile on his lips.
"What is that?" she asked, suddenly shy.
"A welcoming gift," he said. "Something to show you how happy I am of having you with me."
"You didn’t have to buy me anything, Ambrose…" she said, her eyes downcast.
"I didn’t have to, but I wanted to," he answered her, delighted at her reaction. He opened the box to show a luxurious, yet simple, emerald and platinum pendant, and a set of earrings made with smaller but equally superb stones. The single tear shaped emerald, the size of her thumbnail, was exquisitely cut and it seemed to be suspended on air when Delancre raised it from its velvet bed to place it on her skin. The jewel rested on her bosom, heavy and warm in the valley between her breasts. The earrings shone with an inner flame that mirrored her eyes.
"There, I knew they would look splendid on you, they're exactly the same colour as your eyes."
Alessa just stared at the gem and fingered it with trembling fingers, then she touched her ears lightly, getting used to the unfamiliar weight. This man unsettled her in a way that scared her; she knew he was evil, she just knew it, and yet… how ironic that he would be the only one of her lovers to ever treat her like this. In all her long life she had never been so thoroughly seduced, so completely taken aback time and again, dinners with candles, opera, champagne, intelligent conversation, gifts … *Lies, deception, rape?*
She looked down at the emerald again. She had lived twenty years with Morris and all she had of him was an agate ring, and it had been her gift to him; she had been with Chance almost six months and she had nothing to remember him by, apart from his weapons and a leather jacket. She felt her eyes fill with tears. It was unfair, oh so unfair… she had cherished that damn ring, more than she would ever cherish these pieces of green stone, but why hadn't he thought of giving her something, anything? Why hadn't Chance? Why did this this monster have to be the only one?
She sucked in air when she felt Delancre's fingers loosen the knots on the shoulders of her summer dress and the silky cream fabric sliding to pool at her feet. He moved noiselessly around her, touching her almost with reverence. Why hadn't Morris or Chance, men she had loved unconditionally, ever treated her like this? She felt his fingers slid over her skin, unfastening her bra and then slipping her panties down her legs. Obediently she raised one foot and then the other to let him completely disrobe her. Then he rose again, and his hands were busy taking the pins out of her hair, letting it loose over her back, the long curls brushing down almost to the swelling of her bottom. She felt the warmth of his eyes on her and she straightened, proud to show herself to him.
Delancre saw the complex emotions cross Alessa's face, and difficult as it was to know what she was thinking, he knew he had touched her deeply. He wanted to laugh aloud, so easily he was gaining her trust. He still didn’t know if she was to be trusted, but he knew he had reached into her. Her silence told him so.
Taking a step back, he admired the demoness. Now that she was completely naked in front of him, only jewellery gracing her body, she looked exotic and wild, like a princess escaped from some fortunate Sheik's harem. He had selected the set, discarding more elaborate and important pieces in favour of simplicity, knowing that it would be perfect for her. The gems set off the colour of her eyes and cast a green fire on her bosom. He looked again at her face, where her huge eyes were glistening with unshed tears and felt his mouth go dry and his body stiffen painfully. He raised his hand to touch her eyes, causing a tear to run down her cheek.
"So beautiful," he said softly. "Don’t you cry, my love. You deserve this and so much more… stay with me, love me, and I will always be yours."
"Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave," Alessa whispered as her eyes finally focused on the man in front of her. She was feeling more herself again, more in control, but she was more afraid than she would admit about her own feelings. Noticing his quizzical look, she quickly added, "That's what Jareth said to Sarah… I've always thought she should have taken his offer."
Delancre watched her, satisfaction momentarily shadowing his desire. He didn’t know what she was talking about, but he got the meaning of her words anyway, as well as the implicit acceptance of his rules. He grinned and walked towards her, taking her waist with his hands and pressing her to his body. "Then you are more intelligent than Sarah, whoever she is."
"Just older and wiser," she answered, grinning up at him and tilting her head for him to kiss. *And a much better liar.*
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Saturday, 19th May 2007 – 6:25pm
Alessa watched out of the window at the now almost deserted training field. The rows of demons had gone from sight after what had seemed to be hours of exercises and she could see the Slayer shouting some last orders to the few that were still around. She could guess that they hadn’t finished for the day anyway, since their activity still had the pace of ‘work’ instead of the relaxation of resting time. *They’ll probably go on patrol,* she thought and her hands tingled with need. She hadn’t been in a fight in too long; she was already feeling like a rusty machine.
Suddenly, something caught her attention. The Slayer was turning to talk to somebody that was still out of sight, but her demeanour had changed, she wasn’t as commanding as before. *Delancre?* Alessa asked herself. The man had left her to ‘rest’ some half an hour ago, and it was good knowing where he was.
Instead, it was Tash who suddenly came into her sight. The woman exchanged a couple of words with Ana and Alessa smiled at the teeth-gritting expression of the Slayer. *At least you still bother her,* she thought, and then her smile disappeared when she saw the huntress look directly at her.
Alessa smiled coldly and waved through the glass, not receiving more than a slight nod in response. Then the Slayer walked out of sight and Alessa decided this was a good moment to see Tash. Nodding purposefully to her ‘friend’ she turned around and left the window. *The sooner the better.* She had been allowed to walk around the house, anyway. With that thought she opened the apartment door, looking right and left to orient herself in the long hall – she would need a little more practise still.
A servant demon was instantly beside her and Alessa smiled gently at him, although inside she was grimacing. “I wanted to go to the gardens, could you direct me?” she asked gently. It seemed it wasn’t against his orders, because he gestured to her and started walking in front of her, leading her. There was a winter room near Delancre’s apartments and she accessed the gardens through it.
Tash stood waiting with her arms folded over her chest and watched as Alessa crossed the lawn towards her. The demon accompanying the woman stayed back near the house, so at least Alessa had a little more freedom than Daye had had before her capture. From the moment she’d showed up just after lunch today, Tash had been hearing the rumours that Delancre had brought home a girlfriend, and that her name was Alessa.
Shaking her head at the foolishness of the woman, Tash resigned herself to having to play yet another role – the arrangement she’d made with Alessa had to remain hidden from Delancre, at all costs, especially the shapeshifter’s role in Nightwalker’s escape. At least in that she knew she could count on Alessa’s support. The demoness would suffer just as much, if not worse, if Delancre ever learned of that.
“Well, well,” Tash said as Alessa came close, “I see Delancre has you as his new piece of fluff now. I can’t say I envy you.”
Alessa smiled sweetly to Tash, but her eyes were cold. “Well, you should. Ambrose is a very ‘talented’ man, you know.” She purposely thought about their lovemaking and how it made her feel, and could see a hint of disgust going through the woman’s face. She wouldn’t go and open herself to Tash.
She looked back at the house and the servant who was trying to look busy while watching her. Well, nothing she was doing was suspicious, anyway. “There are certain benefits in living here too, as you probably know, since you spend so much time here yourself.”
“Oh, indeed.” Tash smiled toothily. The benefits were definitely beginning to outweigh the disadvantages in her case, and at least she didn’t have to bed with that disgusting man to achieve her ends. Thank God he’d never shown an interest in her in that regard. He’d been far more interested in her as a tactical resource.
In fact, tonight there were four more demons to raise, to add to her ever-growing zombie army. The undead forces now numbered almost a third of Delancre’s total troops, a ratio that would continue to increase with each demon death. Her only concern was what would happen if Delancre recalled the bulk of his army from Colombia early, before she’d had a chance to wrest control of the zombies back from the man.
And time was running short. Now that Daye was captured, Tash knew it would only be a matter of days before Delancre broke her and got what he wanted. Despite her best efforts to reach Daye alone, Tash had been constantly thwarted. So the witch still lived, and was still a danger to her plans. A glimmer of hope lit in her eyes, though. With Alessa now on the premises full time, Tash had a much better chance of pulling off Daye’s elimination. She fixed a smile on her face and steered Alessa to a nearby bench.
“So, how are things going out there with the rest of the guys? Kate’s well, I trust? And Nikolai?” Tash’s questions were a not-so-subtle reminder to Alessa of their bargain – information and assistance for silence.
Alessa smiled, not at all beguiled by her ex friend’s seemingly innocent questions. She knew what Tash wanted, and the sooner she made herself clear the better. Tash did have things on her, but she had some leverage on Tash too now.
“I really don’t know, I haven’t seen much of them in the last few days. I resigned from the Armoury too.” She shivered in distaste. “I was tired on fending off hands from my ass…”
She smiled at Tash again, "Talking about friends, how’s your other friend, the scarred one?”
Tash’s shrug was eloquent. “Don’t know, and don’t care. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.” She eyed Alessa speculatively. “Have you heard about Daye at all?”
“Daye?” Alessa frowned. She didn’t know what Tash was talking about. “Why ever would I have heard of Daye? The last I knew she was trying to rape Nikolai. Why?”
“Rape...?” Tash couldn’t help herself – she laughed out loud. It was just the sort of thing the Hyde-infected Daye would have done, and no doubt the annoying little Russian had it coming to him. She just wished she could have been a fly on the wall at the time.
Ignoring the look of disgust Alessa shot her way, Tash recovered from her mirth and decided if she was to reach Daye she needed Alessa to know at least part of the story. Besides, being here no doubt the demoness would learn the truth soon enough anyway. Tash may as well get some mileage out of it by being the first to break the sad news to her friend.
“Yes,” she said soberly, “Daye was trying to infiltrate Delancre’s operations, but she was careless and was found out. Delancre has her locked up. Even I can’t get to see her alone, and Delancre has generally let me go anywhere.”
She gave Alessa a significant look and dropped her voice. “Be careful, Alessa. I can make a good guess why you’re here. You don’t want to end up the same way as Daye.”
Alessa was shocked with the news but controlled herself quickly enough. It didn’t help that Daye was kept prisoner there, and she needed to think of a way to deal with that problem. But Tash was a more pressing problem at the moment.
“Tash, you can’t really guess what’s in my mind. Believe it or not, I want to be exactly where I am and I will do nothing to endanger my situation here, and I mean nothing.”
She was sure Tash must be aware of the virus thing, after all the time she'd spent with Delancre. The virus made you selfish and self centred, and she played on that. “Delancre is a great lover, a rich and powerful man…” She toyed with the heavy emerald pending from her neck, “I'm tired of working for a living, fighting my way in the world, literally. He can offer me a lot, and I mean a lot.”
She leaned back, looking at Tash in the eyes. “So I entered the mansion as you – well, that was before I knew who Delancre was, and I admitted knowing about him the next time I saw him. I could get away with him learning about that. Don’t underestimate my powers of persuasion.” She leant forward, “Can you say the same about your little ‘escapade’?”
Tash could sense full well the extent of Alessa’s attraction to Delancre, and shuddered inwardly at the thought. But that wasn’t all, despite Alessa’s protests. No, the demoness was definitely up to something, but if she wanted to believe that Tash was ignorant of her true motives, then Tash was happy to play along with that.
So she shrugged. “My ‘escapades’ are my business, and you’re as deeply implicated in them as I am. I don’t think even your ‘powers of persuasion’,” Tash cast a disparaging look at Alessa’s body before returning her gaze to her eyes, “would be sufficient if Delancre knew you’d smuggled Kate and Nikolai in, and that you’d helped Nightwalker.”
Tash smiled tightly and leaned back. “But we don’t need to threaten each other with dire consequences, Alessa. I’ve helped you out, and you’ve helped me out. I don’t see any reason why we can’t continue to do so. My warning about ending up like Daye was simply meant to serve as a caution for you to be careful in your own actions. I certainly don’t intend to say anything to Delancre about you. Our arrangement hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s more convenient being close to each other like this.”
Alessa nodded. Tash was right; she had just wanted to make the woman understand that she wasn’t going to be played like a stupid again, at least not willingly.
“I think we understand each other, Tash. I don’t believe you are worried about me from the kindness of your heart – actually I’m guessing you worry as much about my welfare as I do about yours.” She looked at Tash in the eye. “I think there’s no love lost between us, not after all that’s happened. But we could do each other much harm if things go wrong.”
She looked at Tash seriously. “You helped me out, I helped you out. I think we are even. However, I’ll keep to our arrangement as long as I don’t put myself in peril.” She smiled tightly. “I won’t do anything that could be dangerous, not even for our arrangement, or you.”
“That’s all I ask.”
Tash sat forward, her hands clasped in her lap and her face suffused with concern. “Actually, there’s something personal you might be able to help me with – if you’re willing.” After a short pause, she continued slowly, “You see, I can’t get to see Daye. She’s been locked up for days now, and I’m worried about her. Maybe there’s a way you’d be able to help me get to her…”
“I don’t know Tash. I don’t know how much freedom I will have here. Ambrose told me I could come and go as I wished, but you know he’s a very possessive man.” Alessa frowned and looked at the demon who was guarding her, he was pruning the roses around the winter room door now. “Give me a few days to assess the situation and I’ll see what I can do.”
She cast a side glance at the huntress. Could it be that Tash was really worried about her friend? She doubted, but anyway she would do what she could. “I owe Daye a lot,” she added, and she meant every word. Even if she hadn’t talked to the woman in ages, she hadn’t forgotten Daye’s part in her rescue. “What do you want me to do if I get to see her?”
“If you get to see her?” Tash echoed. “No, I think you misunderstood… I want you to help me get to see her. Though,” and here Tash silently cursed Alessa’s choice of words, but she had to continue to play her part to the hilt, “even second hand knowledge that she’s okay would be something. It would be nice if I could see her myself, though.”
She looked up at Alessa. “I know everyone thinks I’ve turned into some heartless bitch, but I’m just finding it easier to distance myself from people these days, ever since Victor… well, you know. But Daye and I sort of bonded again after she moved in here a couple of weeks ago, and I really do miss having her around.”
To her surprise, Tash found that most of what she was saying was actually true. But she wouldn’t let it sway her from her course. Daye had to be silenced. She offered Alessa a watery smile and waited to see how the demoness took her words.
Alessa scanned Tash’s face intently, and she just hoped she had some kind of psychic powers herself. The woman looked completely truthful, but yet…
“I’ll try, Tash,” she said at last. “Just let me assess the situation,” she repeated. “I still don’t know if I could get to her myself, let alone take you. I can’t promise more.”
Tash nodded gratefully and repeated her words from earlier. “That’s all I ask.”
Daye confusing dream of love and the future
*** Sunday, May 20, 2007 just before dawn ***
The tiny cell beneath the Council house was completely absent of any light. Daye lay drifting off to sleep in that utter darkness that can only be found beneath the earth. Her breathing was slow and even but she moved about on the tiny bed, causing the chains she wore to shift, and the sound of metal scraping rang through all the empty stone rooms around her. It was hard to get comfortable while wearing manacles.
As Daye attempted to close her eyes and escape her prison for a few hours, her thoughts drifted again and again to the morning a week ago when she’d awoken in that luxurious bed. When she’d awoken alone in the room, but among company in her head.
***
*** Flashback ***
*** Sunday, May 13, 2007 ***
*** An isolated cabin in Aspen ***
Daye sat in the middle of the big empty bed. Outside the pretty picture window, mountains gleamed under a coat of fresh snow. It was very early on a Sunday morning, and Daye had been awakened by the bickering voices of two women only moments before. She now sat, working up her courage, as those voices echoed inside her head. The bedroom was empty.
Daye closed her eyes and focused. She brought into view the clearing she’d spent so much time in inside her head. Mariah’s door stood to one side, and Mariah waited behind it. She watched Daye approach with hungry eyes.
“So, finally decided to pay some attention to us, have you?” Mariah sneered. “About time…your little guard dog is sleeping the sleep of the dead somewhere around here.”
Daye noticed then the thin wall separating her from Mariah and from the woman standing a few feet beyond Mariah’s door. Daye smiled as the woman approached the wall of energy. “Hello, Mother,” Daye said.
“Ah… and there she is,” Erin said, smiling herself. “There’s my little girl. You’re feeling a mite better, I see.”
Daye nodded. “It’s all been taken care of,” she said. She knew that her mother had come to try and protect her from the virus. That protection had nearly driven her mad, it’s true, but it had also slowed the progression of the virus down so much. That intervention by Erin, and Mariah as well, was the reason that Daye was able to recover completely. Without their maddening voices in her head, Daye would have traveled much further down that slippery slope leading towards utter corruption.
“Well, then, only one thing left to do,” Erin said, reaching out to grab Daye’s hand. “Let’s put Pandora back in her box, shall we?”
Daye laughed softly.
"What?!” Mariah shouted, her voice suddenly edged with fear. “What are you two doing? Stay away from me!”
Mariah cringed in the corner of her doorway, her eyes wide with terror. Together, Daye and Erin approached the door. They held hands and chanted softly in Atlantean. As they spoke a faint white light surrounded them both. The door became more and more opaque. Mariah cried and screamed, making threats and offering promises. They ignored her. In a matter of minutes, Mariah’s door was solid once again. Her voice was silent.
Erin dropped Daye’s hand and turned towards the younger woman. “There, that’s better,” she said. “And you’re all better now, too. I guess I’m done here.”
“Done?” Daye asked. “Where are you going, Mother? Are you leaving me?”
Erin laughed softly. She reached out and cupped Daye’s cheek. “I’ll never really leave you, my love. But this is not my time and this is not my place. You can manage on your own now.”
“Where… where are you going?” Daye asked, feeling suddenly bereft.
“I have to go back, now,” Erin replied. “There are rules, my dear. I was only granted a temporary… furlough, I suppose is the right word. Now that you’re well, you’re out of danger, I must go back to where I belong.”
Daye nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She felt almost as she had on the night her mother died. It was hard to let go.
“Do remember, though, whatever happens Amanda, there is love all around you,” Erin said. Her voice was beginning to fade and as Daye watched she was becoming indistinct. “Put your faith in that and you will succeed, always.”
Daye’s face was streaked with tears as she stood alone in the clearing, light all around. Finally, she withdrew from the dreaming, coming back to herself. She sat still on the bed, her arms wrapped around her body, and tears streamed down her face. She was really alone now.
*** End Flashback ***
Daye had been alone in her own head since then, but as it turned out, she was far from safe. She should never have sealed Mariah’s prison. Robert had only become suspicious because the voices had stopped. That had been a very stupid mistake for her to make. But she was paying dearly for her oversight now.
Daye closed her eyes again. She thought briefly of Ryan, hoping he was safe. She thought of Drew, wishing she could see him just one last time. She thought of Marcus, knowing she should have followed his advice. She slowly drifted off to sleep.
***
Daye sat in the clearing she’d visited so many times in her dreams of late. The warm summer sun beat down on her, and she could hear birds singing and the rustle of the dolphins in the yellow grass. She was alone, but they were nearby, so she was surrounded as well. Lifting her face to the warm rays of the sun, Daye sighed in contentment.
“Lovely as always.”
Daye’s eyes flew open and she gasped. Before her stood a knight, clad all in black. His head was bare, and achingly familiar to her.
“What are you doing here?” Daye asked, fearful of the sad twist to his mouth and the resigned hopelessness in his eyes.
“I’ve come to slay your dragons,” he replied wearily. “Though I know the prize of your love is for another.”
Daye laughed weakly. That was ridiculous.
The Black Knight gazed at her for a few silent moments. Everything about him was dark and lost. Strangely beautiful eyes the color of a clear, crisp midnight settled on her, holding a depth of pain. His ethereal golden skin bore deep scars. His moonlight hair fluttered in a sudden cold breeze.
“You don’t have to slay anything,” Daye said, coming slowly to her feet. “There aren’t any dragons.”
The Black Knight shook his head gently. He reached out with one hand, and for a moment Daye thought he might caress her. She both longed for and dreaded this man’s touch. He did not touch her though. His hand moved past her to indicate something she couldn’t see. Daye turned and looked in that direction. She gasped and took an instinctive step back, bringing her into the space of the Black Knight’s body.
Behind her, just behind really, darkness lay over everything. She would have sworn from where she stood that it was a sunny summer afternoon, but a few feet away there was the blackest, coldest night. Daye recognized that darkness with her very soul. She had been trapped there for so long, and now that she was free, she could see how empty and bleak it really was.
“You can’t go in there,” Daye said, turning her head to look up into the Black Knight’s ravaged face.
“It’s all right,” he replied, now bringing that hand to rest on her shoulder. His touch was both soothing and disturbing somehow. “I’ve been there before. I’m not afraid.”
“But… but… it’s dangerous,” Daye argued.
“Yes, but someone has to do it,” the Black Knight replied. His gaze became wistful for just a moment. He stepped away from Daye and moved towards the darkness. “Don’t fear for me, my love… my only love. I’m not afraid of what comes next.”
Daye watched in mute horror as he stepped into that darkness. The Black Knight was lost, blending in with her “dragons”. She waited, watching and listening, but no sign of him remained.
“You are so very beautiful… even in sadness.”
Daye’s turned suddenly at the familiar voice and she gasped in surprise. The Paladin stood before her. He was a vision in silver and white, a symbol of nobility and grace. He stooped down before her in supplication, his helm in his hands. Daye stared in confusion at his bent head.
“Uhm… get up, please,” she said softly, mortified by his posture. “I… you don’t have to do that.”
“If it please my lady not, then I shall desist and beg forgiveness,” he said, lifting his head. He remained on his knee before her though. Love and admiration shone from his crystal blue eyes, and his mouth was turned up in a charmingly boyish smile.
“Uh, okay… you’re forgiven?” Daye couldn’t figure this out. Why was he here? Why was he dressed that way? What could this mean?
“What are you doing here?” she asked, terrified of what she suspected the answer would be.
“Preparing to slay your dragons, my love,” the Paladin’s voice was humble. His chestnut brown hair fell in waves to his collar and tumbled adorably over one eye. He knelt still on one knee before her, watching and waiting. “Only point me in the right direction.”
“No… oh, no,” Daye shook her head, tears misting her eyes. “There are no dragons. Go back. Don’t do this. There’s nothing for you to slay.”
The Paladin’s eyes grew sad. He lifted his head and looked out beyond where Daye sat. He rose slowly. “Alas, if only that were so. I see yon dragons await. Fear not, my fair lady love, I shall indeed slay them all.”
Daye glanced over her shoulder. Behind her loomed that terrible, impenetrable darkness. She grew more and more afraid. She jumped to her feet and grabbed hold of the Paladin’s hand. “Wait,” she pleaded. “Don’t go in there. It’s dangerous.”
“Indeed,” the Paladin smiled sadly. “There are a great many dangers in the heart of a woman. But I cannot turn away from this task. I have sworn my love. How can I break such a solemn oath?”
“But you’ll be hurt… or killed,” Daye felt a sense of terrible dread as she spoke. If he followed this path, surely her Paladin would be lost to her forever.
The Paladin sighed. “There is no other way for me,” he said. “It must be as it is.”
Daye tried to hold him back, but the Paladin charged off into the darkness. She wanted to follow, but she was afraid. She wanted to grab him and hold him to her, but she was afraid. She wanted to call out, but she was afraid.
The Paladin moved with determination into the darkness, but he too was swallowed up. Daye watched and waited, but again no sign of him remained.
“Foolish boy.” The voice behind her was again familiar. “You warned him, didn’t you?”
Daye turned again, shocked beyond belief at the man standing before her. The Sorcerer wore all black as well. There was no sadness about this man, though. He was both arrogant and aloof. His cool blue eyes studied her without passion. His dark hair was tamed perfection. His lips twisted in a sardonic smile.
“You have a penchant for picking foolish boys it seems,” he said.
“You can’t go in there,” she warned, gesturing to the looming darkness behind her. “It’s dangerous.”
The Sorcerer laughed. “As if I intended to,” he replied scathingly. “Do I look like a foolish boy to you?”
Daye shook her head. She was even more confused. “Then why are you here?”
“To teach you to slay your own dragons, my dear,” the Sorcerer replied. “You are so very strong. The others could never see that. Knights and Paladins… Ha! All they ever want to do is wrap a woman up and keep her safe. Why… that’s insulting. You don’t need to be protected. You need to be liberated.”
Daye felt strangely uplifted by his words. There was a ring of truth to what he said. Both her Knight and her Paladin had always tried to protect her, to shield her as if she was too weak. Had that been why she herself had felt weak? She wasn’t. She was powerful.
“Come with me now.” The Sorcerer took her hand. “There are many things we can learn together, things we can teach each other. And, when the time is right, we’ll come back here and I’ll watch you slay those pesky dragons.”
Daye nodded. She followed the Sorcerer, moving away from the darkness. She was filled with the strangest mixture of sorrow and hope. If she looked behind, she could see all that she left behind and mourn its loss. If she looked ahead, she could see all that was still to come and exhilerate in it. But if she looked right here, in front of her, Daye could only see the steps she was taking down this path, and she couldn't decide how to feel about them at all.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Sunday, 20th May 2007 – 8:30am
Isla Nublada – 8:30am Colombian time
5:30am Los Angeles time
“Been a while since we ’ad one o’ these.”
“Well, with his Lordship away so long there haven’t been as many, ahem, ‘disciplinary actions’.”
“Heh, yeah. You’re right, there. Bit early, but. What ’appened?”
“No idea. Don’t want to know, either. It’s better that way.”
“Yeah. Right again. So, give us a look under that there tarp. ’Oo is it?”
“One of the soldiers, I think. I didn’t ask. I just took him and promised to get him to the pit right sharpish. And we’d be there already if you weren’t obsessed with asking questions.”
“Hmph. Jus’ curious, y’know? G’wan, lemme ’ave a look at ’im. We need to know what colour ’e is, at least.”
“Hehe, all right. I have to admit, you do seem to have a definite artistic streak with these poor bastards. Look, see? He’s mostly orange, with a few dark brownish bits on his back. Of course, there’s a lot of blood from that nasty gash…”
“That’s okay. It turns dark pretty quick, looks awright as a kinda counterpoint to the other colours, y’know?”
“If you say so. But you can never be sure how much blood you’re going to get. I suppose you just have to take the materials you’re given, eh?”
“Yup, yup. Take that there blue fella we ’ad, oh, must be a good month ago now. He made a lovely centrepiece for a ’ole buncha yella ones and those dark scaly blokes what we put around the edges. They was all killed ’bout the same time, those scaly ones, just before Lord Delancre first left, ’member? They was ’eavy bastards, too.”
“Yeah, I remember. Well, here we are. Where do you want to put the orange?”
“I reckon ’e’d go nicely right… Oi, ’ang on a tick! Where’d that there blue fella go?”
“Hmm, I can’t see him. Maybe he changed colour after his corpse cooled off a bit?”
“Nah, wouldn’t’a thought so – it was fur. Fur don’t change colour, only skin. Nah, can’t see ’im at all. The bugger’s gone.”
“Gone? Are you sure?”
“Sure I’m sure. I ain’t blind, y’know. I know me own work when I see it. That bugger’s gone an’ ruined the ’ole juxtaposition of colour an’ texture that I ’ad goin’ on in the middle there. I’d been workin’ for months to get that goin’ just right, and now he’s gone an’ wrecked it. See there, some of the others ’ave been shifted about a bit, too. ’Oo woulda nicked me nice corpse?”
“Hmm. Blue fur, you say? What kind of demon was he?”
“Uhh, lessee… I think someone said ’e was a Brashnik or somethin’.”
“Do you mean Brashak? Hmm. They’re not warrior types. Even with the training they just don’t have the aptitude for it. His Lordship tended to use Brashaks as servants. It suits that race perfectly. They’re docile, obedient, won’t fight unless seriously backed into a corner, and even then they fall at the first blow and play possum until… Oh. Oh shit.”
“What?”
“Oh shit, oh shit.”
“What?!”
“Um, when you were ‘arranging’ him, was he particularly pliable?”
“Well, ’e was freshly dead, so ’e ’adn’t got cold yet… ’Ang on, are you tryin’ to tell me he weren’t dead?”
“It’s something I’ve heard that Brashaks can do. They play dead – they’re very good at it. If they get backed into a corner they collapse, seemingly all bodily functions cease and most people think they’re dead. But give them a few hours and they get up again and scamper off. Usually by then the danger’s long gone. I think the hole in your masterpiece proves that it’s true.”
“Ah, bugger. ’Is Lordship won’t be very ’appy to ’ear of it, I’m sure. That blue bloke’s been gone a month. Do we ’ave to tell anyone? We could just, y’know, keep it to ourselves.”
“No, we’d better report it. Besides, it won’t be us who cops the flak. It’ll be whoever tells his Lordship.”
Sunday, 20th May 2007 – 2:14pm
The Watchers’ Council LA Headquarters
Shuffling through the assorted reports before him, the Lord of Romney appeared to be in a far more benevolent mood than usual. Now that Alessa was settling into her new home, Ambrose no longer had to worry so much about what she might be getting up to with her so-called friends. He was determined she would not get a chance to disappoint him the way that Amanda had.
His lips thinned as he thought of the resilient witch, and he vowed to break her before the week was out. With his mind still mulling over the problem that Amanda posed for him, his eyes fell to an envelope marked URGENT.
Opening it, he scanned the papers within. The first page appeared to be a transcript of a message left in the early hours of the morning from Isla Nublada. As he read, his face grew first red, then purple as his expansive disposition evaporated.
“Adaq!” he bellowed.
The merest moment later a worried face appeared at the study door. “Yes, Sir?”
“Adaq, summon the mages. We need to locate someone. And,” he added just as Adaq made to scurry off, forcing the demon servitor to scramble back to the open door, “is Tasil available?”
Adaq gulped. Tasil was Sir Ambrose’s best assassin, the one he sent out only on the most important missions.
“I believe so, Sir.”
“Then reach him. Tell him I may have a job for him. Go on! Be quick about it!”
“Yes, Sir.”
Adaq disappeared, the sound of his feet fading as he hurried on his errands, leaving Delancre alone once more in his study. Reading over the transcript again, as well as the accompanying reports, Delancre growled deep in his throat. The crumpled report soon sailed across the room, followed in quick succession by the envelope it had come in and then a teacup that was, fortunately, no longer holding any tea.
Many no doubt heard the sounds of fury that emanated from the study, but none came to investigate, even after the sounds of destruction ceased.
Kate Meets With The Elders of Sindell
***Saturday, 19th May 2007 – 9:28am UK Time (1:21am Los Angeles Time)
The Chamber of Elders, The Coven of Sindell, England***
Introducing Ioan Gruffudd as Michael Dallinger
Kate stifled a yawn as she waited in the antechamber to the Elder’s study. She hadn’t slept particularly well last night, unsettled by her new surroundings not to mention the continued tension between herself and Galen. To avoid another upsetting conversation she had dressed quickly and left their quarters before he’d even awoken, leaving a message with one of the attendants as to her whereabouts.
As a result, she had been miserably early for her scheduled appointment, with nothing else to do but wait as patiently as possible – a task that was beginning to seem impossible as the minutes crawled towards the half-hour with an irritatingly slothful monotony. The Elders had arrived a short while ago, like a flock of brightly coloured birds in their elaborately embellished robes of office. Now Kate had to suffer the obligatory waiting period that all people in any position of power seemed able to inflict upon those they considered beneath them in an attempt to assert their implied superiority.
Kate drummed her fingers on the cover of her books anxiously as she caught sight of her reflection in a mirror on the opposite wall. She self-consciously straightened out the collar of her shirt that peeked out from beneath her thin black sweater and tugged at her matching black skirt as she noticed a glimpse of the top of her stockings was showing. She frowned a little, smoothing a hand over the short length of material. In her haste to leave before Galen woke up she’d pretty much grabbed the first outfit that didn’t look too crumpled and just pulled it on.
Now she worried that her appearance would be less than satisfactory, especially in Hestia’s eyes. The woman disliked anything that was too frivolous or that might be deemed inappropriate, and considering her inimical manner last night Kate didn’t want to do anything that might inadvertently antagonise the woman further. It was imperative to obtain Hestia’s favour above all else; though the other Elders were of equal import, Christian in particular had always had the annoying tendency of following where Hestia led. Kate just hoped that this ‘new’ addition to the council, Mr Dallinger, would be of a more liberal persuasion. Everything that she had planned relied upon her being able to secure the support of the coven elders, if she couldn’t deliver…
“Miss Wiccham?”
Kate rose to her feet slowly, snapped out of her misgivings as an elderly female assistant approached. “E-Eldridge, actually,” she stammered uneasily before clearing her throat. “Ms Catherine Eldridge.”
“Of course, my mistake,” smiled the woman. She had known Kate from being a small girl of barely thirteen when she had visited the coven on an almost regular basis before her initiation. “Force of habit,” she apologised before leading the way beyond the heavy double doors into the private study of the Council of Elders.
Kate took a deep breath as she walked inside, the heels of her boots tapping briskly across the polished floor. The three sat behind a solid desk at the far end of the room, as immutable and enduring as a snow-capped mountain range. It felt like a cruel trick that upon walking into that room again she should feel like the inept sixteen year old who had once had to sit before a similarly imposing trio and defend her decision for wanting to join the coven.
“Ah… Catherine…” purred Hestia from across the room. She looked every bit as intimidating as she had the previous night, her voice haughty but also containing a measure of intrigue. “Do come in and join us,” she beckoned. She sat snugly between her two cohorts with her fingers steepled together upon the desk like a prim headmistress.
Kate willed her features into something resembling cool, confident authority as she strode forwards purposefully, imagining each clack of her heels to be a resounding punctuation of her ability, aptitude, adroitness... Her sweater-covered arms gripped her pile of books and papers firmly against her breast as though they would offer her some kind of protection against an inevitable onslaught.
She had almost made it across the hall when suddenly, Kate felt her foot fly out from under her, sliding on the slippery floorboards. A slight cry of surprise issued from her lips and her arms flew up in the air, releasing their burden as the heel of her right boot buckled under the awkward angle and broke free, sending Kate and her stack of books and papers crashing unceremoniously to the ground.
The back of Kate’s head hit the floor hard and she scrunched up her eyes in a mixture of pain and pre-emptive embarrassment, her breath catching in her throat as a deathly silence filled the room. Her papers skidded across the polished floor as Kate lay at ground zero amongst the disarray.
“Are you all right?”
A warm English accent as sonorous as cut glass shattered the quiet and Kate opened her eyes to see a man smiling down at her. Michael Dallinger, she guessed immediately. His eyes were as dark as crystalline pools of liquid jet, his hair a mass of thick brown waves falling belligerently into his face and partially obscuring his robust features. He knelt by her side and wrapped an arm beneath the back of her neck as he helped her to sit up.
Kate groaned dizzily, holding her head as this strong and devastatingly handsome man assisted her. “I… I think so…” she mumbled uncertainly.
“That looked like a nasty fall,” insisted Dallinger as he tried to stop Kate from standing. “Maybe you should sit for a while?”
“I’m… I’m okay…” stammered Kate awkwardly feeling even more maladroit and increasingly vulnerable as the man deftly unzipped her damaged boot and pulled it free, cradling her foot gently in his hands as his fingers slowly smoothed over the stocking-covered curve of her calf and down to her slender ankle with an almost leisurely indulgence. The warmth of his touch was barely perceptible but spread throughout Kate’s entire ankle, easing away any inflammation or strained ligaments.
“Is everything all right?” enquired Hesita’s sharp voice, her own shoes clunking on the wooden floor as she and Christian came to inspect the damage, gathering books and papers along the way.
“Everything appears to be in fine form,” said Michael with a wry smile, not removing his eyes from Kate even as he slid her boot back onto her foot and slowly directed the zipper upwards to her knee. “Do you think you might be able to walk?”
“I think so,” nodded Kate quickly, feeling her cheeks redden in embarrassment as Dallinger wrapped an arm around her back and helped her up to her feet. Her ankle felt sore but she was able to put some amount of pressure on it as Michael assisted her over to a chair and sat her down.
“Well… now that all the drama is over,” said Hestia authoritatively as they Elders all resumed their seats on the opposing side of the desk from Kate, placing her collected research in a disorderly pile in front of her, “perhaps we should press on?”
“Of course, of course,” concurred Christian as he settled back down into his chair with ease, “and I guess now there’s no need to acquaint you with our newest confrere, though maybe a more formal introduction would still be beneficial. Catherine, this is Michael Dallinger. Michael, Catherine Eldridge.” Christian laughed as he stressed the last. “I must say, it takes some getting used to, your being married again.”
Kate blushed once more at Christian’s indiscreet remark, noticing how Hestia appeared to take a small delight in her discomfort – she no doubt viewed it as levelling the playing field in her favour.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Eldridge,” smiled Michael Dallinger, sensing a small amount of tension between the other three. He had read most of the files on the young woman who sat before them and therefore knew about her unfortunate encounters with the previous Elder, Serapis Aquillis, and how she had almost been executed for a crime she did not commit. With so much water under the bridge there was bound to be a measure of hostility, but he was more than capable of keeping the peace. “I see it as quite an honour to finally meet the woman I almost replaced,” he smiled again.
Kate couldn’t help but return Michael’s smile. It was quite infectious and most graciously received in the light of Hestia’s animosity and Christian’s laid back apathy. The two Elders had always said how they’d wanted some younger blood within the Council of Elders and though Michael Dallinger’s youthful vigour seemed almost out of place when surrounded by his contemporaries he seemed to match up to Hestia and Christian’s requests quite amply.
“Well, now that we are all introduced…” reiterated Hestia more firmly this time. “Perhaps, Catherine, you could tell us what you want. Your specifications so far have been vague at best.”
“Yes,” said Kate uneasily, feeling butterflies in her stomach at Hestia’s cool tone. “I have, but for a reason. I wasn’t sure if it was safe to speak so freely. This is a matter of some delicacy, I felt it was something that would be better discussed face to face.”
“Then please, do go on,” instructed Hestia, observing Kate with careful precision.
Kate nodded, glancing around at the other elders intermittently as she spoke. “You may be aware that some months ago, The First Elder of the Watchers’ Council, Lord Ambrose Delancre, assembled an operation in Los Angeles.”
Hestia sighed almost boorishly. “Yes we are well aware of this. The Watchers have been most pleased with Lord Delancre’s results so far. His demonic hunting squad have all but obliterated any real vampiric stronghold within LA, and there’s talk of him moving his operation to San Francisco, perhaps New York…”
Michael narrowed his eyes on Kate, noticing how worried she seemed at that prospect. Glancing momentarily at his fellow Elders he cleared his throat firmly, taking control of the discourse. “Is there something that we should know about First Elder Delancre? Perhaps… something the Watchers’ Council is not yet aware of?”
Kate nodded in agreement. “Indeed there is. I have reason to believe that the First Elder has his own agenda where his supposed altruistic endeavours are concerned. Several months ago, a friend of mine was kidnapped in London and taken to an island off the coast of Colombia, Isla Nublada. It is in fact a training ground and genetic research facility owned by the Watchers’ Council and run entirely at the behest of Lord Delancre. My friend, a verbati demon by the name of Alessandra Hunt, was brutalised and raped at the hands of this man until she managed to escape and there is more… horrific reports of this same kind of thing happening to hundreds of demons!”
Kate rifled through the stack of papers and books until she found Jimmy Han’s journal, she placed it on the table in front of the three Elders purposefully. “I have documented evidence, collected by a field agent within the Watchers’ Council, a man who was himself brutally murdered last year.”
Hestia looked at the book that lay in front of her before reaching out with a bony white hand and pulling it closer, sliding a pair of spectacles in position before her eyes. She carefully turned over the pages, reading as quickly as she could with the other two Elders both peering over her shoulders.
“That’s not all… Delancre has an army of brainwashed demonic soldiers at his complete control; some of them are already in Los Angeles… and he has a friend of mine in his hold too, Amanda Blaise…”
“Amanda Blaise!” laughed Hestia, yanking her attention from the book. “Believe me Catherine, we know all about Ms. Blaise and her antics of late. News travels fast, especially when it concerns the Watchers’ Council. Such a shame as well, she had such potential and instead of developing it she decided to throw it all away to become some cheap harlot!”
“Nevertheless…” said Kate sharply, not even bothering to defend Daye’s honour, such as she had left. “She has something that Delancre needs… Maia, her daughter. Even you must have heard of the child of prophecy that Amanda was destined to protect. Ambrose Delancre is out of control,” said Kate firmly. “I need your help, your assistance to persuade the Council to intercede… and I need an army of my own to take back to Los Angeles with me.”
“My dear Catherine!” spluttered Christian incredulously, “Lord Delancre is an immensely powerful and influential man. What proof do you have that he is guilty of the crimes that you accuse him of?”
“The journal…” began Kate insistently.
Hestia closed the book with an air of finality, removing her glasses and looking up at Kate. “Yes, this is certainly… entertaining. But do you have any physical proof to back up these allegations?”
Kate looked flustered and frowned anxiously. “What… what further proof do you require? Mr Han was a proficient Field Agent within the Watchers’ Council for over ten years. These notes document his research into the WC base at Isla Nublada, the Xeowarrior project, Hyde 232… There are dozens of detailed accounts of kidnappings and illegal magically enhanced genetic experiments. I’ve done MY research - check it out if you don’t believe me. There must be records of these demons going missing at the very least…”
“My dear, this…” said Hestia as she held her hand over the journal, “is nothing more than suspicion and idle supposition. The rumours about Lord Delancre are merely that, little more than gossip and speculation. There is nothing here that we can take to the Watchers’ Council without being regarded as the biggest fools in the whole of England. Hasn’t Sindell endured enough humiliation without adding insult to injury? No, I’m sorry Catherine. I sympathise, I do, but unless you can provide us with concrete evidence of Delancre’s activities then I’m afraid I cannot help you. In all honesty, I’m surprised that you would come so far with so little, expecting so much.”
“You’re making a mistake,” said Kate, almost angrily, rising to her feet. This wasn’t just about Amanda any more. Kate was determined that if they were going to take action they should do it now while they still had the element of surprise on their side. Why should they sit and wait for Delancre to make the first move, after all? To give him the chance to move his pieces into play? This way they could dictate the terms of the fight and hopefully catch him off guard, but it would ONLY work if she could get the Elders to back her up.
“The virus,” she said suddenly. “I can prove that the virus exists. It came from Isla Nublada when Alessa… I mean, Miss Hunt, escaped. She brought the virus with her and infected several of my friends. There’s physical evidence to show it exists; it alters brain chemistry, produces high levels of hormones affecting primal behaviour. The results can be seen on a standard brain scan.”
Hestia shared uneasy glances with the other elders. Michael nodded solemnly, biting the edge of his thumb thoughtfully. “This virus…” she began slowly. “What kind of symptoms does it present?”
Kate thought she sensed the vaguest beginnings of a negotiation opening up and she had to try hard not to reveal her relief as she sat back down in her chair. “Well there are so many but… irrational behaviour, anger, violence, selfishness, arrogance, the inability to be sensitive or sympathetic, a heightened sex drive…”
Hestia cleared her throat uncertainly, halting Kate’s chain of thought. “In light of this new information…” she pursed her lips together ruefully, tapping her fingers over the cover of the journal that still lay closed in front of her. “If you would be so good as to allow us some time to peruse your research at our leisure… perhaps we might be able to come to some kind of arrangement, if circumstances prove satisfactory that is.”
“Of course,” said Kate amicably. “Thank-you.”
“We’ll meet again tomorrow morning, same time if you don’t mind. I’m sure we will have much to talk about.” Hestia turned to Christian and nodded instructively.
The middle aged man rose to his feet, his left arm outstretched towards the door. “I’ll show you out, Catherine, and we appreciate that you have brought this to our attention.”
As the pair disappeared through the double doors, Hestia gazed thoughtfully at the stack of research and books that Kate had left behind.
“Sister Hestia, I believe I share your quandary,” intoned Dallinger contemplatively. “You believe this Hyde 232 is the same virus that has affected our own fellow coveners.”
“I do,” replied Hestia, still lost in thought, “and it appears that our dear Miss Wiccham might be close to finding a cure… If so, we would be foolish to discard her caveats out of hand.”
Michael rose from his chair and picked up a few of the papers, flipping through them as he read quickly. “She is obviously an exceptionally talented young woman.” He lay the papers down for a moment, fixing Hestia with a deliberate stare. “About The First Elder… I noticed that you didn’t mention the reports we have already received from the Watchers’ Council concerning the rumours at Isla Nublada? You don’t think that maybe there is some veracity to her accusations?”
“That isn’t the point Michael, and you know it,” sighed Hestia. “Right now we need irrefutable proof of Lord Delancre’s malfeasance, of which we have none. You and I both know how persuasive the First Elder is. There is nothing here that he wouldn’t be able to discredit.” Hestia shook her head in dismay, this entire circumstance felt too reminiscent of the incident with Serapis. She had been blind and foolish back then, allowing the man to manipulate the Council and indeed the entire coven for years. Sindell had still not fully recovered from the bad publicity that had followed. Their good name had been dragged through the mud and Hestia was determined not to let a repeat performance occur.
“There’s too much at stake here, Michael,” she added, looking over the stack of research. “A decisive response is needed but I think we shouldn’t rush headlong into any course of action that might prove to be unpropitious.”
“Of course not,” smiled Michael pensively. “It’s never wise to tip your hand until you have to.”
Hestia laughed. “Quite true, quite true. So…” the woman slid her glasses up and down her nose repeatedly, “how do you find Miss Wiccham?”
“I thought her name was Eldridge, sister Hestia?”
“That it is,” laughed Hestia again, removing her glasses completely and folding them in the palm of her hand. “Some habits are difficult to break, and you didn’t answer my question.”
Michael smiled in amusement. “Well, she certainly makes an entrance…” He looked thoughtfully at her fine handwriting, looping across the pages that spread across the desk. “She’s obviously very passionate, though perhaps a little reckless and headstrong. If her research is anything to go by then she’s particularly gifted, devoted, intelligent, though maybe too impulsive and terribly emotional. …I find her quite… interesting.”
Hestia regarded the young man mindfully. “Anything else?”
Michael grinned at Hestia. “And her skirt was too short.”
“How astute of you to notice,” laughed Hestia, waving her hand at Michael dismissively. The two sat in further silence for a moment. Hestia tapped her pen upon the desk, deep in thought. “I want her to see Dr Lennon… can you arrange it for tomorrow?”
Michael looked surprised but he nodded. “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure. I think a practical explanation is just what we need at this juncture.”
delancre threatens daye
*** Sunday, May 20, 2007 ***
*** A Cell beneath the Council House ***
Ambrose Delancre sat in the plush chair he’d ordered brought down to Amanda’s cell just for him. The woman was asleep. Without her infuriatingly stubborn eyes watching his every move, Delancre could study his captive openly. Amanda was, as she had always been, a puzzle to him. Like Delancre himself, her family was descended from European nobility. Yet, despite her excellent bloodline, Amanda resembled nothing as much as the wildest peasant stock. She was earthy and open, burning with some internal fire. He had witnessed her outbursts of passion over the years and had gained some insight into what exactly made Amanda tick.
Without question, Natasha’s assessment of Amanda rang true. The chance of her breaking beneath the weight of his anger was slim at best. Buried beneath the soft exterior, Amanda had a will of steel. She had refused to forgive or forget over the Nightwalker incident and her will had led to that unfortunate set of events to begin with. Amanda was, by her very nature, a bad fit with the Watchers’ Council. Ambrose had known that from the start, but he also knew she was crucial to his plans… plans that he’d spent years slowly building. He simply had to find a way to either circumvent Amanda, or far less likely, to convince her in one way or another that she must co-operate with him.
Delancre sighed and shifted. At least physically, the signs of Amanda’s confinement were beginning to show. She was growing even thinner than she’d been recently, and after her earlier crisis, she had yet to get back to her normal weight. There were dark circles under her eyes and her normally fair complexion had taken on a pale, sickly tinge. Her red hair was tangled and matted about her head. Amanda was obviously filthy and her lips, parted slightly as she drew in breath, were cracked and dry. She was suffering greatly from the physical detriments of being Delancre’s ‘guest’, but as far as he knew her spirit remained very much intact.
“How do I break you?” Delancre whispered, studying the woman thoughtfully. “What is the key to your heart, dear Amanda? What do you fear?”
That was the question Delancre most needed answered. He knew how to work the mind of a prisoner. He had perfected the arts of torture and intimidation. Once he knew what a person was truly afraid of, then he could start to get inside of them. And once inside, he could make his victims do his bidding. The place to start was with the key. So, what was Amanda’s key? That was what he needed to find out.
Finally, when Delancre felt he simply couldn’t wait any longer, Amanda stirred on the filthy bed. Her eyelids fluttered weakly and she sat up on her elbows.
“There’s my sleeping beauty,” Delancre said, rising smoothly to his feet and moving over to stand beside the bed. From this distance he could see the raw places on her ankles and wrists where the shackles had rubbed against her delicate skin. The damage only added to her torment and, hopefully, pushed her that much closer to her breaking point.
Daye stared mutely at Delancre, defiant fire blazing from her green eyes. Delancre stamped down his growing irritation and smiled benignly at her.
“You’re really not looking well, my dear,” he said. “You simply must stop doing this to yourself. I doubt your body can take much more. Come now, if you simply tell me what I need to know then all this torment can end. What do you say?”
Delancre had leaned down towards her, his face close to Daye’s as he spoke.
Daye continued to glare at him, and then she drew back slightly and spit in the man’s face.
Delancre let loose with a roar of disgust and fury. He reared back and stepped away from her, Daye’s spittle dripping down his handsome face. He was flushed bright red and his countenance was contorted with rage. Not only had she insulted him deeply, but her action brought home fully how far Daye was from breaking. She was parched, barely being given enough water to keep her body functioning, but she’d been willing to waste some of her body’s precious limited supply of moisture in a symbol of her defiance.
Delancre withdrew a fine linen handkerchief from his breast pocket and fastidiously wiped the moisture from his face. Daye watched, feeling a small measure of satisfaction for the first time in days.
“I won’t break,” she whispered. “You might as well just kill me now.”
Delancre shook with barely restrained rage. The woman was continually the bane of his existence. All of his carefully laid plans were disrupted again and again by her and her damned willfulness. “Amanda, I’ve tried to be kind to you,” he spoke through clenched teeth. “I’ve tried to reason with you, to offer you a fair exchange for your assistance. I’ve always tried to keep your best interests in mind. Yet, again and again, you do the most foolish things. You insist on causing yourself pain. Your stubbornness is your greatest downfall. Why couldn’t you just co-operate? Why couldn’t you let me take charge? Would it be so bad?”
“Worse than death,” Daye replied. “Letting you control me like one of your mindless puppets would be the worst possible thing. I’d rather die.”
Delancre lauged cruelly. “That’s the best part. I can’t just kill you. As much as we both might want it, that’s not an option. I need Maia, and you are the only one who can give her to me. So… we’re at an impasse, aren’t we dear?”
Daye fell back into her mute stance. There was no point in provoking the man further. Whatever he had planned now would happen no matter what she did next, and there was virtually no chance he would kill her now. His words about Maia had been a bitter reminder of that fact.
“Nothing more to say?” Delancre taunted, beginning to pace the small room slowly. “Very well. I’ll have to try and work this out myself then.”
Daye’s eyes tracked Delancre as he walked the length of the cell. He was obviously deep in thought and whatever conclusions he reached would undoubtedly mean more trouble for her. It didn’t matter though. There was nothing he could do to make her break down and tell him what he wanted to know.
Delancre stopped suddenly, a mean light in his eyes as he turned back to Daye. “Ah… it’s so obvious. How could I have not thought of it before?”
Daye watched him apprehensively as Delancre approached her, sitting on the edge of the filthy bed. There was a light of triumphant discovery in his cold blue eyes. He reached out to grip her chin, holding her steady so he could look directly into her eyes.
“What is it that you value above all other things, dear Amanda?” he asked, smirking. “You would have me believe it’s your freedom, your independence, but that’s just not the truth. There is something more important to you. There is one thing you love above all else.”
*My family,* Daye thought with growing terror. She knew that he had finally found her greatest weakness.
“Yes, your family,” Delancre crooned, plucking the thought easily from the surface of her mind. “That imbecile you’ve adopted as a brother… that weakling you’re planning to marry… and of course, your precious, darling little girl. That’s your weakness isn’t it, Amanda? You can withstand any pain or humiliation I might put you through, but if those you’ve come to love are on the line, well, that’s a different thing altogether.”
Delancre paused. He could finally see the light of true fear in Amanda’s eyes. This was it. This was the key. He just had to turn it the right way, and the lock would pop open. Amanda’s secrets would be his.
“Well, you should realize that they are not safe from me, Amanda,” Delancre said. “Remember what I’ve done to those you loved in the past. Even your mother. You don’t know, but I was the one who came to her and warned her that your father would be in danger if they stayed together. He was just a man, nothing spectacular about him, but it didn’t work into my plans to have him stick around.”
Daye should have been shocked at his words, but somehow she wasn’t. The more she learned of this man’s evil machinations, the less surprise she felt. He’d dedicated himself, it seemed, to trying to push her down a certain path. Still, her heart ached for the love her mother had sacrificed unnecessarily.
“I had to be the only father figure in your life,” Delancre continued, his grip tight and bruising. “I had to be sure you were left alone and vulnerable when your mother died. Oh yes, I knew she was going to die, too. I knew the whole of the prophecies and the curse on your bloodline. I knew you would be the one to break it as well. I arranged for your little boyfriend’s assignment in Ireland, so that you’d be there at the right time to release Mariah.”
Delancre laughed cruelly once again. “Why, I’m like a god in your life, making your destiny. Isn’t that funny?”
Delancre paused a moment and studied Daye. Her eyes shone with unshed tears and he finally felt that he was beginning to make some headway. *Have to keep it up,* he thought. *I can break her.*
“And let’s not forget what I did to that demon bastard you decided to take up with,” Delancre sneered. “He fought me too, you know. But I broke him. He served me well after that. And, in case you’re holding out hope, I will find him again and this time I will be sure to kill him for good. I promise.”
Daye had listened to all of Delancre’s revelations in despair. She knew where he was going with this. He wanted her to remember the past and fear for the future. He wanted her to believe he could get to Drew and Sam and Maia at any time. Of course, he wouldn’t harm the little girl, but the men had no protection against his wrath.
Daye had begun to really panic, but then Delancre had made an error in judgement. She hadn’t known until that moment what had happened to Ryan. She had assumed he was being held somewhere as well, or that Delancre had already killed him. Learning that he had escaped effectively put a halt to Daye’s growing trepidation. If Ryan had escaped, then he would go to Drew. Ryan would protect Maia. Daye could almost hope that he might even try to muster a force to rescue her.
Delancre continued to taunt Amanda with her past, unaware that her expression had altered as he spoke. He was too caught up in his imagined victory to notice the light of realization dawning in her eyes.
“I’ve made sure you only had me to depend on before, and I can surely do so again, Amanda,” Delancre boasted. “Your friends won’t help you, that much is clear. If they were going to do something, then they surely already would have. And, I doubt your fiancé or your brother will even think to be wary of an attack. It shall be all to easy to grab them and bring them here. Once I have the men you love in my grasp, well, then what can you do?
“So, do you want to go forward with the charade, or are you willing to capitulate now?” Delancre finally focused on the bedraggled woman before him, utterly confident in the what was to come next. “I can go ahead and send men out after them all, but I promise you, as frustrating as you’ve been of late, Drew and Sam will not have an easy time of things. It would be better for them if you would just tell me what I want to know now and save us both any further aggravation.”
Daye struggled to sit up, so that she was no longer in a submissive position when she spoke. “Actually, you can still go to hell. I’m not going to tell you anything.”
“What?!” Delancre jumped to his feet. This was impossible. “Do you think this is some kind of joke? Do you doubt for even a moment that I will do exactly what I say? I will find them and hurt them, Amanda. And I’ll continue to hurt them until you decide to give up this stubborn refusal. As long as you are defiant, I will make sure Drew and Sam pay for it. I might even make you watch.”
Daye raised her chin proudly. “I’m not afraid of you, not at all. I know Sam and Drew can take care of themselves. You can’t touch them. Give it up, Ambrose. I won’t give you what you want, no matter what tactics you take.”
Delancre’s eyes narrowed in fury. He wanted to strike the woman, to beat her into submission. He could barely control the raging passion inside. He knew, though, that if he struck Amanda now, he would probably not stop until she was dead. So he took a careful step away from her.
“We’ll see,” Delancre hissed. “I’ll bring those men of yours to you. They’ll be begging for my mercy. You’ll be crying for their lives. And, if I’m feeling magnanimous, I may just spare them… After you tell me everything you know. After you swear to serve me always. Then, I might give them the opportunity to do the same. Maybe.”
“You have no power over me… or mine,” Daye said coldly. “You’re nothing.”
Daye’s words rang in Delancre’s ears. Without thinking, he raised his hand and struck. The blow sent Daye falling back on the bed. Delancre cringed. He wanted to hit her again and again, to hear her bones break and see her blood gush. His rage was a white hot entity devouring his reason. He was nearly out of control. He had to get away from her now.
Delancre turned on his heel and strode towards the door. Daye watched, her now bloody mouth turning up in a triumphant grin. When Delancre opened the door and glanced back at her, she managed a brief mocking laugh. The man shuddered and stepped out of the cell without another word.
Kate Sees the Sindell Witches
***Sunday, 20th May 2007 – 10:04am, UK Time (2:04am, Los Angeles Time)
Medical Quarantine Facility, The Coven of Sindell, England***
Introducing Jorja Fox as Dr Jillian Lennon
Dr Jillian Lennon sighed as she cradled the telephone handset between her ear and shoulder, leaving her hands free to make notes as she inserted several characters into an already complex equation.
“Yes Sir, I’m quite aware of the importance of this matter… Well you know, I’ve been here for the past three months, I think they trust me. … … Yes I’ll be sure to do that when I get the opportunity… and I’ll fax my notes ASAP… … … No, not so far as I’m aware of… … … … Well that would be quite an honour… … … okay…”
Jillian paused suddenly as she heard a sound down the corridor; she looked up at the door, covering the mouthpiece with her hand for a moment as she listened cautiously. After a few minutes she swung around in her chair, raising the handset to her mouth. “I need to go now… someone’s coming…”
“Ah, here we are,” said Hestia as she swept her way into the lab with Michael and Kate in tow. They had all met just over a half-hour ago in the Chamber of Elders and after filling Kate in with what was happening they had made their way over to the research and medical facility in Sindell Hall’s east wing.
Jillian rose from her chair, straightening out her white lab coat none too successfully. “Sister Hestia, I’ve been awaiting your arrival… Hi, you must be Catherine?”
Hestia nodded and turned to face Kate, bringing her to the forefront of the group. “Catherine, this is Dr Jillian Lennon, our leading research scientist in the field of biochemistry.”
Kate smiled as she shook the doctor’s hand. Jillian was a rather plain and sensible looking woman with shoulder length brown hair that seemed to have a life of its own, curling and kinking in all directions. Her dark eyes were framed behind a pair of thick, black-rimmed glasses which only served to make her pallid skin appear even more waxy. She smiled genuinely enough though, her deep pink lips unfolding to reveal perfectly straightened teeth.
“Sister Hestia was good enough to let me read through some of your research notes. I found the entries about mana to be particularly useful… but maybe you would like to see our facility before we get down to more technical matters? I’ll need to ask you to wear protective clothing though. Since we discovered the virus we’ve kept all infected subjects in a state of quarantine.”
Kate nodded as she was given a surgical mask, robe and a pair of gloves before being led into a secluded area of the facility. Several beds lined the pristine room, artificial lighting reflecting off the stark white surfaces. Dr Lennon led the way, picking up several medical charts and checking the vital statistics of each patient with admirable attention.
“As you can see,” said Jillian as she returned to Kate’s side, her voice muffled through her mask. “We managed to avert a potential disaster, but things could have been very different.” She gestured towards two women who lay sedated at the far end of the room. Kate’s eyes widened as she recognised them as her friends Julianne and Raiyna who’d been in LA not four months ago for Emma’s funeral.
“We first noticed the symptoms about six days after they returned to England,” continued Dr Lennon. “Initially they ran a high fever, increased photosensitivity, lethargy - basic flu symptoms really. They recovered about fourteen days later and resumed normal duties… that was when the problems started.”
Jillian walked the length of the room with the others following as they observed the wasted scraps of humanity that lay before them. There must have been at least eighteen people of all ages laid out in the room, each connected to a heart monitor and hooked up to an intravenous drip that supplied every patient with a steady mixture of fluids and tranquillisers. As Dr Lennon spoke, Kate’s eyes kept returning to her friends as she stared at them from the end of the bed. She couldn’t help but feel some amount of guilt for their current ill health. If they hadn’t come to Los Angeles to support her then the virus would never have spread so far.
“It took us quite a while to determine that something was actually wrong,” added Hestia, snapping Kate out of her rumination. “But the vicious behaviour, the wilful disregard of morals, flouting of rules… everything that you listed the other day, and it spread too, it wasn’t long before a good twenty percent of the coven were displaying similar behavioural defects…”
“Things were rapidly getting out of hand,” explained Michael. “We had to issue a complete lock down. No one was allowed in or out of the castle walls. Thankfully we were able to preserve the chain of command, otherwise complete and total anarchy would have ensued.”
“I ran several diagnostic tests,” continued Jillian, handing Kate a set of notes. “Blood tests, psychometric evaluations… the CAT scans produced the most useful information.”
*Of course,* thought Kate as she looked at the doctor’s notes, *just like the tests that Longwood Inc. ran to determine whether I had the virus or not.*
“Let me guess,” said Kate with a smile, “you noticed an increase in the amygdala.” At the confused looks she received from the Elders, Kate continued, “That’s the site of emotional experience, part of the limbic system.”
“That’s correct,” affirmed Jillian with a slight smile. “The amygdala is a small neuro structure of the brain that’s responsible for producing and responding to negative emotions such as anger, defensiveness and fear. It’s also a primeval arousal centre and prompts the release of excitatory hormones such as adrenaline into the blood stream. It also works through the hypothalamus which is particularly sensitive to the chemical sense of smell, which is interesting because…” Jillian picked up another chart and flicked back through the pages, pointing towards a single peak, “…it appears that one of the virus’s initial triggers is a particular scent.”
Jillian picked up a set of test tubes, holding one out to Kate. “Smell, go on…”
Kate took the tube and removed the stopper, coughing and spluttering a little as the foul smell assailed her nostrils.
“Nasty huh?” grinned Jillian. “It’s a sulphuric compound that becomes potent after 24-hours of being infected with this… Hyde 232, did you call it?” At Kate’s nod she continued, “The strange thing is, I had to extract the chemical and blend it with a synthetic hormone to get a positive reaction. Otherwise it seems to be odourless to anyone who isn’t infected. Quite ingenious really.”
“I could think of a few other words to describe it,” said Hestia under her breath.
“You said that over twenty percent of the coven were infected?” asked Kate in confusion as she looked around the relatively small proportion of patients that lay in the room. “So… you managed to find a cure?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Dr Lennon, “despite my best efforts. But during the past two weeks it seems that… I don’t know, I guess the virus just ran its course. A few subjects seemed to have a complete remission though I’m keeping them in a separate facility just to be on the safe side. It could just turn out to be a tactical manoeuvre, a sort of incubation period where the virus lays dormant as it regenerates itself - like I said, ingenious.”
“I’ve discovered that the potency of the virus appears to be directly proportional to the mana levels of a particular person,” said Kate thoughtfully, as Dr Lennon led them back outside. “Whenever a subject expends high amounts of mana the virus appears to weaken; that’s how I determined the connection between the two. That, and I managed to actually communicate with a subconscious psychic manifestation of the virus…”
“You established contact… with a virus?” repeated Michael in surprised astonishment, shaking his head. “That’s… Well, it’s unprecedented… amazing…”
Kate blushed a little at the man’s enthusiastic praise, returning her focus to Dr Lennon. “Well the breakthrough didn’t come until I read an article by Greenwood that linked living energy reflux to the substance mana. Since then I’ve been trying to work on some form of mana extraction or draining…”
“Of course,” agreed Jillian with a slight smile, “if the virus feeds from… mana, as you call it, then removing it would effectively starve the virus into submission. Now that’s ingenious,” she laughed, taking off her glasses and wiping them on her lab coat. “The simple ideas are always the most effective.”
“Well, so far I haven’t been able to perfect the process,” admitted Kate. “I was hoping that I would be able to use your facilities here, I’ve a feeling they’d be a bit more sophisticated than my kitchen.”
Jillian laughed again, replacing her glasses on her broad nose. “I don’t see why not?” she said, glancing at the two Elders who both nodded in agreement. “Though I’d like to run some tests on you, if you don’t mind. Find out why you’re immune. It might help us develop a cure, after all,” she said with a poignant glance at Michael. “There has to be some reason why you’re not infected…”
Michael smiled, wrapping an arm around Hestia’s narrow shoulders. “I think that’s our cue to leave. We’ll drop by later and see how you’re progressing.”
“Oh, there was just one other thing,” said Hestia as she turned to leave. “Catherine, I meant to invite you and your husband to a small soiree I’m throwing in honour of the safe arrival of our 31st Warrior Circle. I think it would be a nice chance for you to catch up with some of your old friends. I do hope you can make it…”
Kate smiled outwardly but inside she rolled her eyes. She’d been to many of Hestia’s ‘soirees’ in the past and they weren’t particularly spectacular, normally filled with boring stuffed shirts who liked to brag about their successes while drinking excessive amounts of brandy. Normally she would have protested that she had too much work to even contemplate taking time out to socialise, but something in Hestia’s tone made it clear that her attendance was to be expected.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Hestia.”
Ambrose Gives the Order
***Sunday, 20th May 2007 – Late Night - Ambrose Delancre’s Study***
Ambrose sighed as he slumped into a leather armchair, swirling his index finger in his glass of brandy. The past few days had afforded both successes in the form of the divine Alessa finally yielding to his persuasions… and failures in the form of the arrogant Amanda who still steadfastly refused to surrender to his will. Then there was this business with Pelor, the Brashak that had escaped from his prison on Isla Nublada.
Ambrose sucked the light coating of brandy from his finger contemplatively. He was beginning to grow weary of all these rebels and all their interferences. His only consolation was that soon, very soon, he would be able to crush them all into oblivion.
“Sir…”
The First Elder looked up at the meek, almost fearful voice that intruded upon his silence. “What is it now?”
“There’s a telephone call… it’s from overseas… Sir, it’s Charles Hammond.”
Ambrose paused, momentarily unsettled before he nodded his head and waved the servant away. Charles Hammond was a particularly untalented mage within the Coven of Sindell; his father had once sat amongst the directors at the Watchers’ Council. His position had only been secured because of the amount of money his family continued to plough into their occult interests, and a great deal of money that was indeed. Though without talent, Hammond did have his uses. He was vastly power hungry and craved the kind of recognition that money couldn’t buy… It had been easy for Ambrose to secure the unquestioning devotion of this eager megalomaniac, and he had more than proved his worth in the past. The First Elder was more than intrigued as to the nature of Hammond’s call; he was not a man known for acting in haste.
Delancre picked up the telephone and rested it against his ear. “Yes?” he asked wearily. It had better not be bad news, he was not in the mood for any further… complications.
Ambrose’s spine became rigidly alert and his eyes narrowed as the man spoke. “Yes, that is a most interesting development indeed. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I trust I can rely on you to… take care of things? Try to make it look like an accident if possible, and make sure not one word of that research finds its way to the Council.”
Hanging up the telephone, Ambrose steepled his fingers together thoughtfully. “So… Catherine Eldridge has a mind to expose my plans does she? We shall see about that…”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Monday, May 21st 2007
2:34 am
Watchers' Council House
Delancre's apartments
She opens the door silently and enters the huge central chamber of the Clinic, looking around as she walks. She's been here; she was here just a few months ago, to rescue Cole. But it's day now, although the light is screened by the strange magical symbols painted on the high crystal dome overhead. And she is alone. Where is Chance? James? What is she doing at the clinic again?
She keeps walking; her feet are bare and tread silently on the loose earth of the upturned floor. Raising her nose she catches a faint familiar scent… Cole? Morris? She freezes, looking at the farther corner of the huge chamber… Morris is there, standing over the crouching figure of Cole.
Her eyes take quickly in the scene: Cole looks so small and helpless… and the vampire reaches to take Cole with his right arm, lifting him effortlessly and smiling through his game face menacingly. Terrified, Alessa runs to his side, scanning the ground to find a stake, a piece of wood, anything. There's nothing. She tries to morph and she isn’t able. She keeps running but her knees buckle under her and she falls heavily with a short gasp.
Morris spins around and catches the demoness by the hair at her nape with his free hand, lifting her from the floor and watching her eyes. "Thanks for the warning, sweetheart," he growls, then he lunges forward and his fangs rip at Cole's throat. The kid doesn’t even have time to scream. Bright arterial blood spurts all over her, getting into her eyes and staining everything red. She shrieks as if she could voice Cole's scream and watches helplessly as he slips limply from the vampire's grasp, crumpling to the floor in a broken heap.
Morris turns to her and grabs her even more painfully by her hair, drawing her near. His face is wet and red, and his breath reeks with fresh blood. "This is just the beginning," he whispers roughly, then forces a kiss on her, smearing her with her friend's life. Shoving her away into the wall, he whirls and is gone.
"Alessa! Alessandra, WAKE UP!"
Her eyes flew open at once. She drew shuddering breaths as she tried to sort out what was real and what was part of the dream. Her body felt cold and she was shivering, covered in sweat. It was a matter of time before she finally realised that she was in somebody's arms. She closed her eyes and made an effort to remember where she was, who he was.
"A- Ambrose?" she stammered. Still in shock, she looked up and saw a pair of deep blue eyes looking down at her with concern.
Delancre put a smile on his face, trying not to stir at the sight of her eyes full of terror. He brushed a wet strand of hair from her face. "Yes, my love. I'm here, everything is all right. Take a deep breath. It was just a dream..." he assured her in his usual caring tone.
Alessa tried to sort out what had actually happened. Was it a nightmare? It felt so real... Tears began to flow as the dream replayed itself in her mind and she snuggled closer to him, suddenly freezing. *So, it was a nightmare,* she told herself. She began to relax and breathe more normally. Delancre was still holding her, making soft soothing sounds and caressing her back. Strangely, it was comforting to know that he was there, breathing and alive; the chain of events getting her to his arms implied Cole being alive.
"Nightmare?" he asked, softly. And she felt him smile against her head. She simply nodded and pulled away a little. She wiped her tears and ran her hands through her hair, taking it back from her face, trying to avoid his eyes all the time. A stale, sweetish taste filled her mouth and she almost spat in disgust, wondering if that was how Cole's blood would taste.
She nodded feebly. "Sí. Th- thanks for waking me… I- I…"
She shook her head, still very much in shock. She hadn't dreamt of Morris for so long, and this had been different. Morris' dreams usually were comforting and tender, not like this one. She shuddered again and surrendered to Delancre's pulling embrace.
Delancre hugged her harder and kissed the top of her head. He'd been awakened by her thrashing and moaning and it had taken him a few minutes to understand what was happening. It was a strange change to have a terrified and shivering Alessa in his arms, and it was a great turn-on. He smiled at that. *What is your nightmare, Alessa? What makes you afraid?* he wondered.
"Do you want to tell me about it? Maybe it could make you feel better."
*Tell him? About Cole? Morris?* her practical side asked inwardly, trying to think what a besotted Alessa would do. Should she tell him about it? Would it make her feel better, indeed?
Sensing her hesitation, Delancre stated, "You know, dreams sometimes tell us what we least expect. We can choose either to make them come true or disappear." He cupped her chin and made her look at his eyes, a slight smile on his lips. In a cajoling tone he added, "People say that if you tell your dreams they will never come true."
She looked at his concerned face for a while and then sighed. "This one won't go away," she whispered. "It's too real."
"Oh? And why is it so?" he asked softly. He sat and rested against the canopy of the bed, pulling her against him and settling her head on his chest. After a small tension, the demoness relaxed against him, and he smiled again. "Why don’t you tell me?" he pressed gently, more than a little interested in this 'too real' nightmare.
She told herself to relax. What could happen anyway? A vampire ex-lover bent on revenge was nothing too suspicious, and she was among 'Watchers' after all. They killed vampires for a living.
"It was Morris, I dreamt of Morris killing me," she said, and told him the dream with little alterations to accommodate the lie. She had already discovered that he didn’t like her mentioning her friends.
"Is that all?" he asked when it was obvious that she wasn’t going to add anything else. "But, dear, the vampire was destroyed in the Hyperion battle! He can't hurt you any more."
"But he wasn’t." Alessa straightened and looked at him again, surprised that that little piece of information had been lost somehow. "Morris didn’t fall at the hotel… He survived, and he's very powerful now. A mage."
Delancre frowned, cursing inwardly about this unexpected news. *Morris Giles is alive? How can this be?* He would have to have a serious 'talk' to the ones responsible for this incompetence. Such lack of efficiency was not to be allowed. "Tell me," he commanded.
Little by little he coaxed the story out of her. Details she hadn't even realized she knew spilled from her lips. Alessa told Delancre about the Guaraní ritual Sorrow had performed and how Morris had helped create the magical barrier that enveloped the wizard, thus saving his own life. She told him about his attacks on her, his threats, the mage army he had been creating, and how she and her friends had hit him a hard blow at the Lone Peak clinic - not getting to kill him, however.
"This is not the first time he's managed to enter my dreams," she said at last, blushing at the memory of some of his 'invasions'. "But it has been so long since the last time that I thought … I don’t know what I thought." Her voice broke and she stopped talking. 'This is just the beginning,' he had said, and Alessa couldn’t help but shiver at the promise. "I should've known he wouldn’t give up."
Delancre looked into her eyes and saw the glistening of tears, yet he was so furious of this breach of his 'property' that he didn’t feel anything but outrage about it. Alessa was his now and no vampire, however powerful, was going to threaten her or violate her in any way. His people had vampires like Morris Giles for breakfast every day. The thing had no chance against all the power of the Council. *Enjoy your life, vampire, it's not going to last,* he thought.
“Alessa.” He brushed the tears away with his thumb and smiled. “Nothing will ever happen to you. I won't let you be hurt in any way,” he told her and she frowned.
“How can you be so sure?”
“My dear, give me a little credit. I am First Elder of the Watchers' Council. Morris Giles won't stand a chance. Just leave it in my hands," he smugly said. "He won't bother you any more, I promise you.”
He saw comprehension creep into her eyes. Her fear of the vampire was strong, but she recognized his power and position and showed the proper awe for it. He felt like laughing when she knelt excitedly next to him and looked at him with gratitude in her eyes.
"You don’t know how much this means to me, Ambrose!" Alessa almost shrieked, and jumped into his arms. "I've been in constant dread since I learnt of Morris' turning."
"Come on, my love; killing vampires is what we do, we would just be doing our job!" he protested, but he laughed anyway, enchanted with her response. It didn’t hurt him to play champion to her damsel in distress. "Now, I happen to know the perfect medicine for dreamless nights…" he said and pulled her down next to him again.
Alessa smiled broadly and let herself be enveloped in his arms. Before passion overrode her thoughts she pondered about this unexpected turn of events. To dispose of Morris in such a way had never crossed her mind, but now that she was playing this game she could as well benefit from its side effects. Let the Council and the First Elder do their job; she was doing hers.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Monday, May 21st 2007
9:15 am
Watchers' Council Barracks
“Look,” Kyle spat, violently. What little patience he had was wearing out fast. “Let me say this again. I don’t want to be here, doing this. But by skipping it, for some reason I can’t imagine, I pissed off Herr Ana, which means I’m off active duty until it’s done. So, by being here and doing this I can get out there sooner.”
The servitor opened his mouth to say something, but Kyle waved a cleaning brush in his face and cut him off. “No, don’t give me any buts. I don’t give a damn who sent you or who wants to see me. I’m not going, ’cos going means I’m off active duty longer and I’ll earn more of the Fuhrer’s wrath, which landed me here in the first place. Am I getting through to you at all?”
Although his posture was threatening, Kyle wasn’t quite sure if the cleaning brush, the disposable gloves and the cleaning apron brought it off. He decided to wave the brush around a bit more.
The demonic servitor eyed the menacingly-waved cleaning brush and chose his next words carefully. “I am here to inform you that you are indeed back on the active roster and your disciplinary duties have been suspended indefinitely.” Kyle’s shocked expression, as opposed to his violent one, told the servitor he had made a good start. “In fact, the Lord Delancre wishes to see you this minute.”
*Back on the active roster? Suspended indefinitely?* The demon repeated the words in his head, tossing the brush in the general direction of the cleaning equipment. He looked around the latrines that he had been in the process of cleaning. *I’m out of here!* Quickly, he pulled off the apron and the gloves, dumping them all in the hands of the servitor. “Hate to leave this to you, pal, but I’ve got an appointment with the good Lord.”
***
“Now, Mr. Ashton, I want you to make this your top priority. Do I make myself clear?” Delancre asked from behind his desk. His fingers were interlocked before his face, his expression deadly serious.
*Well, right now my top priority is cleaning the area that a demon army relieves itself in. I’m sure I could make the sacrifice,* Kyle thought but, a testament to his conditioning, kept his tongue before the First Elder. “Yes, of course. I’ll get on it right away.”
Delancre beamed. “Excellent. This mission is of personal importance to me, Mr. Ashton, and I expect to see results quickly.” Kyle heard the door open behind him, but didn’t turn to look. The First Elder peered round him, nodded, and looked back. “Ah, here’s Moore to give you the full briefing now. One last thing: do not fail me, Mr. Ashton. Failure is not an option in the Watchers’ Corps, and no more so than on this assignment.” *Because if there is anything in Alessa’s life she fears, it must be me. Any form of rival is unacceptable,* Delancre thought. But Kyle did not need to know this.
Kyle bowed his head in respect. “I’ll certainly do my best.”
“Good. I hope to hear of this Morris Giles’ death shortly. You are dismissed, Mr. Ashton.” The First Elder leant back in his chair and watched as Kyle followed Moore out the office. This loose end had gone on long enough. It was past time it was tied up.
After a few more minutes thought, Delancre turned back to another loose end he was confident would soon be resolved; Tasil’s report on his progress in tracking Pelor.
A Night to Remember - Part One
***Monday, 21st May 2007 - 7:44pm, UK Time – Kate and Galen’s quarters at The Coven of Sindell, England*** (11:44am, Los Angeles Time)
Galen looked in the mirror and straightened his tie as he waited for Kate to finish getting ready. They had been invited to a celebratory dinner with the coven Elders and a number of other notable witches that had just arrived home from a mission in Nairobi after disposing of a particularly dangerous demonic entity that had plagued the local towns for years. It was supposed to be a matter of some considerable importance to Sindell, adding more credence to their recovery in the aftermath of Serapis’ evil machinations. Even now, almost two years on from that terrible event Sindell still received bad press amongst their contemporaries, and so every victory was celebrated as a step towards their future prosperity.
Galen checked the time as he fastened his watch to his wrist; he’d worn his best suit for tonight, realising how important it was for them to take every opportunity to make a good impression with the Elders. Since their arrival, Kate had spent an inordinate amount of time in consultation with her former superiors, telling them everything that she knew of Ambrose Delancre and his plans. And when she wasn’t engaged with the Elders she spent almost every hour in the coven laboratory with Dr Lennon as they struggled to make progress in finding a cure for Hyde.
But aside from the demands of duty, Galen was also hoping that they’d get the opportunity to relax a little, maybe even have some fun. The past few days had been enormously stressful for both of them, a night off from all that would no doubt do them the power of good.
“Kate? Are you almost-?” began Galen and then stopped as Kate emerged from the bathroom, his jaw almost hitting the floor.
“I’m ready, okay?” said Kate as she flicked back her long tousled curls and rolled a hand down her slender waist, smoothing out the skin-tight sheath of black silk that clung to her body in all the right places and cut away at one side to reveal her bare shoulder.
She picked up her bottle of scent, Artemisia, from the table and used the small glass stopper to dab a little behind her ears and in the crook of her elbow. Galen watched her every move with wide, awed eyes; it had been a long time since Kate had looked quite so amazing and it took his breath away. The enchanting warmth of her eyes, the sensuous pout of her full lips… She looked so undeniably sexy that Galen found it difficult to take his eyes off her for a single moment.
“Can you help me with this?” asked Kate, turning to her husband and holding out her wrist and a diamond bracelet that he’d bought her last Christmas.
Galen held Kate’s slim wrist gently in his hands as he fastened the delicate clasp in place. When he was done he held on to her hand, turning it over in his own as though reluctant to let go. “You look so…” he said reverently, his eyes taking another moment to gaze at her appearance. “Just, wow…”
“You like?” asked Kate with a furtive smile. Since their arrival she had been so busy with the Elders or Dr Lennon that she had been unable to spend much time with her husband, and when they did manage to get a few minutes together she was too exhausted to be anything but poor company. Kate was hoping that tonight they’d get a chance to at least spend some quality time together.
“Is the drool apparent?” chuckled Galen, absently wiping at his mouth just in case the answer was yes. Kate laughed and sauntered over towards the bed with all the fluid grace of a jungle panther. The snugness of the ebony fabric emphasised her curves so exquisitely that Galen had to take a moment to compose himself.
*Come on Eldridge, get a grip!* he urged himself silently as he picked up his jacket from the back of a chair and eased on the expensive fabric.
“Well…” said Kate appreciatively as she turned around and caught sight of her husband. She walked back across the room and draped her arms around his shoulders. “Don’t you look handsome, Mr Eldridge?” she teased with a slight smile. “Your wife is a very lucky woman indeed.”
Galen had to stifle a groan as Kate’s lithe body lightly brushed up against his own. “Not so close if you don’t mind,” he chuckled again, slipping out of her embrace but leaning in to kiss her cheek lightly. “I might not be able to restrain myself…”
Kate pouted in disappointment and picked up her wrap, a wisp of dark burgundy satin and began arranging it over her arms. “You spoil all my fun.”
“And you delight in teasing me, you wicked woman,” laughed Galen as he helped Kate with her wrap. “You look absolutely stunning,” he whispered quietly as his hands grazed her bare shoulders and he leaned in to catch the delicate hint of her scent, jasmine mingled with vanilla. Going out was the absolute last thing on his mind right now. He wanted nothing more than to scoop Kate into his arms and carry her over to that large four-poster bed and make love to her all night like he should have the first night that they’d arrived. The matter wasn’t helped by the fact that he’d been without sex for an awfully long time now. It was getting to the stage where cold showers just didn’t work any more and even the merest glimpse of Kate’s naked flesh had him excited beyond all reason. The way she looked tonight, the way she smelled, the sexy way in which she moved with a slight swing to her hips… it was pure torture.
“Well… I think we’d better go,” said Kate as she glanced up at Galen over her shoulder. “We wouldn’t want to be late.”
***The Great Hall of Sindell***
“I thought they said this was an ‘intimate gathering’,” speculated Galen suspiciously as they followed a large crowd of people towards the Great Hall. At a guess he’d say there were at least fifty people here if not more.
“This is an intimate gathering,” replied Kate, leaning in to whisper into her husband’s ear as she led the way through the large arch that opened out into the banqueting hall.
Everything was just as Kate remembered it from the heavy drapes framing the tall lead windows and the duck egg blue velvet wallpaper, to the regency style furniture and polished mahogany floor. Positioned in the centre of the room was a large table that must have stretched at least eighty feet from one end to the other. It was obvious that every attention to detail had been made for tonight’s festivities. The finest bone china adorned every place setting along with silver cutlery and rich, cut-glass decanters full of crimson liquor. Overhead, crystal chandeliers glowed with delicate candlelight, sending reflections off every surface that gleamed with opulent abundance.
“Why, my dear Catherine. You look simply radiant this evening,” said Christian as he caught sight of his old protégé and her husband. He swept across the hall, his robes of ceremony twirling and trailing across the floor as he moved. He took Kate’s hand and clasped it in both of his joyously before kissing it in a cavalier fashion.
“I’m so glad the both of you decided to join our little soiree this evening. I know Hestia can be a little bristly but we are both very pleased to have you back in our family…”
“You could have fooled me…” mumbled Galen under his breath, remembering just how ‘bristly’ Hestia had been that first night.
Christian caught the tone of Galen’s words and frowned a little. He might have taken offence to the young man’s insolent tone, but he had already partaken of a substantial amount of good cheer and was in too frivolous a mood to allow that fact to change. Besides, the man was an American; they were used to being loud and obnoxious.
“It is always difficult when one of our shining lights are snatched from our midst, Mr Eldridge,” sniffed Christian, ”and we had such high hopes for our dear sister Catherine…”
“I meant to thank you,” said Kate quickly, not wanting Galen’s annoyance to hinder any further negotiations. Christian, Hestia and Michael might not have given their support where Ambrose Delencre was concerned but Kate still held out hope that she might be able to convince them once she had finalised the cure for the Hyde virus.
“For allowing me to consult with the research team,” continued Kate politely. “Dr Lennon in particular has been of tremendous help to me over the past two days. I believe we should have a cure for Hyde very soon, there are just a few slight… technical issues to work out, but with the coven’s help and assistance…”
“Wonderful, wonderful!” exclaimed Christian happily. “This is shaping up to be quite a night for celebrations, yes quite a night indeed! Now come, be seated,” he instructed as the sound of a loud gong rang dully throughout the large hall, “I do believe that was the bell for dinner.”
The evening passed by quickly in a blur of rich food and fine wine. Soup was a deliciously robust bouillabaisse of smoked fish and potato followed by a light pasta dish with sundried tomatoes and peppers in a subtle green pesto sauce. Various other servings followed including exquisite game and literally dozens of different vegetable accompaniments finished with a fine chocolate and maraschino comfit with the most sublimely delicate crème anglaise that Galen had ever tasted in his life.
As the feast eventually drew to an end the celebration was moved to the more comfortable surroundings of the Chamber of Elders where everyone could relax and digest their food as well as conversation. Hestia had returned to her quarters after complaining of a slight headache whilst Christian snoozed lightly on a sofa in the corner, completely oblivious to his surroundings. Meanwhile the remaining guests were regaled with tales from the Warrior’s Circle and in particular the latest mission in Nairobi and the battle against the evil Cheyer’Itar demon.
“It was then that I saw the beast himself,” spoke Hudson Hollis, the captain of the team that had vanquished the demon in question. He stood with his foot resting against the fireplace, his face a mask of seriousness as he entertained the large group that had surrounded him with his fierce tale of warrior bravery.
“Cheyer’Itar…” he paused for emphasis, watching the dozens of faces hanging on his every word. “His fangs must have been the size of knives and dripping with the blood and gore of his latest victim. It feeds off human hearts you know? Anyway… I kept myself low with the forest floor. Watching him sniffing the air, I could tell that he’d caught my scent on the cool night breeze… I knew I had to make my move or else I’d end up as his next meal…”
Kate smiled at Hudson as he imitated the lumbering gambol of the Cheyer’Itar, raising his arms above his head like two great horns for effect. She turned to Galen and combed her fingers through his hair lovingly, sipping at her glass of champagne as they listened to the story. The evening had been quite enjoyable; good food and the chance to catch up with some of her old friends, even if she hadn’t had the chance to further petition the Elders.
Galen gazed up at his wife from his position on the floor huddled next to her legs. He’d had a very pleasant time too and was loving the opportunity to see not only where Kate had spent her formative years but also getting to know some of her friends. Sindell Hall seemed like a marvellous place for a child to grow up, so full of fantasy and wonder. Galen could still hardly believe that people lived in such a place and couldn’t help but feel a sting of guilt deep in his heart at how much Kate had given up to be with him.
Suddenly from across the room there was a raucous flood of laughter. Several people turned to look in that direction where a small group had assembled on their own. Two people had started dancing together in a comical fashion while another whistled a distuneful melody.
“Oh, Gaia, you couldn’t be so cruel,” Kate moaned under her breath as her eyes fell upon one man in particular who was making the most noise in the group.
Galen frowned and glanced over in the direction of Kate’s gaze. “What is it? Someone you know?”
“Unfortunately,” mumbled Kate, trying to hide her face behind her glass of champagne. “Lord Byron Horatio Spencer the third, and just about the biggest braggart in all of Sindell. Please don’t let him- oh look, he’s seen us…” Kate formed her countenance into one of affable graciousness as the man waved them over.
“Oh wonderful…” she groaned dismally, “now he wants us to join him…”
After a weak refusal, Kate finally relented and with a sigh reluctantly accepted his invitation. *May as well get this out of the way.*
Byron Spencer had been with the coven from almost the same time as Kate had, but the two of them had always shared a rather fractious acquaintance, both only tolerating the other for the sake of keeping the peace. Byron despised Kate because of her formidable ancestry and all the advantages that came with it. The Spencers might have titles and money but the Wicchams were one of the oldest bloodlines of witches in the country - certainly in Sindell - and worst of all, their legacy seemed to open doors that remained firmly closed to the likes of Byron. While on the other hand, Kate’s dislike for Byron stemmed from his pride and arrogance. He’d always had an inflated sense of his own superiority and liked to assert that fact whenever he could. His father was one of the trustees of the coven, after all, and what his money couldn’t buy wasn’t worth having in Byron’s opinion.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Sindell’s own prodigal daughter returned to the fold…” announced Byron derisively as the two joined the small group. Byron rose to his feet full of arrogant bravado and too much brandy, taking both of Kate’s hands in his and kissing each with equal pretence. “Catherine Wiccham as I live and breathe! I’m sure it is an honour for us all to be in the company of such an illustrious dignitary as yourself…”
“Why, Byron, I see you’ve not changed one bit,” said Kate magnanimously, masking her displeasure carefully as several people moved aside to allow herself and Galen to sit together.
“Unlike you, my dear,” laughed Byron, settling himself back down on the overstuffed couch and crossing his legs with an air of conceited self-importance as he allowed his eyes to carefully assess his old rival. ”My… you’ve filled out in all the right places since I last had the pleasure of your company. I remember… you used to be such a skinny, underfed creature, don’t you remember Southerby?”
A tall man with a dusty crop of mousy brown hair smiled down at Kate with none of Byron’s condescension. “It’s good to see you again, Catherine,” he said gently.
“Oh by the mighty Thor, none of you are any fun!” scowled Byron, lighting up his pipe and sucking in the air intermittently to get a good blaze going. “I swear I have half a mind to design some potion or other to liven up you bunch of cravenly poltroons!”
“Half a mind seems more than you can afford to spare at the best of times,” said Kate keenly with a wry smile, raising more than a few sniggers from around the group.
Byron’s face reddened furiously. He absolutely hated being laughed at. “So, which one are you?” he asked sharply, turning his focus onto Galen who up till now had sat silently, smiling at the verbal sparring that had passed between his wife and this Byron character.
“I assume that you’re part of that little rebel group that Kate here decided to align herself with?” Byron snorted in amusement, taking another deep puff from his pipe, smoke billowing through his nostrils like a steam engine. “By the horned god himself I never thought I’d see the great Catherine Wiccham resorting to an alliance with rogue demons and vampire hunters to make her way, not even a particularly organised alliance either by all accounts. I wonder that you can stand it, the disarray, the inefficiency… not like Sindell at all.”
“My name is Galen Eldridge,” said Galen seriously, rising to his feet in annoyance at this complete foppish carouser, “and I’ll ask you to speak to my wife with a measure of common courtesy in the future if you don’t mind-”
“Another husband?” laughed Byron suddenly, completely unfazed by the man’s aggressive stance but instead billowing out a cloud of tobacco smoke into the air. “You must be a brave man… Galen, was it? Catherine here has a rather disconcerting track record when it comes to her lovers in that most of them have a nasty habit of dying. Though, in all fairness,” he added with an air of personal indulgence, “one or two appear to have slipped the net…”
Kate looked uncomfortable and Galen sat back down abruptly, taking her hand and holding it firmly in his lap. He couldn’t believe that she was able to stay so calm in the face of such ridicule. Galen had expected her to retaliate quite fiercely to that last statement but instead she merely smiled a little awkwardly, nodded and took a long drink from her glass of champagne.
“Oh Byron, do be quiet for once,” lamented a middle-aged woman uneasily, hoping to stop this conversation from degenerating too far. She closed her eyes tiredly and raised a hand to her head as though feigning a headache.
“If you have a malady, dear sister Abigail, then perhaps you should retire along with the rest of the recreants. None of us have time for you or your ailments. This is supposed to be a party, is it not?” Byron rose to his feet and walked over to a small table, refilling his glass with the intoxicating liquor of his choice. It irritated him to no end that he’d been unable to get under Kate’s skin so far; he used to love riling her up, watching her get so angry and frustrated…
“Though it sometimes seems to me,” he added thoughtfully, “that I am the only person here capable of having fun.”
“Fun at the expense of others,” muttered Abigail as she got to her feet and walked off, an annoyed glare in her eyes.
Byron sighed irritably, draining his glass before refilling it again. “The problem we have here,” he announced matter-of-factly, “is that the women think they run the show, always have.” He fixed Kate with a poignant glare.
“You’ve heard of the ‘Old-Boys Club’, Galen? Well it’s the ‘Old-Girls Club’ here. If you don’t have a pussy between your legs then you may as well turn around and walk straight back out. They show you no respect. It’s even worse since that vulgar parvenu Dallinger joined the Elders circle. I swear, he’s worse than any woman. Throwing his weight around… Like he has any right to sit on the council, he’s nothing but a wretched commoner. Just like that moronic half-wit Beaufort. I notice that neither of them could be bothered to attend tonight’s little frivolities, shows a distinct lack of duty if you ask me.”
“I-I heard Beaufort was organising a rather raucous event for this evening,” piped up a young girl with long blonde hair, trying to change the subject. “I-It’s supposed to be the party of the century-”
“Julia, my dear,” interrupted Byron with a yawn, “when you have nothing of interest to say you should learn to keep your mouth shut…”
“It’s a good job the same rule doesn’t apply to you then, huh Byron?” said Kate swiftly, taking a sip of her drink in a bid to hide her smirk. “We might never hear a word pass your lips, not that I’m sure anyone here would complain.”
Several people laughed again, louder this time, and Byron narrowed his cool blue eyes, glowering beneath his heavy brow. “Gerald Beaufort…” he scoffed, slumping back into his seat. “Have you seen his new lover? Sixteen! Sixteen I say that boy is! And he flaunts it shamelessly; there should be a law against it. Sixteen… good goddess.”
A long drawn-out silence seemed to stretch out for minutes. Everyone looked shamefully uncomfortable – except for Byron who helped himself to another brandy.
“Well… on that note I think I’ll call it a night,” said Kate, rising to her feet quickly.
“Oh no you don’t,” said Byron almost viciously, grabbing her wrist. She’d made a fool out of him twice now and he wanted an opportunity to even the score. “You come here and turn things on their head and expect to walk away again?”
“Let her go,” warned Galen sternly, fixing Byron with a hard, uncompromising glare.
Byron held on a moment longer before raising both his hands defensively. “Hey now, I don’t want any trouble. I just thought we could talk some more. I’m sure everyone here would love to be regaled with Catherine’s adventures in Los Angeles. You might not know this Galen, but your wife is practically a living legend around here since her encounters with Serapis and Janus. And then there was that thing with taking down The Brotherhood last year… well, some of them at any rate, I hear that Valerian is still ‘large and in-charge’ as you Americans say.”
Byron laughed pompously at his own joke before staring balefully at a number of the group until they joined in.
“Though I have to say,” he continued, an insidious grin distorting his handsome face, “that must have been an adventure, that is, once you actually managed to figure out what to do. How long did it take? Four? Five months? After they’d managed to embrace the Slayer and enacted the blood rites to tap into her power source. That was a little sloppy but then, that’s the handy thing with Slayers, one dies and another pops up to take her place, and another, and another, and another… tell me now, how many Slayers died during that entire episode?”
“Now come on, Byron old boy,” interjected Southerby, uneasily. “That’s a bit unfair…”
“Yes, well, with that I agree!” laughed Byron, “there were so many… how could they be expected to keep count! But the ritual Purgación del Diablo… I have to say, that must have been an impressive sight to behold.”
Kate inhaled sharply, feeling the anger that she had held back for so long burn under her skin. She didn’t mind taking a few knocks to her own ego but this was one step too far. Sorrow had sacrificed himself that night. She had been close enough to look into his eyes as he was consumed in eternal fire… never to find rest, never to be at peace…
“Oh yes Byron, it was quite impressive to watch while a dear friend and valiant warrior sacrificed himself to save us all.” Kate rose to her feet bitterly. “To watch while he was consumed by so much energy that his bones turned to vapour. Yes, it was a sight that I will never forget to be sure. But don’t worry that you missed it, we all might be lucky enough for you to witness such a sight first hand.”
“Well, well… my dear Katie!” growled Byron as he also rose to his feet, his eyes glittering in arousal as he grabbed hold of her arms, pulling her close. “I was wondering where that hot, spirited young firecracker had gone, kind of brings back old memories huh?”
Kate pulled back from the man, absolute disgust in her eyes. “You know there’s a reason why they tell you not to play with firecrackers, Byron?” she said coolly. “They have a tendency to blow up in your face when you least expect it.” With that Kate ripped her hands free and made for the door, not even stopping to see if Galen was following.
“Well now mi’dear, don’t you worry!” yelled Byron to her retreating back. “You can blow up in my face anytime you like!”
Galen shot the man a curious but fiery glare before running after his wife. He found her just outside the door trying furiously to compose herself.
“Hey, are you all right?” he asked tentatively, placing a hand on Kate’s bare shoulder; Byron had more than overstepped the mark he had pole-vaulted across it. There was something else there too he guessed, something more than just a mutual disregard.
“I’m okay,” said Kate quietly, having had a small amount of time to compose herself. She smiled, looking up at Galen. “I just forgot what a spoiled brat Byron could be. Just because his dear daddy is one of the Coven’s trustees… thinks that means he can do what he likes, say what he likes… as though the normal rules don’t apply to him.”
“And do they?”
“No, not really,” laughed Kate morosely. “That’s part of the problem. The other is that he’s a selfish, arrogant, egotistical… dunderhead!”
Galen frowned slightly, “So… you and Byron… the two of you didn’t… did you?” Kate looked awkward and grimaced slightly, trying to look away. “Oh… my god…”
“Oh, just don’t go there okay?” Kate laughed pleadingly, tugging on Galen’s arms. “It was a LONG time ago. I console myself with the fact that I was young and naïve and didn’t know better – I always told you I had the worst taste in men… I guess this just proves it,” added Kate, biting her lower lip tentatively.
“Well… I wouldn’t go that far,” smiled Galen, wrapping his arms around Kate’s slender waist and holding her close. “You chose me after all.”
“I did, didn’t I?” smiled Kate, leaning into Galen’s embrace. “Maybe you broke the curse…”
Galen chuckled quietly, holding Kate for a while before he spoke again. “So…” he said smoothly, his hands caressing the small of her back, “you want to go back in there?”
Kate shook her head resolutely. “I came here for Hestia and Christian, but I think making polite conversation with the likes of ‘Lord Byron Spencer’ is above and beyond the call of duty. Besides, I have a better idea…” A coy smile slowly spread across Kate’s face as she looked up at her husband. “Want to go to a real party?”
Introducing Ralph Fiennes as Lord Byron Horatio Spencer III
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Return to Lone Peak, part one
Monday, May 21st 2007
11:18pm
Lone Peak Psychiatric Clinic
Kyle peered through the darkness at the old, rusted gate before him, a cigarette dangling in his fingers. At the top of said gate within an arc the words ‘Lone Peak Clinic’ were formed from the iron. Ivy ran up the gate and the crumbling walls to either side.
It was exactly the sort of thing Kyle would have expected from a Halloween movie. *So, we have the bad guy and the abandoned nut house. Now all we need is some rain, thunder and lightning and we’re right up there with the best of the stereotypes.* Just as these thoughts passed through his head, the heavens rumbled. Kyle looked up and he felt spots of rain on his face. His cigarette caught the rain and went out.
“Great. I was being sarcastic, y’know.” Kyle said, addressing the sky. “But, no. You couldn’t let an opportunity to get at me even a little pass by.” He sighed, tossing the useless butt to one side as he approached the gate. “I’m so glad I don’t believe in you.”
Taking a look to both sides, and seeing nothing but the empty road as it went back down the hill, Kyle leapt up at the gate and began climbing. He hauled himself over the top and dropped to the ground behind in a crouch, his senses alert for any danger.
*What the hell am I doing? I don’t look out for danger. I look FOR it.*
Remembering himself he straightened, calmly lit another cigarette, something of a particular achievement in the now pouring rain and casually strolled to the entrance of the clinic, ignoring the water falling on him.
Moore had mentioned a more subtle way into the nuthouse, something about a sewer entrance. But after inspecting the patched-up doorway Kyle surmised that somebody had already tried that, and decided on another route. The front door seemed as good as any.
When he reached the doorway he noted the boards that had been put up had been torn down by whatever residents long ago and stepped inside. Doing so, Kyle half-expected a mysterious chill to run down his side. He was disappointed. There was no chill, no floorboard creaking, not even a blood-curdling scream. *And no welcoming party, either! How boringly dull.*
Kyle set off down the main corridor, passing through a trashed reception. He hit a bell to summon a receptionist as he passed, but nobody was there to great him any more. INobody living, anyway,* he added. Anybody who had been admitted, or even worked here, would probably be dead by now. And after Morris’ vampires moved in, the same for any squatters, too. *Let’s not forget vampires aren’t the most alive of us, either…* It was a place of death and madness.
*Cheery, then. Why am I here again?*
Standing there in the abandoned reception, Kyle couldn’t help but think of all those who had been admitted to this place. All the nuts. He especially wondered what it must have been like for the people who had worked here on a night like this, with the mad raving away. Probably very freaky was all he could conclude.
He went to ring the bell again, but his hand fell flat onto anther surface. The bell wasn’t there any more. Instead, in its place was a framed photograph.
“What the hell-?” Kyle whispered, then the picture caught his attention. His mouth slowly dropped open as he leaned in closer to peer at it. *No, it can’t be…*
Within the picture, several dozen people looked at the camera and smiled. They were, undoubtedly, the staff. One in particular in the bottom left hand corner drew his gaze. A roughly thirty-year old man. It… wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t. He wasn’t old enough to be working here then…
Yet, the man looked identical to his father.
A crack of thunder made Kyle jump. He looked up and around as if remembering where he was, then looked back at the photo. The man who had looked like his father now looked completely different. Kyle rubbed his eyes. *I’ve got to start getting more sleep.* Taking one last look at the photograph, he set off down the corridor.
Within moments he was into office areas. Office after office went by without a soul in sight. All sorts of rubbish littered the floor, hinting at past illegal occupation. After some fifteen minutes had passed he still had found no sign of this Morris, or anybody else, in fact.
What he did find, however, was interesting. It looked like some sort of battle had taken place in here. Bullet holes were sprayed all over the walls, and several empty clips lay on the floor. Taking a break, Kyle rested against a wall and lit another smoke, wondering who had been fighting who, and why. *Probably just gangs-*
The hairs on the back of his neck rose. Kyle spun round. There was nothing behind him but the empty corridor he had just walked down. He shook his head and turned back around, continuing on the way he was going. *Okay, this place is starting to freak me out.*
Squaring his shoulders, and lighting a cigarette to calm his nerves, Kyle set off into the darkness.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Return to Lone Peak, part two.
Monday, May 21st 2007
A short time later (11:56pm)
Inside Lone Peak Clinic
The rain and wind had picked up, battering the walls of the clinic. Drops of water trickled through holes in the roof in some places, and little puddles and streams were forming across the floor. Every now and again thunder would roll overhead and a flash of lightning would light up the interior. Kyle could hear the wind howling outside and wondered just how far this was going… Other than that, it was pitch black.
More time had passed, and yet still Kyle hadn’t met anybody. In fact, the only thing that had happened was he was starting to get more and more freaked. The place just had a really unnatural vibe to it.
And worse, at the rate his nerves were going at he was going to run out of smokes soon.
A huge thunderclap broke, and a flash of lightning illuminated the corridor Kyle stood in.
Kyle froze. In the brief flash of light he could have sworn he saw a face looking at him through the porthole-windows of the double doors ahead. A pale, haunting face with sunken and dark eyes. He blinked, and the face was gone.
The demon stormed towards the double doors. There was no way he would be intimidated by some skulking, slinking drug-addict hanging around.
Shoving both doors open, Kyle stepped into the large room beyond. Some sort of commons room, once – but with a difference. There was a large sunken pit in the middle of the floor, and all sorts of arcane symbols and devices scattered around. *Yup, I think it is safe to say Morris was once here.* There was, however, no sign of the owner of the face. *Probably scuttled back into whatever hole he climbed out of.*
For a few minutes Kyle wandered around and inspected the room. Again he noticed signs of combat, but it looked like the main battle took place here. And down in the pit it looked like somebody had once been held as a prisoner, or sacrifice.
He rethought his gang war scenario. More likely, Morris was up to something here and somebody didn’t like it. A rescue mission, maybe? But this place would have been filled with vampries, not least forgetting the big one, too… surely a rescue mission was insane? Why would they risk their lives like that?
Whatever, it didn’t matter any more. The rescue had succeeded or failed some time ago. *And now it’s up to me to pick up the pieces.*
Lightning flashed again, and once more Kyle caught sight of the face in another window, the same one he had walked in through. He set off into a run, bursting through the doors back into the corridor. But it was empty. Kyle jogged up to the end of the corridor, peering in all the rooms he passed. There was still no sign of the owner’s face.
“Okay, I’m not going to play your cat and mouse game any more. Come out here and face me, you bastard,” he said to the air.
There was no answer.
“Damn druggies,” he muttered, and set about continuing his search.
A shout up ahead made him look up sharply. Grabbing his stake from his pocket he set off into a run just as the shout turned into a scream.
Kyle darted down a corner, rounded another, a third, a fourth. The scream seemed just ahead, but every time he seemed to get close it was always round a further corner…
He came round a last corner just as it abruptly cut off. Kyle looked around at his surroundings and judged he was somewhere in the part of the clinic they kept all the nuts. *Fantastic.* All the doors to the rooms were shut-
*But one. There’s always one…* Kyle gripped his stake harder and inched towards it. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the doorway. Taking a deep breath he peered round the frame and looked inside.
There was a body on the padded floor. Female, face-down. Blood, shockingly red against the strangely unfaded white pads, was slowly pooling around it. Another peal of thunder cracked. Kyle frowned, against the out of place body and the stereotype, and took a few steps into the room. His feet slapped in the blood as he walked over. There was a large, ugly, gaping wound in her back, he noticed. And puncture wounds up her arm. Probably a druggy hit by gangs. Slipping the stake back into the belt of his trousers, Kyle crouched down by the body and reached out a hand to roll it back.
The demon gasped in shock as he saw her face and fell back, his hands flying out wildly to support him but slipping on the blood. Kyle hit the floor on his back in a splash, blood going everywhere, especially all over him. But his wide eyes were still riveted on the corpse whose face looked up lifelessly.
A face he knew.
His mother’s…
With increasing horror he looked at the blood on his hands, her blood… and suddenly he found in his left hand a knife, with blood on it… her blood…
Desperately, Kyle dropped the knife as if it was on fire and scrabbled to his feet, his legs slipping on the slick floor. More than once he kicked the body, rolling it over onto its front again.
Back on his feet, he took a moment to compose himself. Maybe he was wrong. He was probably still freaked out from thinking he saw his father. Yeah, that must be it. Kyle bent down to roll the body over once more, just to check.
As he did so, lightning lit up the room. For an instant his mother’s face – yes, it was still hers – transformed into something hideous and grotesque. Her eyes were completely white, something writhed under her skin and her mouth was a gaping, twisted maw from which cockroaches emerged. And she was reaching up to try and grab him…
Kyle leapt up with a yell, turned around and slammed into the closed door. *When did it close?* he asked himself, then heard a moaning behind him. Swallowing, he yanked the stake from his belt, and spun back around.
Neither his mother nor her corpse or deformed appearance stood before him, but something else entirely. Something dark and terrible that radiated horror. A ghostly creature whose long, black hair contrasted sharply with her otherwise ethereal paleness. Its face was contorted into a mask of pure terror.
Kyle was drawn towards the knife he had dropped; the knife now held menacingly in the thing’s hand, then looked back at it.
“Fuck off,” he told it.
The thing did not oblige. Instead, it swung the knife at him in a long, sweeping arc. Kyle jumped back, but found himself pressed up against the shut door. Again, the knife swung towards him. This time the demon ducked under it, then threw up his hand to catch its arm.
His hand went right through it.
Kyle’s eyes widened in shock. “Of course! I’m a moron. You’re a fucking ghost! You can’t hurt me!” He beamed broadly. “Come on, then. Give me your best shot. Not like you can even touch me-”
The thing stabbed him in the belly.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Return to Lone Peak, part three.
Tuesday, May 22nd 2007
Immediately thereafter (12:41am)
Inside Lone Peak Clinic
Kyle gasped, the stake falling from his suddenly numb fingers. He looked down at his chest to see the knife protruding, blood gushing from the wound around it. An all-consuming pain flooded through him and he watched in detached curiosity as his lifeblood poured from him.
Outside, the howling wind and rain and the booming thunder faded away until all Kyle could hear was the muffled beating of his heart and the struggled gasps of his breath.
The thing looked at him for a moment, then vanished.
Then he was falling, falling onto the ground, into darkness… falling, falling…
The Kaoshian demon hit the floor with an ‘umph’. After some five minutes had passed, he realised there was no way he would say ‘umph’ if he was dead.
He opened his eyes to find himself lying face-first on the floor. Sitting up sharply, he looked down at his chest. There was no knife, no wound. No blood on the floor or on him, and no twisted corpse or strange creature-thing. The door was open again, just as it had been when he stepped foot inside.
Kyle got to his feet and checked himself over once more. “Okay… what the fuck is going on here?”
The door slammed shut with a deep boom, and a childish giggle could be heard beyond it. “Hey!” Kyle shouted as he leapt at the door, but it refused to budge. “Open the damn door!” The only answer was a face appearing in the shutter. Kyle brow deepened as he realised it was the sunken, withered face he had seen earlier. It giggled, then slammed the shutter closed. The giggle continued, and Kyle could hear it fading as it went away down the corridor. “Hey! You! Open this door right now or I’m going to cut you a new one! Screw that, I’ll cut you a new one anyway!” He continued to shout, thumping at the door all the while, but still to no avail.
Minutes passed, long enough for it even to become clear to Kyle that the owner of the giggle wasn’t coming back, and so he stopped his thumping and stepped away from the door, sitting down on the pads. *Well, at least it is fairly comfortable to sleep here…*
With a buzz of electricity, lights flickered on in the corridor, and then in Kyle’s cell. “What now?” he asked aloud, climbing to his feet.
He paused as he heard footsetps coming down the corridor. These weren’t any ordinary footsteps, but deep, booming ones that made Kyle want to go and hide in the corner. They got louder and louder as they got closer and closer, and without a doubt Kyle knew they were coming for him.
They stopped right outside the door, and Kyle heard the ‘click’ of a key being inserted into a lock. Then the door swung open, and Kyle took a step backwards as a tall man dressed in a medical coat and carrying a clipboard stepped in.
“Ah, Kyle, my lad. Good evening. Sleep well?” the man said to him.
Kyle’s jaw worked, but nothing came out. He knew this man… knew him well… and hated him with a fiery passion.
The man looked over him, and frowned. “Now, now, son. I hope we’re not going to have to tighten that again.” Kyle looked down at himself and saw he was dressed in a straight jacket, then looked back at the man.
“Darrel, you bastard!” he shrieked. “I’m going to kill you!” With a roar he leapt at Darrel, determined to rip his throat out with his teeth if it meant killing him. This son of a bitch had ruined his life enough…
Darrel gave a grim smile and calmly stepped out of Kyle’s path. An orderly swung in and grabbed the screaming demon, heaving him onto the floor. As he continued to struggle, Darrel removed a syringe from his pocket. “I had hoped not to have to use this, this time.” He bent down and pressed the needle into Kyle’s arm. “But I see you are still living in your violent delusion.” Darrel bent even closer. “I’m going to help you, my boy. One of these days I will cure you. I promise you that.”
Then he stepped up, and the orderly released his hold on him. Kyle wanted to leap to his feat, to beat the smug face in, but all of a sudden he was so tired… so tired…
Kyle blinked. The clinic was in darkness again, the door was back open. He was no longer in a straight jacket. Without barely even thinking about it he leapt to his feet and dived out of the room into the corridor, and for a long time just stood there, panting, trying to calm his thumping heart beat. When a few minutes had passed, he even felt himself enough to light a cigarette, and didn’t move until he had smoked the whole thing right down to the butt.
This was getting weird. Big time. *Note to self: Never step foot in an insane asylum ever again.*
Briefly, Kyle considered just packing up and heading out. It was fairly clear Morris wasn’t here. But… Delancre had explicitly underlined his personal interest, and Kyle couldn’t go back without any answer as to where Morris was. And besides, it was probably likely that he’d end up back on latrine duty without anything concrete to go by. So he lit another cigarette and, against his best wishes, carried on.
After walking for a few minutes, Kyle rounded another corner, then stopped and looked around. There was a lone door hanging open. *Wait - wasn’t I just here a few minutes ago? Aww, hell.* He turned around, walked back round the corner he had just come round and saw-
An empty corridor with one lone open door.
*For crying out loud…* “Okay, whoever’s out there: this is getting real old, real fast.” Nothing answered him but the rain and the wind and the thunder. “Right, no answer. Of course you wouldn’t answer.”
Kyle jogged down towards the far end of the corridor, rounded that corner, but only found himself back in square one again. “Shit.” Obviously, he wasn’t getting out that way.
He started looking around the corridor to see if there was any other way out, keeping a wide berth around the open room. There was no way in hell he was going back in there. After a few minutes’ search Kyle discovered a grate in the roof. Bending his legs, he let his demon out then leapt and grabbed the vent with his fingers. Eventually his weight on it caused the metal to bend and snap, and the grate swung open. Grabbing onto the sides of the hole, Kyle hauled himself up into a space between the ceiling and the floor of the level above. Old electrical wires ran across the floor and tangled his feet as he crawled along. There was a thick layer of dust over everything, and every few feet he had to stop for a sneezing fit.
At last he made it to another grate. Looking through it he could see no lone open door in a corridor. Kicking the grate out, Kyle dropped down through it, half-expecting to find himself back in that corridor. But, no, this was, thankfully, a different one.
“Hallelujah,” Kyle breathed, taking in his surroundings. “Now which fucking way?”
As it turned out, he didn’t have to answer his question. The lights thumped on again; blindingly bright. Kyle was forced to hold his arm across his eyes, squinting and blinking rapidly to try to adjust. He just managed to recover from the temporary blindness to see a screaming boy come running towards him-
And then through him.
A cold chill passed over Kyle, and he turned to watch the running boy’s progress. He had stopped at the other end of the corridor, just before a window. Outside the rain was beating against the window. The boy turned around, no longer screaming, and looked straight at Kyle.
“C-Cole?” Kyle asked. Then the hallway was plunged into darkness again as the lights winked out. For a moment, the boy who looked like Cole turned into something else entirely. Even when Kyle’s night vision returned, the figure was still standing there; framed by the flashing lightning from outside the window.
“Cole?” he asked again, stepping closer. “Is that you? What the hell are you doing here?”
Just as he got within arm’s reach, lightning lit up the figure’s features. It wasn’t Cole, but that strange thing he had encountered back in the padded cell.
Kyle let out a shout and stepped hurriedly backwards, slipping on a floor that was suddenly slick. He hit the wet ground thinking it must be another leak, but when he inspected his hand it was wet with blood. He looked up to see the thing above him bearing the knife again, swinging it down…
Before his vision went, Kyle spotted a door down the far end of the corridor. Then everything was darkness.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Return to Lone Peak, part four.
Tuesday, May 22nd 2007
Sometime later (1:28am)
Inside Lone Peak Clinic
Kyle sat up ramrod straight. He was in a padded cell, a door open before him. No, THE padded cell. Getting to his feet he stepped out back into the now-familiar corridor. “Right, bored now. And really pissed.”
He walked back over to the grate and repeated the same process as before; leaping up, pulling it down, climbing in, crawling along, kicking the other grate out, dropping down. This time he was ready for the blinding light and kept his eyes closed as the Cole-like thing ran screaming towards, and through him, then opening them slowly. Sure enough, a figure stood at one end of the corridor, framed by the window.
The Kaoshian demon gave it the finger. “Screw you.” He turned around and headed towards the door at the far end.
The corridor seemed to stretch and no matter how far or fast Kyle walked, he could never seem to reach the other end. He turned back round to face the thing, which was still the same distance away from him. “Right. I get your game now.” Stalking towards it, he let his demon out; his fire casting flickering shadows across the walls and ceiling. Strangely, the figure remained in pure darkness until he drew close, when the lightning lit up its horrifying features again. It waved the knife in front of his face.
Kyle stormed right up to it and gave it a strong right hook. He was surprised to feel it connect and the thing slump to one side. Grabbing the knife from its flailing hands he smashed the window with his elbow and tossed the blade outside.
“Not so tough without your shiny knife now, are you?” he said smugly, turning back to the thing.
It opened its mouth and gave an ear-piercing shriek that forced Kyle to throw his hands over his ears. He bore it as much as he could, then gave up and kicked at the thing. The shriek was abruptly cut off, and Kyle lowered his arms just in time for the thing to rake his face with its nails. They were sharp and went deep.
Taking a step back, Kyle tensed his face up against the pain, wiping the blood from his eyes. “Son of a bitch…” He took another swing at it, but this time his arm did go right through it. In return, it raked its claws across his chest; tearing clothing and flesh. Then it aimed for his face again.
Just as the clawed-hand, nails, whatever touched his skin, Kyle let fly with another of his punches. This one connected hard and dropped the thing to the floor like a sack of potatoes. “Fuck off!” he yelled at it, trying to grab it with his flaming hand. Although his hand passed right through the thing, the fire seemed to be doing it some pain. Kyle held his hand where it was, even though it chilled him to the bone, even when it took the shriek up again.
With a final cry and a flash, the thing was gone. Kyle was standing alone in the corridor, no longer wounded. Not giving it another chance to get at him, he took off towards the door.
Slowing down as he reached it, Kyle took a few moments to slow his breathing again. Then he opened the door and looked down. It was even darker in there. He couldn’t see a thing. Yet, something had been trying to keep him from it, which meant he should go in there – at the very least to piss the thing off. The demon took a step.
His foot didn’t make contact with anything, and the next thing he knew he was toppling over face first and colliding with a stair, then rolling all the way down the staircase until he hit the floor at the bottom.
*I swear, I’ve spent more of tonight on the floor than I have on my feet…*
Cursing, the Kaoshian climbed back to his feet and dusted himself down, at the same time checking for injuries.
It was only then that he noticed somebody was watching him. A vampire.
Suddenly, the vampire took off into a run. “Hey!” Kyle shouted, then set off after it. There was no way he was letting it go. He pursued him down a long corridor riddled with bullet holes, then watched him dart into a doorway. The Kaoshian demon plunged into the doorway after it.
But as his feet crossed the threshold, they met resistance he was sent tumbling to the floor. Kyle twisted as he fell, just able to catch sight of the vampire move its leg out from where it had tripped him and back away into a corner.
Kyle jumped to his feet and slammed the vampire up against the damp wall. “All right. Start talking.”
“The bees!” the vampire shouted in obvious distress, his eyes searching the entire room without really focusing on Kyle. “The bees! THE BEES!”
For a few seconds, Kyle just stared at the vampire. Then his face became bemused. “What the fuck?”
The vampire began twisting his head from side to side, as if addressing multiple people. “The bees! The bees! They come, and they buzz! Oh, the buzzing! THE BUZZING! They buzz and buzz and buzz. That’s all they do! All day long, always with the buzzing and the buzzing and the buzzing. And the stinging too! The stinging! They sting and sting, and buzz and buzz, and buzz and sting and sting and buzz!”
Kyle blinked, then punched the vampire and shook him roughly. “Okay, shut the hell up about the god damned bees! There are no fucking bees here! Now, tell me about Morris. Where is he?”
For the first time, the vampire focused on Kyle. “Morris? Ohhhh… Morris. He’s gone, gone away. He just flapped his wings and then he was gone! Free from the buzzing! He knew, he understood the buzzing. And when the bees came he went! Away! Away to… to…” The vampire trailed off in thought. “No, no that’s not right. Maybe it was before the buzzing came…”
“I don’t give two craps whether bees chased Morris off or not. All I want to know is why he went, and where he went to.”
“The bees! THE BEES! They buzz and buzz, and sting, too! Oh, all the stinging…”
Once again, Kyle hit the vampire and shook him violently. “Tell me where Morris went!” he roared in his face.
The vampire fell silent and whimpered. Kyle thought he would have to hit him again, but then he shouted, “The Eye! He went to find the Eye!”
“Okay. This is progress. I like progress. What damned eye?”
“The bees, they told him about the Eye. In all their buzzing. They speak! Don’t you see? Their buzzing is words!” Again, the vampire lapsed into silence. “And so he went, went away. Off in search of the bee of St. Vigeous.”
Kyle’s eyebrow went up. “’The bee of St. Vigeous?’” he repeated sceptically.
The vampire roared with laughter. “No, silly! St. Vigeous has no bee! Only an Eye!”
“The Eye of St. Vigeous…” Kyle mused. “Thanks, pal. You’ve been a big help.” He let go of the vampire and let it drop to the floor, then took a look round the room they were in. Across from the door he had come in through was another. “Where’s that go?”
“No, no!” the vampire cried, pawing at his legs. “The bees, they will come for you if you try to go that way! The bees don’t like it, no, not at all. They don’t like people going without a ticket. You must have a ticket, they buzzed. I wanted a ticket, but they had run out, so I tried anyway. But the bees got me! And they stung! Oh, they stung…”
Kyle watched him carry on rambling for a little while longer, then shook his head. “Yeah, well. These bees are starting to piss me off. They don’t like people going that way? Well, then. I’m gonna piss them off.” Steeling himself for the worst, the demon stepped towards the door and grabbed the handle. He tested to see if it was locked and was surprised to find it wasn’t. Taking one last look at the vampire, who was watching him from behind his hands, Kyle took a deep breath and threw the door open, stepping in to the darkness beyond. The door slammed shut behind him.
He was standing in a sewer. More than that; a sewer he recognised. It was the one with the other entrance into the clinic. Kyle let out a nervous laugh, and began climbing up the ladder into the storm outside.
Delancre learns he can't easily get to Sam and Drew
*** Monday, May 21, 2007, 4:07 pm ***
*** Delancre’s study ***
“What do you mean you can’t find them?!” Ambrose Delancre bellowed at the mage cringing before him. “That’s impossible. Where could two ordinary men and small child go? How is it possible that you can’t trace them?”
“I… maybe… I think maybe they’ve gone to ground in some warded place,” the mage stammered, terrified at Delancre’s rage. “There are a few possibilities, but the most likely one, well… it presents a problem.”
“What are you talking about?” Delancre snarled. “If you know where they are, then we can go and get them, right?”
The mage shook his head slowly. “Uhm, no, sir… That is, I don’t think we’ll be able to reach them. If they’re where we think they are.”
“And where is that?” Delancre asked. “Where could they possibly be hiding that we can’t get to them?”
“The Langley estate,” the mage replied.
Delancre drew back in surprise. They’d moved to Drew’s childhood home. That did present an impossible challenge. The Langleys were wealthy and powerful by human standards, but more importantly the mother had strong connections to the magical community and although she had long since given up the art, her family had powerful magic. She would be a dangerous enemy and interfering with her would arouse the suspicion and ire of many members of their community. It simply wasn’t a smart bet when he was this close to bringing the bulk of his plans to fruition.
“Damn, damn, damn,” Delancre shouted. “That’s just perfect. There’s no way I can get at them there. Damn the woman. She was right.”
The mage quaked with fear as Delancre’s black rage grew. He knew from rumor what happened to those who were unfortunate to be in the way when the First Elder lost his temper. He wanted to sneak out of the room, but he knew that would be unwise as well. He only prayed Delancre would spare him.
“This is just great!” Delancre roared. “Now what?! She won’t break. I can’t risk putting her in too much danger or she might die! And my threats are as empty as she believed them to be! How did she know?! Damnit! I have to find a way around that bitch!”
Delancre paced the room, building to a blinding fury. The mage seated before him slunk deeper and deeper down into his seat. Delancre was completely unaware of the man at that point.
The mage sat perfectly still, watching Delancre’s display of anger in abject terror. After what seemed an eternity, the First Elder finally seemed to burn out some of his anger. He slowed down, and finally dropped back into his chair. He folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward, panting. Finally, he seemed to realize the mage was still there.
“You can go,” Delancre snapped.
The mage jumped to his feet and scurried from the room without a backwards glance. Which was for the best, as he was spared seeing the utter misery on Delancre’s face as he settled back into his seat with a dejected sigh.
Nik, Nightwalker and Drew make plans
*** Tuesday, May 22, 2007 11:00 am ***
*** Kate’s house ***
The Nightwalker paced the quiet confines of Kate's kitchen, waiting with barely restrained patience. Jack sat at the table with a cup of coffee and the open newspaper, doing his steady best to ignore the agitated demon. That strategy had brought him through the last four days, and he saw no reason to alter it in any way. As long as he pretended that their houseguest didn't exist, then he wouldn't feel compelled to act on his great dislike for the man.
At the sound of the doorbell, Jack got to his feet. Nightwalker was headed out the door.
"Let me get it," Jack ordered, passing the demon in the hall. "If there's anyone looking for you..."
"Yeah, right, stay inside and stay out of sight," Nightwalker sighed. Kate had given him those instructions before she left for England with her husband. As much as he appreciated her concern, sitting around and waiting was driving Nightwalker batty.
Jack went to the front door and opened it, not surprised to see Kate's Russian friend on the other side.
"Come on in, Nikolai," Jack said. "Ryan's waiting in the kitchen. I'll go and find Drew. He's around here someplace with the little girl."
"Thank you, Jack," Nikolai replied politely, smoothing out the silk of his new Valentino suit - a gift from Dmitri for some of his work with Jimmy in getting arms shipments in order.
The Russian took off his shades, putting them away as he walked steadily to the kitchen. He still wondered if the notion of Ryan being their inside guy was far too good to be true, which was why he had taken the liberty of putting enough evidence in a safe deposit box that would lead back to the demon if anyone double crossed them.
A long tube under his arm with blueprints, Nikolai forced a smile as he entered the kitchen. "Hi, you must be Ryan. I'm Nikolai Aleksandrovich."
Nighwalker had been standing near the kitchen counter when Jack let Nikolai in. He sized up the smaller man. Dressed in an expensive suit, Nikolai Aleksandrovich didn't look a hell of a lot like he'd be of much help. Nightwalker sighed. What choice did he have, though? He couldn't rescue Daye on his own. It would take help, and Kate had sworn that this guy could provide some of that.
"Yeah... I’m Nightwalker,” Nightwalker replied. "What's that you've got there?"
Nikolai motioned for Ryan to follow him into the dinning room, cleaning off the table. He proceeded to open up the cardboard cylinders and unroll the blueprints. "Maps," he said, laying them out one at a time. "Courtesy of an associate. Everything the city has on file regarding the Council's LA Headquarters. This should help us plan a route of infiltration assuming he hasn't altered the layout too severely... and depending on where Amanda is being held."
Nightwalker bent over the blueprints, scanning them. He nodded. "Ok, good," he said. "I have something too."
Nightwalker left the room. While he was gone, Drew came in from the back door. He had been playing outside with Maia. Sam was out there with her now. Drew wanted to at least be in on the planning stages. He would be no good during the actual rescue.
Without any strange powers or some kind of special training, Drew would be more of a hindrance than a help. So, he'd agreed to stay home and wait when the time came, but doing so rubbed him the wrong way. He wanted to do something, to feel as if he was a part of all this.
"Hi, Nikolai," Drew mumbled as he came over to the table and looked at the blueprints spread out there. "These are of that house, huh?"
"As much as the city had on file," Nikolai confirmed. It was obvious to him exactly why Drew wouldn't be going on the rescue. One look at him and Nikolai could tell that the man was a nervous wreck.
Thinking back over the resources they hoped to have available, he started to glance through the various parts of the blueprints, looking for concealed parts on the grounds. "We're going to need a distraction to draw the heat off whoever goes in. You were the general, Ryan. What's the most distracting thing we can do short of an all-out war?"
Nightwalker had just come back into the kitchen, carrying a very ratty looking piece of cloth rolled up in one hand.
He ignored the fact that Nikolai, like all the others he'd met here, had called him "Ryan". He'd made a point of correcting Kate, Jack, and even Galen a few times, but everyone stubbornly stuck with his birth name. Perhaps they thought there was some significance to it. It really made no difference. Ryan was long dead, and Nightwalker doubted, despite the hopeful dreams he'd shared that night with Daye, that he would ever be that man again.
"There are a few options, I suppose," Nightwalker replied. "The zombie compound, where Natasha's toy soldiers are being kept, some kind of assault there would undoubtedly get their attention. Or... there are barracks... what used to be the stable... here..."
Nightwalker reached out and tapped his finger on a place on one of the blueprints. "That's close to the outer wall, and most of the demons are housed there. If we could come up with some sort of diversion there, that would give us a little time."
Nighwalker paused. "Of course, there's this as well."
He carefully unwrapped the object in his hands and laid it across the table, over the blueprints. It was a large cloth-like page, and it was covered with an intricate map of passageways.
Nikolai's initial shock at the mention of a zombie army passed as he focused on the intricate map lain out over the blueprints. From the looks of it, he was guessing some kind of cave; there on part of it was something that could easily be a shoreline.
And it lead right to the compound. It was one of those sweet entrances. "Oh, this is good for an infiltration - how many guards did you post there?" he asked in curiosity, before the earlier remark occurred to him. "Wait. Zombies. Since when does Natalya know how to make zombies?"
Nightwalker shrugged. "I don't know," he replied. "She's been providing Delancre with an army of undead for... uh, like three weeks. She's been pretty regular with delivering the things."
Nightwalker's mouth twisted in disgust. "I can't stand them. It's so disrespectful, bringing people back from the dead like that. Some of those guys were... they were decent, you know? Still, it's really not my business. I can give you a rough idea of how many there are though. If that'll help at all."
"Numbers, abilities, where the troops are located," Nikolai started, thinking of the things that he would need to plan this sort of operation as a mission. "Where Amanda is being held, locations of guards, patrols, the security systems. The best place to dump the bodies of any of the guards we whack getting in or out... there's a lot of information we're going to need to pull this off. Although..."
Nikolai trailed off as an idea occurred to him. The demon army. Zombies might be more controllable, but even a brainwashed demon was still a living creature. "Do you think it's possible we can start some kind of squabble in the ranks, let it blow up in Comrade Delancre's face?"
Nighwalker looked dubious. "I don't know if that would work," he replied. "The zombies are totally in Delancre's control... and, if possible, I would rather not get Natasha in any kind of trouble. She is callous and self serving, but she did help me escape. I owe her for that. I promised I wouldn't hurt her if she stayed out of my way."
Nightwalker paused, considering. "The demons: Delancre's control over them is very strong. Ana doesn't tolerate any sort of unruliness. Some of those demons are natural enemies, but they never act on that animosity. Trust me, years of being under Delancre's control is very hard to overcome. Still, we can think about it. Maybe we can figure something out... some way."
Nikolai scratched his chin in thought, watching Ryan and Drew carefully. Drew looked lost like he didn't know what to do as Nikolai pondered the situation. "Ana might not tolerate unruliness, but that doesn't mean that some can't happen anyway. Perhaps we could try to play on those animosities, though it would take someone on the inside with contact with the army..."
He paused some as he considered carefully the fact that Tash had helped Ryan to escape. That made Nikolai at least slightly more suspicious, and they knew she was infected for certain. Then he realized something, as his old smirk came back. If this was a complex trick, Natalya would pay dearly. "Perhaps you trust Natalya, but I'm not sure. She has shown nothing but unwavering loyalty to the First Elder around me, despite asking for a spell to keep her thoughts safe from Comrade Delancre. And she's infected with the virus, so if we could get someone inside to get her interested in a fight...."
Nightwalker looked doubtful. Drew cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself. "Uh, isn't Tash..? She's got this virus or whatever too, right? Do you really think we should involve her at all?
"If it does not in some way benefit Natasha, then it is unwise to trust her," Nightwalker agreed. "When I said I didn't want to cause her any trouble that was not because I feel she is an ally. I simply think that I owe her a debt and it would be bad form to repay her with trouble."
Nikolai almost couldn't believe what he was hearing, even though he knew that his thoughts were guided by the virus as well. Though they were right, they certainly couldn't trust Tash. "I never said anything about telling her about the plan," Nikolai noted, before noticing their concerned looks. He sighed heavily as he felt some of their annoyance with him grow. "All right, we'll consider something else, but having someone able to break out a fight there will help. It's not ideal, but this is a rescue mission rather than an assassination. Let me be perfectly honest with you: this isn't going to be pretty. People are probably going to get whacked somewhere along the way at the very least."
*Whacked?* Drew thought, staring at Nikolai strangely. *Who the hell talks like that?*
"I am aware that people are going to die," Nightwalker said coldly. "I'd just prefer if it were them instead of us."
Nightwalker paused, studying the map again. "What about Natasha? If she has this virus, wouldn't it be our duty to get her out of that house and try to help her? If Kate can find a cure... surely it would be better to only make the one strike on the mansion. After Daye is safe, Delancre will surely be on alert. Going back in a second time would be difficult, not to mention very dangerous."
Nikolai turned to face Ryan coldly. "I would like to help her, believe me, but my priority right now is Amanda... and until there is a cure, we can't help Natalya. If there's a cure." He shook his head, moving to look over the map with Ryan.
"I think we can get someone in through the front. I have a guy or two on the inside. Maybe if he starts a commotion over here by the barracks that can create enough of a distraction to buy us some time. Where is Daye being held?"
Nightwalker nodded. Nikolai was very different than the other "White Hats" he had met recently. The man was cold and efficient. He almost didn't fit into the group at all.
"She should be in one of the cells in the cellar," he replied, indicating the area on the blueprints. "The cellar was originally built to store the liquor being brought in by the rumrunners. That's what the tunnels were for, you know."
"If she's not there, then we're gonna need some serious time, cause we'll have to search the upstairs rooms."
Nikolai switched between the various maps available. He didn't look forward to having to search the upstairs room if that became what they needed to do. The cellars though... that looked much more promising. "How many guards outside the prison? I suspect they will need to be incapacitated or killed." Along with any other targets of opportunity he thought, but didn't say.
Nightwalker looked thoughtful. He couldn’t begin to guess what had happened after Daye had been taken captive. He said as much. "Actually, there are no guards in the cellar normally. I can’t say what security measures Delancre has taken since I left, though. The only thing I can tell you for sure is that Delancre doesn't know about the tunnels. He'll undoubtedly chain Daye up, and probably use some sort of spell or something to keep her magic inhibited, but I don’t know if he’d post guards. It depends on how wary he is now. Generally speaking, he has complete faith in two things... the defences of his house, and the utter loyalty of his people. So, unless he suspects serious trouble, he won’t feel the need to post a bunch of guards.”
"And like I just said, he doesn't know about the tunnel system," Nightwalker repeated. "I'm the only one who knew about it, and I never told anyone... although Natasha knows now, since she helped me escape through one of them."
Nikolai raised an eyebrow at that, then smiled viciously. "Which means that if we run into any guards there, I know to take out a contract on Natalya. Always nice to be able to know exactly who betrayed you." He traced a line through the house. They would have to expect the unexpected but it was possible to slip some people through there. "Did she say why?"
Nightwalker was surprised by Nikolai's attitude once again. *Poor Natasha,* he thought. *If this all blows up in her face, she'll have more than just Delancre gunning for her.*
"Actually, she helped me because she was afraid I'd talk," he replied. "Natasha agreed to help Daye and I try and carry out our little charade in the mansion. She knew the truth, but she's apparently not as loyal to Delancre as you all believe. She has plans of her own to betray him. Although, I can't imagine what her motive might actually be."
Nikolai thought for a moment, reflecting on what he had done since he became infected... and wondered how that might change Tash. He knew that before she would oppose Delancre simply to stop a megalomaniac tyrant. But now, he had no idea.
"I doubt it's out of the goodness of her heart. My gut says not to trust her though, and you learn to trust that on the streets." He turned to Drew who was starting to look slightly more disturbed and also curious. "You look like you want to ask something, Drew?"
Drew shook his head. There was nothing he could ask here that wouldn't get him into some sort of trouble. He thought that Nikolai was acting strangely. He was terrified of the idea of Tash as the opposition. He was completely at a loss when they spoke of the realities of this rescue.
"No, go on," Drew replied dejectedly. "I don't know anything about all this."
"Right," Nightwalker said. "Then, we create some sort of diversion. Which I suppose we really need to nail down at some point. And then a small group enters the house through this tunnel."
Nightwalker traced a path from the tunnel near the beach all the way to the house. "It comes out here in the cellar," he moved the tunnel map aside to point to a spot on the blueprints. "That's a good bet, assuming she's being held in the cellar. If not, well it'll be more difficult, obviously."
Nightwalker turned his attention back to Nikolai. "I think the smaller the force that goes in, the more likely we are to succeed," he said. "Obviously, I'll have to go... and Kate..."
"And the necromancer," Drew added. Both of the other men turned to look at him. "Well, Kate and I went and hired him... and he was... he had to be persuaded, so..."
Nikolai looked at the two of them. So Kate had managed to achieve Marcus' aide. That would come in handy a great deal. "We also have Darian and Cole," he said finally. "And me - though Comrade Delancre is not likely to let me in. Darian has access however, so he should be able to help with the distraction. It's best if we divide into two groups for this, one to distract and another to perform the operation. If we need them, I might be able to get a guy or two from my crew, but would prefer not to do that."
"I don't see how that will be necessary," Nightwalker assured him. "If Kate can bring help back from England, we should be all set. Then, she and I, and Marcus Dalton apparently - we can go through the tunnel to get Daye while you and the others distract the rest of the house."
Drew nodded. Finally, something resembling a plan was forming. Now, once Kate came back, they could actually go and get Daye out of that foul place. Hopefully, she would be able to hold out for rescue.
A Night to Remember - Part Two
***Monday, 21st May 2007 - 10:23pm, UK Time – The Coven of Sindell, Warwick, England*** (2:23pm, Los Angeles Time)
Guest Starring Richard E Grant as Gerald Beaufort
“Are you sure we won’t be missed?” whispered Galen as Kate led him through a series of dully-lit corridors and winding colonnades. Though they had managed to escape the celebrations without being noticed he was beginning to worry that they should have at least told someone they were leaving, if only for politeness’ sake.
“Don’t worry,” laughed Kate as she ducked to avoid a low beam. She turned and held her hand out to Galen as she guided him down a rickety flight of stairs into the very catacombs of Sindell Hall. “I’ve been to hundreds of those events and they always end the same - the Elders leave early and everyone else either falls asleep in a drunken malaise or comes to places like this…”
“Places like this?” asked Galen dubiously as they suddenly came to a stop outside an ancient looking door that was deeply imbedded in the thick stone wall and so rusted over it looked like it hadn’t been opened in centuries. Kate glanced around for a moment before raising her hand and knocking firmly, a dull cacophony reverberating on the other side of the door. Galen looked about as they waited for a response, kicking his shoe against the dirt floor. Kate had led the way deep into the very bowels of Sindell Hall; the place was dank, smelled of mould and was no doubt infested with rats. It didn’t seem like a likely venue for a party.
Kate straightened up as she leaned back against the wall, waiting for someone to answer the door. “Trust me,” she said with a smile, “you need to lighten up more, learn to have a little fun once in a while.”
“Hey, I can do fun,” protested Galen as they waited. “Anyway, I thought you said we were going to a party?” he added curiously. He thought they’d at least be able to hear music or other people but there was not a sound to be heard.
“Ah, mes amies! Kitty, Galen, we’d almost given up hope on you two!” grinned Gerald Beaufort as he threw open the door. His face was flushed and his eyes glittered as he led the two inside, removing his top hat to reveal a crop of slick black hair beneath. He bowed low in a farcical gesture, closing the door behind them. “Come on in, the party’s in full swing.”
Galen looked dubious as he glanced around the deserted room. The apartment was empty, with no sign that a party had ever taken place, never mind being in ‘full swing’.
Gerald sauntered inside, his ruffled shirt and pale blue silk cravat giving him a rather aristocratic appearance. “Now my little pretties,” he laughed, waving his arms around and twirling an imaginary moustache with his thumb and forefinger, “we do like you Americans say and Par-tay!”
The man clapped his hands together joyously, holding them high and making a slight gesture as though he were opening a curtain. “Part the veil and through the looking glass.”
Galen’s eyes widened in astonishment as the room suddenly began to transform, swinging in and out of focus and bleeding with colour and loud music until it absorbed the very ground upon which they stood. The scene inside was vibrant, full of sound and intensity. Hundreds of people swarmed around like bees in a hive, dancing and drinking like it was going out of fashion.
Gerald leaned close to Galen, draping an arm effortlessly around his shoulder as he led him inside. “A little cloaking spell. The Elders like to get their feathers ruffled over these things, right Katie chéri? But what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
“Exactly my thoughts,” laughed Kate as Gerald also took her hand and brought her down a set of stairs into the large cavern structure.
High above everyone a large group of musicians blasted out a heavy base tune that seemed to resonate with the same force as blood pumping through a series of arteries. It was so loud that it made Kate’s head hurt for a moment until she became accustomed to it. Below them masses of people writhed around to the sound. The energy that was emanating from the crowd was phenomenal. Kate felt it moving in the air like some wild untamed beast. She hung on Gerald’s arm and smiled.
“You have no idea how much I need this right now.”
Gerald twirled his imaginary moustache again, laughing outrageously like some silent movie villain. “Ah… I thought my petit chaton looked uptight but I thought that might have been down to the lack of… you know, the horizontal tango, the mattress mambo…”
“We… get the picture,” said Kate with a blushing smile.
“Awww, my ange doux, she’s shy…” Gerald took both of Kate’s hands and held them wide so that he could take a good look at her. “Just look at my little duckling,” he cooed. “She is quite the swan tonight! You keep a close eye on this one, Galen my boy; you’re a lucky man, a lucky man indeed!”
Galen smiled, gazing adoringly at his wife while Gerald pulled out a silver cigarette case from under his jacket and lit up one of the slender white sticks, placing it between his thin lips.
“I do so love the young,” he declared as he puffed vigorously on the cigarette, his cheeks hollowing from the strain. “So innocent, so vivacious, so… eager to please!” Gerald nudged Galen in the ribs, wrapping a conspiratorial arm around his shoulders again as he laughed, “Don’t you find so, Galen old boy? Ahhh! Christophe! My darling boy, my sweet angel, come meet my friends!”
Gerald suddenly disentangled himself as he strode, arms wide open towards a young blonde boy not much older than eighteen. “I do so love to corrupt the young and innocent!” he laughed as he brought the boy into their midst with a billow of cigarette smoke.
“Christian and Hestia are so set in their ways, they are good fellows I know, but such terrible BORES,” laughed Gerald, swiping a drink from a passing tray. “Is that not right, chéri?”
“I… that is, I… the Elders are, perhaps… a little stuck, in their ways, maybe…” stammered the handsome youth, completely under the spell of his extravagant lover.
“See? How it is always the way?! My darling boy, you do amuse me so!” laughed Gerald before clapping his hands together decisively. “So… bon, you two are looking for a little action tonight yes? Get the blood pumping in the veins, feel the joie de vivre!” Gerald laughed bawdily and made a gyrating motion with his hips, slapping Galen heartily on the back. “Bon, bon, it is how it should be tonight on this special occasion.”
“And just what are you celebrating tonight?” asked Galen curiously as he regained his balance.
Gerald sighed, kissing his lover on the cheek before waving him away. “What is there NOT to celebrate?” he asked simply, wrapping his arms around the both of them and leading them more fully into the fray, his voice growing louder to compete with the music.
“We are young! Free! Beautiful! The Divine Goddess has blessed us, my little chickens. Now go! Dance! Drink! Make l’amour… for tonight we celebrate life!”
Gerald grinned, tipping his top hat back in place and puffing on his cigarette before vanishing into a crowd of revellers, his jovial voice melting into the buzz of a thousand conversations and the beat of the music.
“Just to get this straight… Gerald is gay, right?” asked Galen with a slightly confused expression.
“Could he be anything but?” laughed Kate, taking Galen’s hand in her own. “Come on…” she said with a tentative smile, “I want to dance.”
Kate held Galen’s hand as she guided him into the middle of the crowded collection of sweaty flesh, weaving her way expertly between the half-naked dancers. Galen eyed this strange collection of humanity as they swayed and rolled to the music’s thunderous beat like an ocean of steaming flesh. He suddenly felt very overdressed and particularly self-conscious as thousands of glittering white eyes stared at him through the darkness, bodies parting like the Red Sea to allow him through.
“I’m not sure…” mumbled Galen uneasily as they came to a stop in the very middle of the throng. This wasn’t really his thing and, apart from Gerald, there didn’t seem to be one person under thirty in the entire place. “I mean I don’t think-” he began, shouting to be heard above the loud music.
“Don’t think,” smiled Kate, taking his hands and placing them low on her hips as she moved in time to the music. “Just feel,” she said intently, wrapping her arms around an uncomfortable looking Galen and letting her body gently rub against his as she danced. “Feel… me…”
Galen swallowed hard, trying to keep pace with Kate as she rolled her hips and shoulders sexily in time to the heavy, thumping sounds filtering down from above though the music was so strongly amplified by the cavern-like structure that it seemed to be pouring in from every direction.
Kate smiled again as they spun around some and she held onto him tightly, shimmying her shoulders forwards and then throwing her head back in a earthly manner before dipping low, giving Galen an enviable view of her breasts.
“OH!” Galen groaned as Kate’s body slammed up against his own, her soft suppleness pressing firmly against his chest.
“Isn’t this wonderful?” laughed Kate as Galen held her close and they continued to dance, their bodies grinding together in a wonderful, hedonistic display. “Don’t you just feel… alive?”
“I… certainly feel… something,” gasped Galen uneasily as Kate’s warm, compliant body pressed up hard against his own again, her legs rubbing sensuously against him as she moved first in one direction, then the other. “Do you think… maybe we could… slow down or something?” he gasped breathlessly. He’d never been much of a dancer; he moved uncertainly with the music and felt awkward and clumsy.
“But, we’re just getting started…” shouted Kate above the blasting music, the beat sounding so loud and strong that she could feel it pounding inside her veins. Kate closed her eyes as she let the rhythm of the song take over, trailing her hands against the outer curve of her breasts, letting them move steadily down her stomach and her hips to rest on her thighs. She tipped her head back before moving her hands up again and tangling them in the long lengths of her hair as she bent her knees slightly and dipped low again, wiggling her hips on her way down.
Galen watched her in awe; he couldn’t help but feel aroused by her complete abandon. She danced as though there weren’t another soul in the room but him and he could feel the heat radiating from her lithe body as she teased her own curves, arched her back, rolled her hips, and flicked her tousled hair back from her face.
“UGH!” groaned Galen again as Kate pressed herself up close once more, draping her arms about his neck again. They swayed in time to the music for a while, their bodies so close that Galen could feel the pounding of Kate’s heart beneath her breast. She was on fire, her skin was hot and glistening and her breath warm and heavy against his neck. He felt an almost desperate urge to lean in and taste her, partake of the sweet fullness of her lips so completely until he took her breath away.
Kate smiled knowingly as she ran a hand against the sweaty brow of her husband before rotating her body around in a sexy little twist so that her back faced Galen allowing her to grind herself against him more snugly. She tipped her head back over her naked shoulder to look at him as he began to move more fluidly in time to her body, his hands firmly planted on her hips as she gyrated slowly against him.
“Having fun?” Kate asked sweetly, covering his hands with her own and moving them up and down against her thighs.
Galen smiled as he began to get into the rhythm of her body, holding her closer and with a greater intimacy than he had dared to in months.
“This is something I could definitely get used to,” he said with a slight grin.
A Night to Remember - Part Three
***Tuesday, 22nd May 2007 - 1:23am, UK Time – The Coven of Sindell, Warwick, England***
(Monday, 21st May 2007 - 5:23pm, Los Angeles Time)
Kate gasped for breath as she laughed with such force, Galen tugging on her hand as they ran through the labyrinth of corridors, not stopping until they were outside their own room.
“Oh… my…” laughed Kate giddily, the combination of the loud music still ringing in her ears, the hot night and the sexual tension that lay thickly between them both made her feel dizzy and light-headed. “That was so much fun… don’t you just feel… I don’t know… alive?”
Galen pulled Kate into his arms as they swayed uneasily in the doorway to their chambers. The party was still going strong as they’d left, probably would for many hours to come, but neither of them could stand to stay a moment longer. For what they both craved right now they needed privacy and lots of it.
As Galen gazed at his wife he very much wanted to scoop her into his arms, throw that door wide open and make love to her with the same wild abandon with which they had danced half the night away. “I do…” he said intensely, holding Kate close as she breathed heavily from the exertion of their run. He gently brushed back a wave of silky red hair from her glowing face and smiled, “I feel more alive right now than I have in months.”
Kate returned Galen’s smile, rubbing her hand up his forearm, her fingers tracing the contours of his lean, yet muscular frame. “I never thought that I could feel happy like this again…” she admitted, her expression turning suddenly serious. “That we could be… together again, like this.”
Galen sighed contentedly as he let his hands cradle Kate’s face, caressing her soft skin as he tilted her chin up towards his face, his eyes drinking in her ravishing beauty. “I want you, Kate…” he whispered, his voice full of unmitigated urgency. “I need to have you tonight.”
“Then have me,” murmured Kate, her own voice breathy and full of impatient desire as she wound her arms around Galen's broad shoulders. “I want you to have me…”
Galen wrapped his arms firmer around Kate’s back, pulling her closer against him. He’d waited so long for this moment: he could feel the heat off her skin almost burning through the thin fabric of her dress, her body squirming in his hold, desperate to be touched. Kate closed her eyes, pouting her lips slightly in expectation of the kiss that was about to follow. Galen gazed down into her pretty face as she waited for his lips to meet hers. He was about to do just that when he suddenly heard a noise from inside their room.
His eyes narrowed as the sound came again, a fumbling, shuffling sound; there was definitely someone on the other side. Kate opened her eyes disappointedly as Galen let go his hold on her and moved over to the door.
“Galen? What is it-?”
“Shhh…” hushed Galen softly as he pushed the unlocked door open gently. The sounds inside were louder, more shuffling and the occasional sound of voices filtered into the foyer. “There’s someone inside… Stay here, I’ll check it out,” he ordered, ignoring Kate’s protests as he disappeared inside the room.
Galen took a moment for his eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness before he moved silently through the room. The place was a complete mess - drawers had been pulled out onto the floor, their contents riffled through and thrown about the place. Clothes lay in piles, bottles smashed on the ground… Galen carefully made his way around the disorder as the hushed voices grew louder.
”Will you hurry up! We have to find those research notes or else… Lord Delancre will skin us alive if we fail him.”
At the mention of Delancre, Galen’s face hardened and his eyes glanced around the darkened room for something to use as a weapon. He moved stealthily over to the fireplace, his fingers closing around the solid iron poker, lifting it from the fireguard. As pale moonlight filtered in through the high windows, two dark figures came into view, hunched up over the packing case that Kate had brought with her from America. The contents littered the floor as the duo tore through books and boxes, breaking and tearing up anything that looked significant and pocketing anything else. Galen moved closer, holding his breath as he got within striking distance.
He caught the first off guard with a hard blow across his back and the man collapsed on the floor with a muffled groan. Galen was just about to swing away at his accomplice when he felt a blast knock him off his feet. He seemed to be flying for a moment before coming back down to earth with a crash, his head hitting the floor by the bed as he landed awkwardly.
Galen groaned, his head lolling from side to side as he struggled to shake off the almost electric sensations that tingled across his skin. From the corner of his eye he could see his attacker getting ready to make another move. His arm stretched outwards and a glowing ball of energy was already growing in his palm. Looking around anxiously for a weapon, Galen’s eyes suddenly narrowed in on his gun, lying on the floor amongst a pile of socks and underwear.
As the ball of energy missed him by the narrowest of margins, Galen threw himself towards the weapon, grabbing it as he landed hard on the floor again, the air knocked painfully from his lungs. He quickly pushed the pistol into the waistband of his pants before pulling himself up to his feet and launching himself at the mage before he had the chance to use any more magic.
The two men rolled around on the floor, a mass of swinging fists and splayed limbs. Galen managed to land several solid blows to the man’s face, his knuckles bleeding with the force of the beating. He didn’t stop until the mage had ceased moving.
Panting, Galen pulled himself tiredly up to his feet, balling his sore hand and wiping a trail of blood from his busted lip as he surveyed the damage. All of a sudden Galen’s face was rushing to meet the ground again, his chin scraping on the hard wood as a solid whack over his shoulders sent him sprawling.
“Fucking bastard!” swore the first mage that Galen had beaten over the back with the poker. He wielded that weapon now, swinging it back before bringing it down hard into Galen’s ribs.
Galen groaned loudly, huddling up defensively into a ball as the mage sent several kicks into his gut.
“Fuck. Ing. Ameri. Cans,” the mage swore again, punctuating each broken syllable with another kick.
Kate had waited for what felt like a decade on the other side of the door, hearing several loud noises and groans from within before she rushed inside. She couldn’t just stand by and do nothing despite Galen’s instructions. She’d been in far worse situations than a couple of burglars or whoever they were. It seemed stupid to wait outside when he might need her help. She uttered a startled cry as she saw the scene; her husband huddled on the ground receiving the beating of his life.
She made a sudden sweeping gesture with her right hand that sent the mage flying across the room as a surge of telekinetic power knocked him off his feet. “My goddess… Galen…” Kate cried anxiously as she ran to his side, rolling him over so that she could tend to him.
Galen groaned painfully, every inch of his body aching. He was pretty sure that a couple of his ribs had been broken if nothing more serious.
“Oh my love,” said Kate softly, stroking her fingers gently against Galen’s bruised and beaten face. “Are you okay?”
“Better than you will be,” came a low, heavy voice, filtering into the darkness. Kate gasped as a strong arm wound its way around her waist from behind, yanking her up to her feet and backwards with such force Kate was powerless to resist. “Don’t move…” the man whispered into her ear, his breathing heavy and panting. Slowly he withdrew a long knife from his belt, the blade glinting in the moonlight as he angled it just beneath Kate’s throat, pressing the edge firmly against her windpipe.
Kate gasped, struggling to breathe as the unknown assailant kept a firm hold on her. Her eyes searched the room frantically, looking for anything that might offer a possible escape. Suddenly she caught a glimpse of her attacker’s reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. Kate narrowed her eyes uncertainly as she struggled to make out the man’s features; there was something unerringly familiar…
“Ha-Hammond?” Kate stammered out, struggling for breath as she spoke. Sir Charles Hammond was one of the most trusted men in Sindell’s operational core; Kate had known him ever since she was a young initiate. “What… why are you doing this?”
Hammond scowled at the reflection and pulled Kate away so that she couldn’t look at him. “It’s nothing personal, you just became too much of a liability. You should never have come back here, Kate.” The man’s voice was both menacing and calm at the same time. “You’ll pay the ultimate price for interfering in the great Lord Delancre’s plans…”
“Delancre!” gasped Kate, almost laughing at the futility of it all. Delancre held all the cards, knew everything, never failed. “So you’re one of his are you?”
“It’s not quite as simple as that,” spat Hammond sharply. “He’s a powerful man, very powerful. You were foolish to try and take him on… as though a little girl like you could be any match for his greatness!” Hammond slid the blade back slowly, ever so slightly scoring the delicate skin of Kate’s throat so that thin rivulets of blood trickled down her neck in tiny crimson streams. “Now, it’s too late. I’m deeply sorry…”
Kate closed her eyes tightly, concentrating with all her will. Objects in the room began to shake a little from the force, several toppling over and smashing on the floor. Hammond glanced around, momentarily surprised; it was all the time Kate needed. She grabbed hold of the man’s arm in one swift movement, using all her strength to pull him and the deadly knife away from her.
“Not so fast,” snarled Hammond as he caught hold of Kate by the hair and yanked her back, twisting the scarlet locks around his fist tightly. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Kate cried out as the man dragged her across the room and thrust her hard against the wall. Hammond’s eyes gleamed darkly as Kate struggled to fend off his attacks, sending several bolts of kinetic energy at him with such force that the air rippled with magic, strong and thick like molasses and the mage fought to hold his bearings.
“Kate…?” moaned Galen as he began to come to his senses more, noticing the struggle between the two even through the darkness that clouded his vision. Kate’s cries and the man’s grunts echoed loudly in the silent room, each sound punctuating the air like a shot from a gun.
Momentarily distracted, Kate’s concentration wavered allowing Hammond to lay a heavy punch across her face. She groaned dizzily as the two of them continued to struggle with the knife, trying to control the hand that held it.
Then suddenly, everything fell silent.
Kate’s eyes went wide as her assailant took a step back, the knife in his hand glistening with bright crimson. She looked up into his dark face, their eyes locking for a moment before she slowly looked down at the blood covering her hands and gasped in horror, stumbling to the floor and grasping at her bloody wound.
Charles Hammond stood silently for a moment. He’d taken many lives before and this was nothing new, but something in the girl’s eyes drove him into stillness. She looked haunted, her face a mixture of surprise and fear, but the way she looked at him was like she could see into his very soul. Slowly, Hammond rose the bloody knife high, poised to make a second, more fatal blow when there was a sudden loud bang.
The blade dropped to the floor noiselessly as the man turned around to see Galen holding a smoking gun. It was the last thing he saw before he collapsed to the ground.
Galen groaned as he pulled himself up from the floor, tucking the pistol back into the waistband of his pants as he limped over to where Kate lay, her breasts rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to breathe. His legs gave way as he collapsed by her side, clutching his chest as he felt pain from a broken rib sear through his body.
“Kate?” he asked breathlessly, snaking an arm under her neck and cradling the back of her head gently. “Kate are you all right?” he asked again in concern as he hovered above her. Kate looked up into Galen’s face, her eyes wide in fear as she pressed her blood-covered hand into his with a slight moan.
Galen looked down, suddenly noticing the blood for the first time. “OH!… God!” he cried out in shock as he saw the stab wound just beneath Kate’s breast. He quickly relinquished his hold and pressed both his hands over it firmly. Kate cried out in pain, her body arching up against Galen’s hands, writhing in agony.
“HELP US!!” he screamed at the top of his voice. “Somebody! HELP US!!!!!”
There was a sudden clamour outside the door before several people ran inside. They had been awoken by the gunshot but it had taken a while for anyone to realise what the sound had been. Gunfire wasn’t exactly commonplace in Warwick let alone Sindell Hall. The screams, however, were enough to wake the dead.
“Wha- what’s going on?” stammered a young woman, rubbing at her tired eyes as she struggled to take in the scene before her.
“Get HELP!” shouted Galen at the group of witches that stood impotently in the doorway. “Don’t you hear me?” Galen snapped fiercely as no one moved an inch. “She’s hurt, she’s bleeding! Get a goddamn healer or something, NOW!!”
Several people turned and ran, shouting for help at the top of their lungs as they ran through the corridors, waking up anyone who hadn’t already been disturbed by the gunfire. Galen sighed in relief, looking back down at his wife. She was having difficulty breathing; he could feel her lungs heavy beneath his hands, struggling to draw in the precious air.
“How you doing?” he asked gently, trying to keep his voice calm despite the fear he felt inside. He knew it was the lamest question in the history of the world but he couldn’t think of anything else to say and he knew it was important to keep try to keep her conscious.
“I’ve been better,” Kate said quietly with a trembling laugh, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m so sorry Galen,” she wept suddenly, tears rolling down her face. “I, I should have listened to you, I should have stayed outside, I’m sorry Galen… I’m so sorry…”
“Damn right you’re sorry, you never listen to anything I say do you?” said Galen softly, trying to sound facetious but his fear and anxiety showed through his voice all too clearly. “Stubborn, headstrong woman…”
“Hey…” Kate interrupted weakly, “don’t think that… just because I’m lying here… you can take liberties-” Kate suddenly cried out again as the pain grew stronger, her body writhing harder beneath Galen’s hands, her breathing rasping and drawn.
“Galen?” Kate gasped, her breath short and wheezing. She looked up at her husband, tears welling up in her eyes again. “I’m a little scared,” she admitted faintly, her voice trembling with anxiety.
“It’s okay,” whispered Galen softly, looking down into Kate’s fearful eyes. “Help is on its way. You’re gonna be okay, I promise.”
Tears rolled down Kate’s face as she continued to struggle to breathe. “I don’t feel too good…”
“I know, I know,” soothed Galen tenderly, “but everything’s gonna be fine, you just need to hold on, okay? Hold on, it won’t be long now.”
Kate nodded, continuing to gaze into her husband’s worried and terrified eyes. “I love you Galen,” she said softly, several more tears rolling from her eyes.
“No,” said Galen firmly, his own eyes welling up with tears. “Don’t you dare say goodbye to me, Kate, you’re not going anywhere.” He pressed harder on the wound, feeling his wife’s blood all over his hands. She had lost a lot of blood, too much blood. He looked up anxiously for any sign that help had arrived, his eyes searching the gathered crowds wildly.
Kate cried out again in pain as Galen pressed harder. She gasped for air. “I don’t want to die…” she sobbed weakly.
“You’re not, you’re not going to… to die,” affirmed Galen though his voice wavered slightly. Kate looked so pale and her eyes so dark he knew she couldn’t last much longer. “Where are all these goddamn healers!?” he snapped in frustration at the crowds. “Where the hell are they!?”
“You’ve always been so good to me, Galen,” mumbled Kate drowsily, her eyes rolling a little as she felt the urge to just drift off to sleep become overwhelming. “I loved… every moment with you…” Kate gasped as she found it harder to draw breath. “You… made me feel… happy to be alive… you made my life… beautiful…”
Galen shook his head morosely, tears rolling down his cheeks now. “Kate… please don’t, I love you, I need you, I can’t live without you… don’t leave me…”
“I’m so cold,” mumbled Kate distantly, her eyelids drooping tiredly. Everything just felt so heavy, such an enormous struggle just to keep her eyes open, just to breathe. “Everything’s so dark…”
“Kate?” called Galen quietly as she closed her eyes with a sigh, “KATE? No! NO! Kate… please don’t leave me, Kate!”
“Oh Hecate!” moaned one of the mages as a small group entered the room led by the young girl from earlier. Several guards also rushed into the room, hauling the two miserable mages that had caused all the trouble to their feet and bustling them out into the corridor and no doubt to some holding cell where they could be dealt with later.
“Fuck your Hecates!” swore Galen bitterly. “Do something! DO something! I’m losing her…”
The witches didn’t need any urging, they had already begun to circle the couple, joining hands and chanting in mumbled voices.
“Come on Kate…” whispered Galen softly, gently stroking a bloody hand against her cheek. “Live… Live for me…”
Galen could feel his own hands growing warm as the witches used him as a conduit for their power. Beneath his touch he could feel Kate’s wound grow smaller and the flow of blood begin to lessen. In his mind he could almost see inside her body as living tissue began to repair itself and blood vessels begin to dilate. Finally he could feel a slight warmth return to her flesh and the beat of her heart grow stronger as the maw of death was abated.
He held his breath for many minutes, just waiting. Suddenly Kate drew a deep breath into her lungs and she began to cough violently, choking for those first few breaths as she slowly began to come round. The light and sounds that surrounded her cut into her consciousness like a thousand tiny knives splitting her head open. Kate moaned weakly as she opened her eyes fully, blinking against the brightness as Galen’s relieved face slowly began to come into focus.
“Hey there,” he said gently, gazing down into her eyes. He reached out his hand and tenderly brushed back her hair from her face, smoothing his fingers across her scalp while the palm of his hand stroked lovingly against her warm forehead.
The circle of witches quickly broke up as they moved in closer to examine Kate, their hands pressing against the site of the wound, seeing almost perceptively into her body.
“Some residual damage to the right lung…” mumbled a female as she carried out her analysis.
“Blood pressure is low…”
“Heart beat steady…”
Galen kept his eyes fixed on Kate’s as the group of healers carried out their examination and continued to heal his wife. He wrapped his bloody fingers tightly around her hand, squeezing her cold flesh beneath his own as though she might slip away if he let her go. “I love you,” he mouthed silently.
Kate smiled weakly, keeping all her focus on her husband. “I love you too,” she returned mutely, her eyes glistening with tears. She felt so weak and tired, like her soul had been dragged back and forth and wrung out at the same time. Her hold on Galen’s hand tightened some, using up the little strength she had left.
“You’re going to be okay, Kate,” smiled one of the witches as she hovered over Kate’s face. “We just need to get you someplace safe, okay? Don’t worry… everything is going to be fine.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Tuesday, May 22nd 2007
9:25 am
Watchers' Council mansion
Basement
Alessa checked herself quickly as she walked by an ornately framed mirror in the hall. She looked just right, she assessed, and gave her pace an extra submissive gait. She had been studying the comings and goings of the 'servants' in the house for a couple of days now, since Tash had told her about Daye's 'fall from grace' until she had spotted those who were in charge of the basement. True to her promise to the huntress she would assess the situation before deciding whether to take her to see Daye or not. *I didn’t promise to 'actually' take her,* Alessa said to herself; she still couldn’t trust Tash completely.
Delancre had been quite open with her, showing off his beautiful house and his well trained soldiers, but she had paid more attention to the places he hadn't shown than those they had actually visited. The basement was one of those, along with the labs, the archives and the barracks, although she thought the last one was more for jealousy reasons than confidentiality. Delancre was a possessive man, he had shown it once and again. Fortunately he was also a busy man, and mornings she usually spent alone while he took to his business, whatever that would be.
She descended the stairs with surety, but trying to be silent, which wasn’t difficult with the demoness' padded feet anyway. When she came to the base of the stairs she wasn’t surprised to find herself in a 'dungeons & dragons' setting, including the demonic guard. A big black Trenoil'ka was standing upright next to the stairs opening, his huge six clawed hand resting purposely on the hilt of his sword. He hadn't noticed her presence yet, which gave Alessa a couple of seconds to look dismayed as she studied the corridor.
The basement was just too large, and it opened to a labyrinth of halls dug into the rock under the house. The flickering lights illuminated the rough cut of floor and walls and cast moving shadows off the piles of debris, broken furniture, boxes and shattered glass. An intense stink assaulted her nostrils; the damp earth smell and the decay of refuse blended with traces of an assortment of beverages, old whiskey, soured wine… the place obviously had been used as contraband storing sometime in the past, probably during the prohibition.
Small cells lined the hall, like open mouths screaming soundlessly. Only one of them was closed, the thick wooden door enforced with iron bars for extra security. *Daye's cell.* She noticed the big set of keys that dangled from the demon's beefy midriff and smiled. Well, it was time to get to work.
She gripped the tray she carried firmly and walked the last steps slowly, as if hesitant. The demon was startled, she could tell, and he grunted as he raised the filthy rag that covered the jar of water and stale bread she carried. There was a pot of a nasty looking porridge too, but at least it was warm. From what she had heard, Delancre had been pretty mean with food and water on Daye so she hadn't wanted to bring much. The demon stuck a black finger into the porridge and moved it around, as if looking for something inside. *Sure, cutie, there's a crossbow hidden in there.* Alessa suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.
"My Lord Delancre sent me to give this to the witch," she said instead, keeping her eyes downcast and her demeanour submissive. She knew how servants acted around the house.
"That's too much," the demon growled, licking the porridge off his finger and reaching to take the pot, but Alessa quickly snatched it out of his reach.
"It's not our place to question my Lord's commands," she said quickly, trying to inflect her voice with awed fear. "Please, open the witch's cell."
The Trenoil'ka just puffed and started to walk towards the barred cell, and Alessa's knees almost buckled in relief before she could follow him.
The vision that greeted her eyes was worse than she expected, and she had to make an effort not to rush to Daye's side. She turned around and gave the demon a look. "I also have to help her clean a bit, leave please."
"I won't see nothing I haven’t before.I'll stay," he stated, a lusty glint in his eye that turned Alessa's stomach.
"I assume my Lord is aware of that, then?" she asked, finally raising her eyes and looking directly at the demon. Delancre was probably well aware of everything happening in the mansion, but she hoped the mention of his name would be enough to intimidate the Trenoil'ka. Fortunately she was right, because the demon reluctantly retreated and closed the door behind himself.
The moment the door shut Alessa turned to look at the cell again and quickly changed her features. She didn’t want Daye recognizing the demoness and later talking about her - the poor thing wouldn’t be punished for this. But she didn’t want Daye recognizing her as Alessa either. That'd be too much risk, and she wasn’t ready to take it. Not even for Daye.
The small room was poorly lit, and its only furniture was dirty old bed and a luxurious arm chair in one corner, so obviously out of place that could only be Delancre's spot. The walls and floor were damp and dirty. Daye herself was lying on the bed, chained to the wall with thick iron chains that led to manacles on her wrists and ankles... Alessa's guess was that she could probably sit up and stand but not move further than the small chamber pot in one corner.
*Oh, Daye!* she said to herself as she rushed to her side. The woman's back was facing her and she seemed asleep, so she rested her tray on the filthy floor and touched Daye's shoulder gently, shaking her. "Witch, come on witch. I've food and water here!" she said instead.
Daye came to groggily, aware that someone was gently shaking her awake. She was filled with dread that Delancre had devised yet another subtle means to torture her, but she was too proud to try and pretend to be unable to wake. Daye rolled to her back, stifling the urge to cry out as the heavy iron bracelets rubbed against her raw flesh. She blinked slowly and brought into focus the unfamiliar demoness standing over her.
It was more than unusual for one of the demon servants, who came in routinely to clean the chamber pot or to leave her a pittance of food and water, to have any interaction with her. Mostly they would work efficiently without speaking, their heads down. Daye had given up on trying to get any of them to respond to her. Aside from her terrible thirst, it was the lack of any sort of contact with a living being that ate away at Daye’s strength of spirit. She felt utterly abandoned, and even if she knew it was no better than she deserved, it still stung to think that she would probably die alone in this place, without even a trace of human kindness.
“Water?” Daye asked, her voice a mere croak. Finally what the demoness had been saying registered in her slightly addled brain.
Alessa smiled, relieved to see that Daye was actually responding. "Yes, water. Here," she added and helped the woman to incorporate and then raised the water jar to her lips. "Easy, easy," she warned as Daye gulped the water down. "Take it easy or you'll throw up, you don’t want to waste it, do you?"
Alessa chewed on her lower lip as she studied Daye while she drank, more slowly this time. She was wearing the remnants of a dress or maybe a nightgown, completely tattered and filthy. She was filthy too, streaked with dirt and blood, and she smelled. Alessa winced in sympathy. Daye's mouth was cracked and dried blood showed in it, her beautiful red hair dark and matted... it contrasted painfully to the paleness of her skin. *Deathly pale,* she thought, *and so thin…*
Before she could stop herself she fleetingly touched Daye's hair, her hand trembling at the contact, and Daye's eyes were on her again, bright and alert. *You are still there, dear. That's a relief,* she said to herself as she retreated her hand from the witch's hair.
Daye felt more awake as the cool water slipped past her lips and coursed down her scratchy throat, soothing the burn there. Her swollen tongue felt raw but the water was a relief there too. As she drank, Daye noticed the demoness touching her hair gently. She wondered about that. No other servant of Delancre’s had ever been in the least bit concerned with her. They all acted as if Daye was nothing more than another piece of furniture in this dirty desolate place. What made this woman different?
Whatever reasons the demoness had for her kind consideration, Daye was more than grateful for it. She sometimes felt that she might actually break, despite the bravado she continued to display for Delancre. It had become so very difficult that at times Daye prayed to the Goddess for the respite death would offer her. If her ravaged body would simply give up the fight and she “accidentally” died, at least her torment would be at an end.
Not only were her physical, waking moments filled with pain and degradation, but now her dreams were haunted as well. Sometimes they were simply memories. She’d dream of Galen and Kate, of Drew and Maia, or even of Tash. More and more often, she replayed the terrible scene between herself and Marcus the last time she’d seen him. The necromancer had been a true friend, and he’d only wanted to protect her. Letting her anger at herself and her dismay with Delancre’s role in her troubles affect her judgement, Daye had left Marcus with the wrong impression. She’d been too absorbed in her own pain to see the pain she was causing him, and it was bitter consolation to admit to herself that he had been right.
When Daye wasn’t dreaming of the recent or distant past, as she sometimes dreamt about Ryan as well, she was having more and more troubling dreams about the Paladin, the Black Knight, and the Sorcerer. She recognized each as a symbol of the men who had been so important in her life of late, but she couldn’t begin to grasp what the dreams might actually mean. They were never the same. In one she might end up leaving with the Sorcerer, while in another she would settle into a safe, but dull life with the Paladin. She could never tell how one would go, but they all left her confused and filled with dread.
Daye pulled herself out of her musings. She focused on the demoness who watched her, but tried to pretend she wasn’t.
“Thank you,” Daye said softly, passing the nearly empty jug back to the demoness. “Did you say there was food as well?” Daye asked, studying the woman closely.
Alessa smiled. "Yes, here. Some bread and porridge." She raised the tray and placed it on the woman's skinny legs, then she rummaged in her servant clothes and took out a couple of chocolate bars from her underwear. They were half melted by her body heat, and she modelled them with her fingers before unwrapping the bars and giving them to Daye. "I'm sorry they are warm, but they probably taste as heaven anyway."
She knew she wasn't behaving like the normal servant, but her resolve to be cold and distant with her friend had melted away like those chocolate bars. At least she'd be gentle with her as much as she could. Daye could never imagine it was her, anyway. She had no idea of her being with Delancre or her staying in the mansion, and she didn't even know about her improved abilities. She guessed that, unless she showed her true form, Daye would never suspect it was her.
Daye accepted the food. The porridge was slightly burnt and bland, but it was warm and filling. The bread was a bit stale, but it helped to ease the gnawing hunger within her belly. But the chocolate, oh the wonder of it. Daye savoured the bittersweet luxury, feeling somehow renewed.
“There’s magic in chocolate,” Daye said when she’d finished, smiling slightly. “I’ve always said so. Thank you so much,” Daye continued, unable to stop the grateful tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t know who you are, or why you’ve done this, but thank you so much.”
"Shh, don’t cry. You have to be strong," Alessa said, as she sat next to the woman and patted her shoulder. "I have to go now." She rose quickly, afraid she'd start crying too if she stayed longer. She collected the bowl and jar and placed them on the tray again, and at the last moment she looked down at Daye again. "I'm nobody, I want you to forget about me."
She walked to the door and hesitated for a second and turned around. "But I won't forget about you, I'll find the way to tell your friends you are here." With a last smile, she rapped on the door and waited for the demon to open it.
Daye watched the demoness leave, feeling stronger for her kindness. She considered the woman's parting words though. Daye could have told the demoness that she need not fear being found out by Delancre. Daye could easily keep this secret along with the others.
Daye also appreciated the offer of hope the demoness had made, but she wasn't about to reach for it. What the other woman didn't know was that Daye's friends probably already knew where she was and what was likely happening to her. They weren't about to come rescue her and she didn't resent that. Delancre was strong and dangerous, and Daye had not proven herself worthy of the risk. Still, she couldn't stop the desperate tears that fell freely from her eyes when she was once again alone. At the very least, the mysterious demoness had offered her a memory of humanity even in this place, and she could hold onto that for strength as the darkness closed in.
Safe House
***Tuesday, 22nd May 2007 - 3:30am, UK Time – The Coven of Sindell, Warwick, England***
(Monday, 21st May 2007 - 7:30pm, Los Angeles Time)
Michael Dallinger stood steadfastly in the centre of the room, silently observing the scene as several doctors fussed around Kate, making her comfortable in her new surroundings. He’d been awoken sharply by his personal aide just an hour ago and rushed to the site of the incident, being filled in on all the pertinent details on the way. He’d already arranged for Kate and her husband to be quickly transferred to a more secure area of the castle, a room virtually impenetrable, surrounded on all sides by the River Avon. The windows had been locked shut with irreversible magics a long time ago, and the only other mode of entry was the front door which he was determined to keep guarded at all times.
The two mages, Charles Hammond and his co-conspirator Leon Lawrence, both respected members of the coven, had been arrested and taken into custody to await interrogation by the ‘Psy-corps’. Michael was anxious to find out if this attack had indeed been engineered by the First Elder Delancre as Mr Eldridge had attested, but such a task could wait until morning. Right now Michael’s priority was to make sure that Catherine was safe in case another attempt on her life was made.
“I want three guards posted outside the door at all times, all times, you understand me?” he said sternly as he instructed several men and women from the Warrior’s Circle. “That means no breaks or leaving your post until you are officially relieved of duty. No one but myself and Mr Eldridge is to enter this room without my express authorisation, clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” replied the warriors in perfect unison, saluting to attention before filing out of the room to take their positions.
“Is there anything else I can do, Sir?” asked a stout looking young women, stepping forwards as the warriors left the room.
Michael nodded, taking hold of the woman by the arm as he walked her to the door. “Actually there is, Lillian. I want you to see to it that all of Mr and Ms. Eldridge’s belongings are brought to this room, including anything that might have been damaged during the break-in. Get whomever you can to help but don’t let anything out of your sight, and I want a complete inventory of everything that is moved okay?”
“I won’t let you down, Sir,” said Lillian proficiently, as Michael showed her out of the room.
Galen watched Michael Dallinger as he led a young woman out of the door and paused to confer with a couple of men who were waiting in the outer corridor. Galen had to give the man credit; Dallinger certainly had impeccable organisational skills. Within minutes of his arriving on the scene he’d whipped everyone into shape, delegating responsibilities and prioritising everything that needed to be taken care of. He was obviously a very competent leader and well deserving of his lofty position of Coven Elder, despite his young age.
“There…” said Dr Lennon with a sunny smile as she slid an intravenous drip into the back of Kate’s hand, checking that the fluids were running through at the correct level. “That should make you feel a bit more comfortable, just give it a few minutes for those pain killers to kick in, okay?”
Kate nodded weakly, offering the woman a faint smile. Jillian had been like a godsend, quietly observing the healing crew as they completed their spells, and then intervening at the last minute to take care of any residual ills like shock and hypertension.
“And make sure you get some rest, you hear me?” added Jillian as she picked up a syringe full of some strange purple almost black looking liquid and fed it into the IV. “This will help you feel better come the morning; just some concentrated vitamins, it’ll help bolster your immune system. You lost a lot of blood tonight… you’re lucky to be alive…”
“I know,” agreed Kate, turning her head to look at her husband, “I’m very lucky.”
Galen smiled, returning his attention to his wife as he took hold of Kate’s free hand, squeezing it gently.
“You should let me take a look at you too, Mr Eldridge,” said Jillian as she traversed the bedside to where Galen stood. She pulled up a chair and made him sit down, taking a small torch out of her top pocket and shining it into his eyes. “You took a few nasty hits by all accounts. Did you receive any treatment while the healing crew were here?”
“Um, a little,” admitted Galen, allowing the woman to conduct her brisk examination although he couldn’t care less about his own health right now. “I had a broken rib, fractured jaw… I think they did a good job. I mean, I’m not in any pain.”
“Good, good,” mumbled Dr Lennon, only half listening as she completed her checks. “Hmmm, you seem fine enough, these wounds look like they’re continuing to heal well, but if you find yourself in any additional pain…” Jillian fumbled around in her doctor’s bag, pulling out a small jar. “Take two with water, no more than six in twenty-four hours mind.”
“Thanks, Dr Lennon,” said Galen, taking the pills and dropping them into his pocket, “but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Jillian nodded and turned back to Kate. “You feeling okay?” At Kate’s affirmation, Jillian smiled, closing her bag with an air of finality. “Good, then I’ll leave you both to get some sleep. I’ll drop by in the morning, see how you’re doing. In the mean time…”
“-I know, I know,” said Kate dryly, “get some rest. I will.”
Galen sank back down into his chair by Kate’s bedside as the doctor departed, stopping to consult with Dallinger before she left. Galen’s eyes searched his wife’s face, lingering on her pale complexion and the slightly reddened line that circled her throat.
Kate sighed, returning Galen’s gaze, “I’m fine,” she said reassuringly, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly. “I really am.”
“Well that’s certainly good to hear.”
Kate and Galen both looked up to see Michael standing at the foot of the bed, his hands clasped together in front of him. It was strange that even at such an ungodly hour he looked tastefully dressed in slacks and a freshly laundered shirt; his thick, dark hair swept back in a slightly unkempt manner.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he apologised, sitting down on the end of the bed. “But I was just about to leave. I thought I’d let you know we arrested Hammond and Lawrence, they’re both being securely held for now… and I’ve taken the liberty of having several guards on rotation outside your room tonight. Tomorrow the other Elders and I will meet to discuss things further but for now, well, the both of you are safe.”
“Thank you, Michael,” said Kate quietly.
“Yeah, thanks,” added Galen with a nod of his head, “I don’t know what we would have done without your help, you and the others.”
Michael nodded and rose to his feet. “This might sound out of place but I think something good can still come out of all this. If Ambrose Delancre is behind this then we’ll find out, at any cost. Whatever Hammond and Lawrence know will be revealed soon, and if it leads back to the First Elder… well this could be just the kind of evidence we need to take to the Council. Delancre may have just made a fatal error, and one that I intend to exploit to the fullest.”
Kate and Galen both watched as Michael turned and left the room, taking the last of his aides with him. The room that had only a few minutes ago been a bustling epicentre of activity seemed lost in a vacuum of silence.
“He’s right you know,” said Galen with a sigh as he leaned over on the bed and gently stroked Kate’s forehead, brushing his fingertips through her hair at the same time. “Delancre has made a mistake, we’ve got him now…” Galen leaned low and lay a kiss on Kate’s forehead. “You should sleep,” he said after a moment, “you look tired.”
“You’re not sleeping with me?” asked Kate with a slight smile. “You know I went to great efforts to seduce you tonight…”
Galen chuckled, squeezing Kate’s hand tighter. “So I noticed, and it worked… believe me,” Galen sighed, combing his fingers through Kate’s hair again and gently caressing her cheek. “This certainly isn’t how I wanted the evening to end…” Galen slumped back in his chair, removing his pistol from the waistband of his pants and laying it on the nightstand. His fingers combed over the barrel as he stared at the doorway. “I don’t think I could sleep tonight anyway… I’m just gonna stay here and keep watch.”
Kate smiled softly. She wanted to protest; Galen had been hurt too and needed rest just as much as she did right now. But she was beginning to feel so tired, her eyelids felt so heavy that she could hardly keep them open as the painkillers began to take effect. “You’re always there to protect me…” she mumbled quietly, closing her eyes drowsily.
“Yes I am,” whispered Galen quietly, leaning in one final time to pull the bedsheets more snugly about Kate’s shoulders, as she began to fall asleep. “And I always will be.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Tuesday, May 22nd 2007
9:30am.
Watchers’ Council Mansion, LA.
Delancre’s Office.
“Now, Kyle,” Moore was saying. “Tell his Lordship exactly what you told me.”
Kyle took a deep breath. This was going to be interesting. Delancre sat before him with barely restrained patience. “Well, umm… it’s like this, y’see. I was walking round Lone Peak looking for Morris, and all this weird shit started happening. I mean, voices, faces… all sorts of crap really. I tell you, I was really freaked out-”
Delancre waved his hand and cut him off. “Mr. Ashton, my time is growing increasingly rare. I have a lot of business to attend to. Tell me what I want to know: was Morris there?”
“No. Hasn’t been there for a few months.”
The First Elder waited for Kyle to go on, but it became clear he wasn’t going to say anything more. “Well, where is he now?” he prompted.
Frowning, Kyle pursed his lips and thought back to what the insane vampire had said. “He’s gone to look for… some sort of artefact, maybe. The Eye of St. Virgin.”
Both of Delancre’s eyebrows raised and he looked incredulously at Kyle. “‘The Eye of St. Virgin’,” he repeated, slowly.
Standing just behind Kyle and to his left, Moore coughed. “Ahem, I believe Mr. Ashton is referring to the Eye of St. Vigeous, my Lord.”
*Ahhh…* Delancre leaned back in his chair, lost in thought. *So, Morris Giles is after the Eye of St. Vigeous. This is an interesting development.* And one he would have to keep his eyes on. Morris was closely linked to the, ah, former Brotherhood. He very much doubted that even the two remaining vampire elders would have any idea where the Eye may be.
But he could not let that concern him now. At present, he had to keep his attention on LA, on the one thing that stood, or rather lay in his way down in his cells. For now, it was good enough that Morris was out of his hair.
“Thank you very much, Mr. Ashton.” Delancre said, breaking the silence and addressing Kyle, who had waited patiently during his musings. “Your assistance has been very useful. Now, I believe Miss Graziani had assigned you to punishment duty…”
Kyle’s jaw dropped. He had so not gone through all that crap at Lone Peak only to wind up back cleaning the latrines. “Hey, you said I’m off that!”
“‘Suspended indefinitely’ were my words exactly, Mr. Ashton. Good day.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Tuesday, 22nd May 2007 – 2pm
The Mexico/Arizona Border
Pelor stared at the fortifications around the Mexican border and his heart quailed. An enormous metal fence rose into the air, dotted with infrared cameras and spotlight mountings. He’d been told there were sensors buried under the ground as well. Some had said to him that his blue eyes would help him to cross – the border guards only stopped those with dark skin and brown eyes – but Pelor knew that the people he’d spoken to couldn’t see the blue fur beneath the hooded cloak he wore. He couldn’t chance the border guards demanding that he throw back the hood.
Quite apart from the issue of imagining the United States capable of admitting blue-furred demons, if his appearance at the beginning of his journey had been appalling, now it was abominable. After weeks of travelling on foot and in vehicles of questionable cleanliness, he was somewhat malodorous. No, he couldn’t just walk through the gates and expect to be let into the country. He would have to do as hundreds thousands of Mexicans had done before him and attempt to cross illegally.
And he would have to do it alone. Many of those he’d spoken to said that each year it became harder and harder to cross alone, that a ‘coyote’, a local guide, was the best way to ensure success. Smuggling operations were available for those who could pay the thousands of dollars demanded, but Pelor didn’t even have the few hundred the ‘coyotes’ were asking. Instead, he would have to work out a way to cross by himself.
But first, he needed rest. And food. He sighed. A bath would be nice, but it had been two weeks since he’d last had a chance to do more than splash his face. Turning to the back alleys of this tiny shanty town, he began to search for discarded food scraps, an activity that was becoming all too familiar to him.
Night would fall soon. Then he would try to scale that fence. He had to try; Alessa needed him.
Byron Has A Plan
***Tuesday, 22nd May 2007 - 10:14am, UK Time – The Coven of Sindell, Warwick, England*** (2:14am, Los Angeles Time)
Galen smiled contentedly as he watched Kate sleep. He’d kept his vigil by her side all night, though he’d known there wasn’t really a need. Dallinger’s warriors were just outside the door and were some of the best fighters Sindell had to offer. But he’d done it nevertheless, perhaps more for his own peace of mind than necessity. He reached out and carefully pulled the blankets more warmly around his wife, trying not to disturb her too much. She’d been restless most of the night and had finally begun to sleep properly just a few hours ago.
Rising to his feet, Galen walked around the room a little, looking at stacks of his and Kate’s belongings as they rested on the floor waiting to be unpacked again. A small group of witches had dropped by early that morning with their belongings, all catalogued and accounted for. He really couldn’t fault Sindell for their efficiency.
Feeling at something of a loose end, he finally decided to venture out and see if he couldn’t rustle up something special for breakfast when Kate eventually awoke.
Smiling to himself at the idea, Galen quietly opened the door and stepped out into the corridor, nodding at the trio of guards as he headed off towards where he knew the kitchens were. He’d not walked more than a few yards when he felt a hand plant itself on his shoulder. Galen stopped in his tracks, turning to confront the tall, well-built man, his facial features downcast and hesitant while his cool blue eyes held a slightly contrite expression.
“Good morning… Galen, right?” said Byron with a false injection of boldness, stepping out into the corridor and blocking Galen’s path. “I was hoping I’d get the chance to catch up with you.”
“Not now… Byron, was it?” mumbled Galen darkly, stepping past the man and continuing on his way.
“Wait up now,” said Byron as he hurried after him. “Look, I know I was out of order last night… okay, all right, I was way out of line, blame it on the brandy… Galen, please… wait.”
Galen stopped, turned back and narrowed his eyes at Byron. He didn’t like him one bit, he was little more than an arrogant, self-serving, pretentious, bourgeoisie braggart – and that was just a first impression, Galen was positively convinced there was a whole side to Byron’s despicable character he’d not yet had the displeasure of experiencing. “What do you want?”
“I…” Byron held his hands up in surrender, “I just wanted to know if Catherine was all right. I heard what happened last night and… well you know, like I said, I was out of order last night and when I heard what happened, that she nearly… well, I wanted to try to make amends… smooth the way clear as it were… Kate and I have been friends for many years-”
“I find that very hard to believe,” said Galen archly, carrying along on his way.
“But we were,” protested Byron, jogging to catch up with the man’s swift pace. “We used to be very close. In fact-”
“Yes, I heard,” said Galen sharply, stopping abruptly and turning on the man again. “Look, Byron, I know you and Kate used to- well, it’s none of my business, except that she’s my wife now and I don’t want her upset again, she’s been through too much…”
“Of course not,” agreed Byron. “That’s absolutely the last thing I want either and… just a moment…” Byron couldn’t help but smile a little, the corners of his mouth turning up at the ends ever so slightly at the prospect. “You said Kate was upset? I hope that wasn’t anything to do with our little altercation last night?”
Galen shook his head in amazement. “You only wish you had such an effect on her any more,” he scoffed. “I said Kate was upset; you might not have heard but she nearly died last night.” Galen struggled to keep hold of his annoyance. Byron’s arrogance really knew no bounds. “Look,” he said firmly, “Kate doesn’t care anything about you so just leave her alone, in fact you’ll leave us both alone if you know what’s good for you…”
“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way,” said Byron thoughtfully, his eyes focusing on a stray hair that had fallen onto Galen’s t-shirt. He reached out and picked it off, dusting down the man’s shoulders at the same time. “You Americans certainly don’t care much about how you dress, do you?”
“Was there anything else, Byron?” asked Galen irritably, batting the man to one side. In normal circumstances he would never have tolerated this buffoon’s vainglorious behaviour, but these were far from normal circumstances and Galen couldn’t afford to be ruled by impulse. It was a sad fact that in order to preserve amicable relations he would have to show clemency to a man like Byron Spencer.
“No… nothing else,” said Byron with a sigh, “but if you could pass on my best wishes to Catherine? I would be so grateful…”
“Yeah,” mumbled Galen as he carried on his way, “I’ll be sure to do that.”
Byron watched the man leave before a wide smile spread across his face. He looked down at his clenched fist and opened it out to reveal the tiny hair he had removed from Galen’s t-shirt. He held it up between his thumb and forefinger, his smile broadening. “Actually, don’t bother my dear Mr Eldridge,” he said to himself quietly. “I think I just had a better idea…”
***A Few Minutes Later***
Byron looked in the mirror and smiled, smoothing his broad hands through his light brown hair and composing his features into various different arrangements, a frown, a smile, a laugh, a scowl… “Perfect,” he said to himself as he admired his handiwork. It was one of the best glamours he’d ever performed, flawless in its formation, even the voice was good match.
“Hello, I’m Galen Eldridge,” he said carefully, smiling keenly. “I’m Galen Eldridge, I’m a complete ass and have an over-inflated sense of my own superiority, I married a woman almost half my age, I’m a tough American cop with a big… gun.” Byron laughed, watching Galen’s features scrunch up in the mirror, looking back at him.
“Not bad though,” he mused, turning his chiselled jaw first one way then the other and running a hand down the hard muscular planes of his chest and lower torso. “My, Mr Eldridge, you must work out quite a bit, though I guess you need to, to be able to keep up with that wife of yours… Hmmmm,” smirked Byron boldly, “and talking of Catherine… I think it’s time the two of us became reacquainted.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, 23rd May 2007 – 2:30am
The Mexico/Arizona Border
Bright lights swivelled towards him, and Pelor scurried from the actinic glare, his heart pounding in his ears. He didn’t dare be caught – he could only imagine what the Border Patrol would make of his appearance. Demons crossing borders usually had their own kind to call on for help, to arrange safe passage through the ever-tightening security nets the humans cast around themselves.
The light passed by and Pelor began to breathe easier – but he was still in Mexico. He’d been trying ever since night had fallen to climb the fence, but no matter where he made the attempt lights and patrol cars soon followed. There were simply too many sensors too close together for him to manage the task.
He turned his head to look along the length of the twelve-foot-high metal barricade that separated him from his goal. Maybe a couple of hundred miles further down he’d have better luck; away from any towns or cities. He sighed. It would add many more days to his travels, especially since he would have to walk the entire way. Time, he felt, was becoming a highly precious commodity, and one he couldn’t afford to waste any more.
Hot tears splashed down his face and onto his knees as he sat huddled in the lee of a rough building. He began to rock back and forth, despair overwhelming him as he tried – and failed – to think of a way out of this. Thoughts of Alessa filled his mind, and of the words she’d spoken to him as she prepared to flee Isla Nublada.
“Oh, you fool!” he berated himself loudly.
“Ellis Longwood, Pelor. Remember, from Longwood Inc. in London.”
Alessa’s words raced through his brain and he scrambled to his feet, moving away from the border and deeper into the town. Telephones were somewhat scarce, but he managed to find a public phone that was working. England lay to his east, he knew, so it should already be the morning of a working day there. He gave the operator his name and the number that Alessa had made him memorise, then prayed that Longwood Inc. in London would accept a collect call from Mexico.
After what seemed an interminable wait, Pelor was rewarded with a cultured female voice. “Longwood Inc., Mr Ellis Longwood’s office, Patricia Meyers speaking. How may I help you?”
The greeting sounded entirely rote, and Pelor hesitated for a moment. He remembered having spoken to Mr Longwood’s secretary the last time he’d rung – when he had passed on the information to the man that Alessa had escaped, and her whereabouts. He had been so panic-stricken that time that he wasn’t sure if this was the same woman or not.
“Um, it’s Pelor here. I rang about Alessa a few months ago. Alessa Hunt? Please, I need to speak with Ellis Longwood urgently.”
For a moment or two there was nothing but static on the line, then Patricia’s voice came through once more. “Pelor… yes, I have the name on file. There’s a note… hmm, I see. Well, Mr Longwood is not currently in his London office…” Pelor sagged in defeat on his end of the line, “…but is in fact in Los Angeles.”
Pelor perked up again. “Can you put me through to them?”
“I’m afraid it’s the middle of the night there, sir, but I can give you the number to contact Mr Longwood’s office directly. Their offices will be opening in six hours.”
Without anything to use to write down a number, Pelor asked the woman to repeat it several times until he was sure he had it memorised.
“Thank you, thank you,” he gushed.
“You’re quite welcome, sir.”
Pelor hung up the phone and breathed a long sigh of relief. *Hang on, Alessa. I’m coming.*
Ryan finally gets to know Maia
*** Wednesday, May 23, 2007, 7:34 pm ***
*** Kate’s house ***
Nightwalker stood at the kitchen door, facing twilight on the lushly beautiful garden behind Kate’s house. Everywhere he looked, green growing things reminded him that the world was awakening to the wonder of spring. Inside, Nightwalker longed to be able to feel that the changing weather was a hopeful sign. Maybe they were about to change things as well. Very soon, Kate would be home from England and they would be able to put the plans he and Nikolai had come up with into action. He could hardly stand to wait.
Nighwalker desperately wanted to rush off and rescue Daye from Delancre, before it was too late. He hated to think of her in that place, being tortured and perhaps thinking she had been abandoned. He was not the only one tormented by these thoughts, though. Nightwalker knew that every day Drew grew more and more anxious. The other man tried to put on a brave front for Maia and Sam. He tried to pretend that everything was all right, but Nightwalker had seen his true feelings when the others looked away. He had seen Drew’s bleak, growing desperation.
At least Drew had Maia and Sam to distract him, though. As long as the other man was focused on them, on whatever they needed from him, then Drew could push aside his fears for a while. Nightwalker had no such outlet. There was nothing for him to do but wait and worry.
Drew also had Maia and Sam to lean on. Daye’s brother helped to shoulder so much of the burden. Sam was quiet, but he was strong and dependable. And Maia, she was a light in this troubling darkness. Nightwalker watched Drew with her and envy clawed at him. He longed to be a part of his daughter’s life, but he knew he had no right to stake a claim on her or her affection. Still, he couldn’t help the longing that nagged at him.
“Hullo?”
Nightwalker glanced down when he felt the gentle tug on his pant leg. He saw the object of his longing standing beside him, looking up with a curious expression.
Nightwalker stooped down. “Hello, Maia,” he said softly. “Can I help you with something?”
Maia had never come this close to him before. Nightwalker glanced back into the dimly lit kitchen, but there was no one else around. He’d never been alone with the child before either.
“Wanna cookie,” Maia replied, pointing to the jar on the counter and smiling toothily.
“I see,” Nightwalker replied. “Are you allowed to have a cookie?”
Maia nodded. “S’ok. Da said.”
“All right then,” Nightwalker said. He stood and went to the cookie jar, extracting a store bought treat from inside. When he turned back around, Maia had clambered up into a chair at the table and was waiting impatiently.
Nightwalker brought the child a cookie and then sat down across from her to watch her. He knew that he should have left her alone, that he had no business here with the little girl, but he couldn’t waste this opportunity. Maia was so adorable. She was a chubby little angel with thick black curls and bright green eyes. She was physically an obvious mixture of both him and her mother.
Looking at Maia, Nightwalker saw all the possibilities, all that he might have had if Delancre had never interfered. He felt angry, but more than that he felt sad. The life he’d been robbed of sat a few feet away and Nightwalker realized that it was gone for him forever.
“Me Maia,” Maia said proudly, nibbling away at her cookie. “You?”
“Oh, I’m…” Nightwalker paused. How could he answer that question? Could he tell her he was ‘The Nightwalker’? That name represented a monster. The very monster that had caused Daye so much pain. The monster that had used Maia without a thought to her at all. He didn’t want to, couldn’t bear to be ‘The Nightwalker’ with this darling girl.
“I’m… Ryan… I’m a… friend of your mommy’s,” he said, feeling as if life sparked anew within him.
Maia’s eyes widened in shock. She dropped the cookie on the table and clambered over to Ryan, climbing up into his lap. “You know Mommy?”
“Sure, I’ve been your mom’s friend for a long time,” Ryan replied, surprised by the little girl’s behavior and amazed to be holding her.
The little girl nodded solemnly. She brought her hands up to the sides of Ryan’s face. Maia stared intently at him for a few minutes. Then a bright smile lit her face. “Mommy’s pretty friend,” she said, patting his cheeks soothingly.
Ryan blinked away a rush of emotion. He was so shocked at Maia’s guileless assessment. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re very pretty yourself.”
Maia smiled brightly at the compliment. “Mommy say Maia pretty,” she agreed. “Mommy pretty too.”
Ryan nodded. Indeed, Amanda was very pretty. She was to him one of the most beautiful things in this world. Holding Maia in his arms, Ryan wished for so many things he could never have. In a just world, he would have been a real father to this girl and he would have Daye’s heart for his very own.
“There you are,” Drew’s voice was gently scolding. “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me to get you a cookie?”
Maia giggled. “Dada, this Ryan,” she said. “He got cookies.”
Drew smiled at the girl and then turned his attention to the demon holding her. His smile faltered as he considered what he was seeing. Ryan was Maia’s true father. Drew very rarely thought of that. He had felt like Maia was his from day one.
“Uh… sorry about this,” Drew finally said, coming over to scoop Maia up into his arms. “I was working in Kate’s library. I’ve found a couple of other possible sources on mana. I guess she slipped out without me noticing.”
Drew winced. “Not that I don’t pay attention to her or anything,” he stammered. “She can just be real… quiet sometimes. And she’s usually pretty determined when it comes to cookies.”
Ryan shrugged. “She was no problem, Drew.”
The demon stood and strode over to Drew. He reached out and gently rubbed Maia’s hair for just a moment. Then he stepped back. He pulled his barriers back into place. “She’s a beautiful child. You’re very lucky. You have a lovely daughter.”
Drew didn’t miss Ryan’s meaning. He nodded, feeling strangely sorry for the demon. Ryan stared at Maia for a minute longer and then turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen. Drew cuddled his little girl close and thought, most clearly, that he was indeed very lucky.
Byron Fools Kate
***Tuesday, 22nd May 2007 - 10:45am, UK Time – The Coven of Sindell, Warwick, England*** (2:45am, Los Angeles Time)
Byron chuckled quietly to himself as he slipped into the room and closed the door behind himself. The guards had been completely fooled by his glamour, as he knew they would. The Warrior’s Circle were very adept at combat magic but other things like metamorphosis and transformation spells were quite out of their sphere of understanding. Of course, Byron had considered other ways of penetrating Catherine’s boudoir but there was no way of knowing how many magical wards and protection spells surrounded the room. He couldn’t risk tripping one of the alarms and besides… Byron smiled as he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror hanging above the walled up fireplace. Kate had humiliated him twice last night, this would be the perfect way of evening the score.
Byron glided across the room to the bedside, breathing a soft sigh of relief as he saw Kate’s sleeping form huddled up in a mass of heavy satin sheets. He was glad that she was okay, that her injuries from the previous night had been taken care of. Rumours of the two assassins and Kate’s close brush with death had spread throughout the coven like wildfire and although Byron had made enquires with several people as to her health, and received positive answers, he’d been unable to quell the deep desire he felt to see her for himself.
He hovered over her a little, his eyes raking over her slightly weary but otherwise still beautiful features. Byron frowned a little as he continued to observe his former lover, pulling the chair closer to the side of the bed and sitting down. Kate’s fine features looked so peaceful and serene that he couldn’t help but smile a little, his eyes drawn to the slight curl of her brooding lips and the delicate tremor of her dark lashes as she dreamed inconceivable whimsies.
Byron sighed a little, biting his own lip thoughtfully. It had been over six years since he had last lain with this woman - and she was a woman now, not a young girl anymore. It felt indescribably strange to sit and watch her, to recall a past that seemed as distant and unreal as any dream. She had changed in so many small ways that Byron could hardly take it all in. She had the demeanour of someone who had experienced too much life; a sort of unspoken solemnity that had been etched into all her expressions, obliterating the frivolous impatience of her teenage years. Leaning in a little closer, Byron could perceive the most diminutive beginnings of worry lines beneath her eyes too, barely visible except to one who might have studied her face almost obsessively in her youth.
Byron reached out a hand and gently stroked the edge of his index finger against the smooth, cool flesh of her forearm. He repeated this action for a few minutes, seemingly lost in the strange pleasure he extricated from touching Kate while she slept. After a moment he raised his hand to her face and trailed his fingertips against the curve of her cheek, carefully brushing a rogue lock of red hair back from her eyes.
Kate mumbled quietly, shifting comfortably in the bed as she roused herself from her sleep and slowly opened her eyes. Byron felt his heart race inside his chest and he held his breath for a moment, his hand poised above Kate’s cheek as he wondered what her reaction might be if she saw straight through his spell.
Kate smiled as she saw her husband sitting by her side, stifling a tired yawn behind her hand while stretching her legs beneath the sheets. “Hey you,” she said sleepily.
From behind his glamour, Byron smiled softly in relief, letting his fingers reach out to brush another stray ringlet of scarlet hair from Kate’s face. “Hey yourself,” he said gently, trying to keep his voice as calm and relaxed as possible, “how are you feeling…” Byron paused a moment, trying to think of an appropriate term of endearment that the American might use, “…darling?”
“I feel okay,” admitted Kate with a weary nod of her head, her wide eyes shining with devotion for the man that sat by her side. “Thanks to you… you saved my life last night.” Kate reached out her hand towards her husband and wrapped her fingers tightly around his. “Not that it’s the first time of course.”
“Of course,” mumbled Byron uncomfortably, looking down at Kate’s thin, delicate fingers as they interlaced around his own, her thumb stroking against his skin and squeezing ever so slightly. Byron tightened his hand around hers more firmly before returning his gaze to Kate’s. “This is becoming something of a… habit?”
“I’ll say,” laughed Kate quietly, her eyes exuding an air of warm affection for her husband as she rubbed her cheek comfortably against her pillow.
“I was thinking…” said Kate after a moment, smoothing her free hand across the empty expanse of bed that lay next to her. “Seeing as you’re so intent on keeping me bed-bound… why don’t you get in here with me? It’s nice and warm…” she said with an inviting smile, “I thought we could… you know? Snuggle…”
“…All right,” grinned Byron as he pulled off his shoes and removed his sweater. He quickly drew back the bedsheets, his facial features flickering in a mixture of appreciation and satisfaction as he saw Kate’s luscious body laid out for him, covered in nothing more than a thin scrap of silk and lace. Byron smiled again as he climbed into the bed with Kate and pulled the sheets back over them both.
“This is nice, isn’t it?” said Kate with a sigh as they settled down together. She gazed lovingly into Galen’s dark brown eyes, reaching out a hand to brush his hair back from his face. “Just the two of us… I know we haven’t had the opportunity to spend much time together lately…”
Byron nodded in agreement, trying to maintain his cool façade even though inside he felt passions already beginning to stir as Kate ran her hands across his chest, holding on to him securely like he was her anchor to the real world. “Well…” he began thoughtfully, “I always maintain that we make our own opportunities…”
“I know,” said Kate, a slight flicker of amusement passing over her face at Galen’s irregular wording. “You’re right,” she agreed with a weary sigh. “Last night really brought all that home for me… how much we’ve been through together, how much I love you…” Kate’s eyes focused on some invisible point as she snuggled up in Galen’s arms.
“I guess it was feeling that I might not have the chance to tell you how I feel, having all those regrets about things I wished I’d done, things I wished I’d said to you…” Kate shook her head remorsefully. “It kind of makes other things seem trivial, you know?”
Byron frowned in confusion, glad that Kate couldn’t see his face as she lay with her cheek resting against his chest. “Er, yeah, I know what you mean,” he said uncertainly, wrapping an arm around Kate and stroking her shoulder gently. “I mean… it’s in those moments that we realise what we truly want out of life.”
“Exactly,” agreed Kate, tilting her head upwards to look at her husband, “and I want you, more than anything else in the world. Sometimes, things in the past… they have to stay there, don’t you think? I mean, we can’t change what’s already happened we just have to move on. And I want to,” added Kate with a weak yet encouraging smile, “I want to move on, with you.”
Kate rested her head back down on Galen’s chest again, her middle finger tracing tiny circles in the thin cotton fabric of his t-shirt. “I know we agreed to give things another go between us, but you have to admit… things haven’t really been the same.” Kate sighed and rolled over onto her stomach so that she could lie more comfortably and face Galen properly, her body resting against his chest. “You know I tried to pretend that they were, tried to make myself- force myself into acting like there was nothing wrong… but there was, wasn’t there?”
Byron opened his mouth a little, inhaling as though about to speak and then… nothing. He clamped his lips together and instead just nodded a little, reaching out a hand to stroke through Kate’s silky hair. Kate closed her eyes and sighed contentedly, rubbing her cheek against Galen’s hand as it brushed next to her face.
“It feels like we’ve been living in this limbo existence for so long,” sighed Kate again wearily, opening her eyes. “Just… going through the motions. I don’t want things to be like that forever. I want us to love each other like before, because I do love you Galen, so very much.” Kate ran her hands over Galen’s chest, smoothing out a wrinkle in his t-shirt.
“Last night,” she sighed in frustration, “before all hell broke loose… I felt that way for the first time in so long, like it was just you and me again, and I so desperately want us to make love. I, I just need to feel… close to you. I know it would help and it’s been so long. I know this is going to sound silly but I…” Kate blushed a little, averting her gaze shyly, “I physically ache for you, my body, my soul, everything longs to feel you, to be with you again…”
Byron’s mouth gaped a little in abject stupefaction, but even though he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty for fooling Kate like this, for letting her speak her heart about the most intimate details of her marriage, he also felt completely aroused. She had never said such things to him when they had been together, nothing even close. It was obvious that she was completely in love with her husband despite whatever problems they had and Byron could feel her desire burning deep inside like an unquenchable fire. But the fact that she was saying those things to him made Byron feel strange. Made him feel a pang of bitterness and annoyance in the pit of his stomach.
Kate frowned a little as she looked up at him. “Honey? Are you okay?” she asked in concern. “You seem a little, I don’t know… different.”
Byron wet his lips in contemplation, drawing Kate up into his arms. She had made a fool of him last night; that thought alone consumed his thoughts, that and all those hot nights they had spent together all those years ago. The times they had fucked almost violently with an unquenchable fire of their own, angrily and viciously like two wild uncontrollable animals. He’d never felt that with anyone else, a feral ferocity awakening his inner beast, making him burn with a desire to consume his mate entirely.
It suddenly struck Byron that he’d never laid in bed with Kate like this before, not once in the entire nine months their depraved little affair had lasted. After sex they would depart almost immediately, spent and wrecked, like the victims of a violent collision. Sometimes they would fight again, other times Kate would weep with exhaustion, inconsolably, while Byron would carry her back to bed and leave her on her own to deal with it. It suddenly struck Byron again that Kate had none of that anger and hatred in her relationship with Galen. With him she was all tenderness and devotion. They shared a love that was respectful and almost religious in its intensity. As the full realisation of the polarity between the two hit him, Byron felt an uncontrollable and resentful fury for Kate intensifying within his heart.
“I’m just the same as I always was,” said Byron eventually, carefully masking his distaste. “I just… missed you too, but maybe we could do something about that?”
Kate looked a little uncertain. The feelings she was getting from Galen were a little muted but she could still sense an underlying anger and animosity burning deep inside of him even though it was obvious that he was trying to control it. Kate wanted to take a moment to talk more, maybe find out what was upsetting him but she had no time as he took hold of her firmly, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her close as he pressed his lips hard against hers.
Kate recoiled a little, taken aback by the unexpectedness of Galen’s embrace as his tongue ploughed its way roughly into her mouth, his lips assaulting her own almost greedily. The kiss felt strange, different… not good though not entirely bad either. Kate had expected things to be somewhat different between them but this was so unlike the man she knew and loved that it was beginning to frighten her. As she tried to pull away, Galen held her even more firmly, not allowing her to back off. He locked his lips against hers fiercely, his tongue pressing harder into her mouth as though he wanted to devour her completely.
When he finally drew back, Kate had to gasp for breath. Her lips felt sore and tingled with the force of the kiss, while her mouth felt completely ravaged. “Oh… um wow,” grimaced Kate uneasily as she pulled back, not really sure what had happened, “well, that was certainly something… new?”
“How about something else… new?” Byron growled, pulling Kate close against his body again. He was getting particularly aroused right now especially since Kate still hadn’t realised his little deception.
Kate giggled nervously with a combination of excitement and growing apprehension as Galen’s hands pawed roughly at her body. “Woah!” she suddenly squealed in surprise as she felt his hand push its way between her legs, his fingers forcing their way beneath her underwear. “Hey… hey, now,” Kate laughed, as she tried to make light of what was rapidly becoming a very uncomfortable situation. She took hold of Galen’s errant hand and pulled it away, enclosing it firmly in both of hers while fixing her husband with a playful yet uncompromising stare. “I thought we were supposed to be taking things slowly?”
“Oh, don’t be a tease, Catherine…” moaned Byron as he eased his hands out of her hold and rubbed his body hard against hers again, burying his face in her warm breasts. “I know you want this as much as I do.”
Kate moaned a little as Galen’s mouth sucked at her sensitive skin, his hands squeezing her rear firmly. It had been such a long time since they’d been so intimate and she had to admit that even though his behaviour was strange it still felt quite lovely, if she could only get him to slow down a little, to be a bit more gentle…
“Oh, Galen I-” began Kate, wrapping her hands on either side of his face, drawing his gaze to meet hers as she moved to kiss him. Suddenly Kate stopped, her eyes narrowing slightly as she gazed into her husband’s face. Something wasn’t right, she could feel it. A sort of cruel delight flashed through his usually warm and gentle eyes and his lips were twisted into a triumphant sneer. In that second everything suddenly fit into place and Kate uttered a short cry of realisation, her face twisting into an expression of absolute repulsion and outrage.
“You!” she cried in mortification, recoiling suddenly before raising her hand and slapping Byron hard across the face. “You! YOU! BASTARD!” she shouted, hitting him again and again, harder with each blow.
Byron laughed as he let his glamour melt away, his own emboldened, arrogant features contorting into an expression of sinister pleasure as he grabbed hold of Kate’s wrists tightly, fending off her hysterical attack. “What’s wrong dear? I thought we were getting along just… swimmingly… Was I mistaken, or were you actually becoming aroused back then?” He yanked her close and rubbed his groin against her lewdly. “I know I was…”
Kate cried out in disgust, dragging herself free from Byron’s hold and scrambling out of the bed, grabbing her robe and pulling the long, silky fabric tightly around her half-dressed body. “Get out of here now, Byron!” she yelled furiously. “Get out or I’ll scream so loudly every warrior soldier on patrol from here to Greville’s Tower will come running in to throw your pathetic, MISERABLE ass in jail!”
“Oh, way to sweet-talk me Wiccham!” laughed Byron contemptuously. “You do that and every witch in the whole of Sindell will know how I managed to deceive you. And then there’s Galen of course…"
“Don’t you dare!” spat Kate angrily, striding across the room furiously as Byron climbed out of bed and began zipping his pants back up and straightening out his t-shirt. “Don’t you DARE!” she repeated venomously, firmly pressing her index finger against his chest, punctuating her words. “Don’t you even think of trying to blackmail me. You’re the one in the wrong! You’re the one who pretended to be my husband, who, who listened while I poured my heart out to you! Who got into bed with me! Who tried to… ugh Gaia! I can’t even think about it without feeling sick!”
“As I recall, Kate,” sneered Byron. “YOU were the one who invited me into your bed, if you’re too stupid not to know your husband when you see him that’s your problem!” Byron sniggered to himself, “Or were you so desperate for some action it was just a matter of the first man who came along? What was it you were babbling about? How you’re so desperate to make love that you physically ache for him? How pathetic.”
Kate could feel herself burning with savage fury inside just like all those years ago when the two of them had been lovers. She hated him with such a terrifying passion, such violent malice that her blood ran hot and fiery in her veins like molten lava.
Byron could tell he was getting under Kate’s skin and smiled in satisfaction, circling his most cherished adversary and lover with malicious playfulness. “You know…” he whispered in her ear as he leaned in over her shoulder, “I have the terrible feeling that husband of yours is turning you into a frustrated housewife.”
Byron laughed viciously and grabbed Kate’s wrist tightly as she spun around and swung out her hand to slap him again. “Oh, look, not lost any of your fire then, I see? Just desperate for a good, hard fuck… nothing new there either… Tell me Kate, are you still as good as you used to be? Because I have to say, I’ve paid women for their favours and they’ve paled in comparison to some of your particular… talents…”
“Shut up!” Kate demanded vehemently. “Just shut up Byron! You contemptible little worm, are you so pathetic that the only way you can get a woman to sleep with you is to trick her into believing that you’re someone else? I’m sure everyone would love to know just how worthless and sad Lord Byron Horatio Spencer the third really is! Dear daddy will be so proud to know what kind of son he raised, a real gentleman!”
Byron’s eyes flashed with rage and he grabbed hold of Kate by the shoulders, pressing his fingers painfully into her flesh as he slammed her back hard against the wall. His breathing was ragged and tumultuous and his muscles rippled with barely restrained anger. He slipped his hands up Kate’s shoulders, wrapping them loosely around her neck contemplatively, tracing the faint red line where she had almost had her throat cut. After a moment he slid his hands to either side of Kate’s face, cupping her cheeks firmly and holding her still while he pressed his lips hard against hers.
Kate moaned in protest as Byron kissed her with unfettered lust, his tongue ploughing its way back into her mouth as it had before, his lips firmly enclosing her own within his hot, moist embrace. Kate pressed her hand against his chest in an attempt to push him back but she was still too weak and Byron too strong and impassioned to put up with any resistance. He took hold of her arms and pinned them at either side of her head while he continued to rub his body against hers and kiss her with unrestrained desire.
“I’d forgotten just how tempestuous you were…” he breathed headily, feeling almost dizzy from the reawakened passions that surged through his body. “I’ve never met a woman who can put me down like you do… it’s such a turn on.”
Kate inhaled sharply as Byron all but mauled her, letting his large hands grope her body through the thin folds of her robe.
“No…” she protested breathlessly, “Bryon… stop…” Kate closed her eyes confusedly, trying to block out the feelings that her former lover was so desperately trying to awaken. She had always regretted their relationship, detesting the emotions it inspired. Anger, loathing, destruction, fear, pain, fury. They had once consumed her entirely, when she had felt so lost and alone without Luc in her life, when she had felt the weighty burden of her great destiny that was being thrust upon her. Byron had offered her release, a violent, self-annihilating release and she had taken it, revelled in it, pursued it like a woman dying of thirst. Kate could feel a small part of her body tingle with delight at the sensations Byron was stimulating, like a wild, savage animal that was demanding to be freed. She had wanted to feel such things for so long… but not like this, not with Byron.
Kate opened her eyes fiercely, grabbing hold of Byron by his hair, twisting her fingers in the thick lengths and fixing him with a determined glare. “Byron, I despise you,” she said firmly, her voice certain and without recourse. “I hate you, everything that you are, everything that you represent…”
Byron laughed suddenly, his voice almost sounding giddy and laced with tenderness as he gently cradled her face in his hands, looking deeply into her dark blue eyes. “And I think you’re the most exasperating woman I’ve ever had the displeasure to meet. You’re infuriatingly moralistic, obsessed with always doing the right thing… Most of the time you just make my blood boil.” Byron’s body all but trembled with unspent passions. “I find you irritating and naively idealistic. But ever since we had our little verbal foreplay, ever since the first moment I saw you from across the room last night… I just can’t stop thinking about…”
The two of them shared a strange, unnerving silence before Byron thrust himself upon Kate again, his hands cupping her breasts and tearing at the silk belt of her robe, anxious to remove the thin material that was the only barrier stopping him from claiming his prize.
“No, Byron stop,” said Kate firmly, pushing the man off her with renewed determination, “Byron I said STOP!” Kate jammed her knee hard between his legs, shoving him to the floor as he tried to control his howls of pain, rolling on the ground and holding his aching groin protectively in both hands.
“AHHH!!!” he groaned, his face contorted into an expression of absolute agony. “Awwww, FUCK! Fuuuucccckkk! Fuck you Wiccham!” he shouted furiously, struggling to regain control of himself. “You goddamn… fuck!”
Kate breathed heavily from the exertion, straightening out her robe and pulling the belt tight around her waist. “You don’t get it do you?” she panted breathlessly. “What we had is over! I’m sorry if you can’t get that through your thick skull but… It. Is. Over!” Kate paced the room a little, sweeping her hair out of her face and wiping at her mouth to try to remove the taste of him. “It should never have happened in the first place, what we had was self-destructive and dangerous and I wanted that back then but I’m not in that place any more. I feel sorry for you if you are.”
Byron shook his head in disbelief. “Oh don’t you dare act all high and mighty with me!” he yelled, his face bright red as he tried to overcome his physical pain. “Have you forgotten how many times you came knocking on my door in the middle of the night, desperate for me? You needed me back then, you couldn’t live without me, do you think I’d forget something like that?”
Byron struggled to pull himself up from the floor, resting on the edge of a chair. “Tell me you didn’t enjoy it, all those months when we were together, tell me that wasn’t some of the best sex of your life!”
“It meant nothing,” insisted Kate, vehemently. “All it did was show me everything that I didn’t want in my life, including you. When Luc left the coven…”
“Oh yes, do let’s talk about dear Lucien Aeterus!” spat Byron. “A man to whom we mere mortals can only aspire! I hate to burst your bubble, Catherine, but the man is dead. Do the living a favour and quit glorifying his name. I’m sick of you always talking about him like he was some kind of martyr when the truth is he abandoned you when you needed him the most!”
“No,” said Kate firmly, shaking her head, “you’re wrong. He was doing his job, he didn’t have a choice… He had a duty to the coven-”
“And what about his duty to you?” hissed Byron contemptuously, “the woman he loved? He had a choice, Catherine, and he chose Sindell over you. Then five years later he came waltzing back into your life and you welcomed him home like nothing had happened. Did you even pause to consider my feelings-”
“Your feelings!?” laughed Kate incredulously. “That must be a first, I didn’t realise you had any!”
“MY feelings,” said Byron firmly, rising woodenly from his chair, his eyes flashing with cooled rage, “when you went ahead and married that debaucher Logan even though I warned you about him. When you came crying to me after he beat you, when he used to lock you up in your room for days, when he would rape you so badly you could barely walk… how do you think I felt watching you endure all of that, for two years? I waited for you Catherine,” said Byron, taking hold of Kate by the shoulders again, though his touch was more gentle this time. “I waited for you to walk away from him and you never did, not until Lucien came back. Did I mean so little to you?”
Kate frowned in confusion, her eyes wide in disbelief. “Byron… I didn’t… I mean, I never thought…”
“Oh don’t upset yourself, Catherine,” growled Byron in ridicule, relinquishing his hold quickly and turning his back on her. “It’s not like I was in love with you or anything, you were just an amusement to me, something to while away the hours.” Byron laughed flippantly, “The very idea! Myself, a Lord and you… a worthless little commoner. My father would probably hang himself in shame! No, no, I was merely inconvenienced by your pathetic little escapades. All that effort I went to, grooming you to be my own personal whore and you went and got yourself married.”
“You’re unbelievable, Byron, you really are,” said Kate reservedly. She remembered quiet clearly Byron bragging to his friends about how he’d found a woman to be his mistress once he was ready to get married. The very thought of it had made her sick and had been the final straw that had finally made her end things between them. “And if you’ve finally finished raking up the past, I think it’s time you left.”
Byron regarded Kate silently for a moment. Even now, with her bed-ruffled hair and dishevelled attire she looked simply ravishing; their impassioned discourse had roused both a rosy glow to her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes.
“With pleasure,” replied Byron with a hardened smile. “As though I would want anything to do with a sad little housewife whose greatest ambition in life is to get knocked up.” Byron glowered at Kate as he retrieved his sweater and shoes and finished getting dressed. “You know, you used to be really something, Wiccham… vibrant, tenacious, ambitious. You had a gift, the kind of gift that most of us here only dream of possessing. But it’s just tragic to see what that Norm of a husband has turned you into. You’ll never be happy with him, you know? I mean look at yourself! You got hurt because he wasn’t man enough to protect you…”
“You are SO wrong,” said Kate determinedly as she watched Byron fasten on his shoes. “Galen saved my life last night, and I love him… every inch of my body, my soul, my mind is in love with him. You might think that’s settling for an easy life but it means more to me than any high flying delusions of destiny. But how could you ever understand, Byron? You never could, because loving someone means that every day you risk being hurt, risk having your heart broken, and you do it anyway. It’s about putting another’s happiness above your own, about allowing yourself to be vulnerable and at the same time allowing yourself to take strength from one another. Galen is a good man, he’s brave and courageous and not just because he has magic powers or otherworldly strengths, but because he is capable of nothing less. That makes him more of a man than anyone I know.”
“So I know nothing about love?” asked Byron as he rose to his feet, fixing Kate with a long, intense stare. The two of them stood opposite one another as a long, uncomfortable silence settled between them. Finally Byron drew his gaze away disgustedly, his top lip curling upwards into a slight sneer of annoyance. He threw his hands up in the air and stalked towards the door.
“Well at least I know when I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he said with a chuckle, his hand resting on the door handle as he turned back to take a final look at Kate. She stood in the middle of the room, a confused expression wrinkling her forehead. “It was nice catching up,” Byron said with a derisive glare. “By the way, good luck tomorrow… you’re going to need it.”
Kate’s frown increased. “I don’t understand.”
“No,” said Byron, opening the door as he resumed his glamour, “you don’t.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
May 23rd
9:00 am
The Council mansion
Sitting in a bench under a small group of oaks, Alessa drank her iced tea and lazily watched the rows of demons training in the baking sun. She was the perfect image of the pampered socialite in her elegant summer dress and stylish hairdo. However, her eyes and mind were all but lazy or pampered as she scanned the grounds, taking everything she saw into account. The Slayer seemed the same haughty bitch she had when she had met her as Tash, and the rows of demons looked just as well trained and obedient.
She turned to watch the high fence around the grounds too. She knew it wasn’t difficult to climb, but she also knew about the wards. *Well, let’s hope I don’t have to get out that way,* she thought when the sounds of an argument reached her ears, surprised that any of the demons had actually dared to stand up to their commander.
A slow smile curved her full lips when she recognized the 'rebel'. *Kyle, figures!* she thought, and leant back to enjoy the spectacle of the annoying demon be put in his place. She wondered what the demon was doing within the mansion, but then he had always been trouble. However, as the scene ensued, she frowned. *Nobody deserves that treatment,* she thought, *not even Kyle!* That Slayer was a bitch indeed!
“Kaoshian!” Ana cried, storming across the training fields towards Kyle. “Kaoshian, I am addressing you!”
“What?!” Kyle replied, equally hostile as he rounded on the approaching Slayer. “Wanna go for another round?”
Ana threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, little Kaoshian, I would like nothing more. But there’ll be time for that later. Right now, you have latrine duty which you have been neglecting. You march into the latrines right now, soldier, or I’ll kick your worthless hide there!”
“Go screw yourself,” Kyle muttered.
Kyle didn’t see the slap coming, but felt its sting real enough. “Another two months latrine duty! Keep this up and you’ll be cleaning them for a century. If they’re not sparkling by this afternoon,” the Slayer said as she turned to leave, “I’m going to recommend further punishment to the Lord Delancre. You have been warned, Kaoshian!”
Kyle held up both hands as if introducing himself. "My name is KYLE. Say it. K-Y-L-E. Kyle. And we have SERVITORS to clean the damned latrines for us. You know what? You want the damned latrines cleaned so much; you damned well go do it. I'm off for a smoke..." he said to her retreating back, before he turned and stormed off himself.
*Well, the boy has pump, I have to admit it,* Alessa thought as she watched Kyle walk towards her spot without noticing her there. She kept still as he lighted his cigarette with a flaming finger and took a couple of drags before talking.
"Haughty bitch, right?"
Kyle snorted. “You have no idea.” Then he stopped, gave Alessa a double look, and took a step back immediately on-guard. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Alessa raised an eyebrow. "Making your wishes come true?" She laughed at the look of complete disgust in his face; they understood each other, this demon and her.
"Come on, I won't bite you, and you look as if you need a glass of iced tea." She leant to fill her glass again for the demon and offered it to him; when Kyle didn’t move, Alessa rolled her eyes. "Ok, forget I said that, you don’t need anything, but you may like it."
She dangled the glass in front of him, appreciating the sweat covering him and making the T-shirt stick to his body. *He's not so much older than your students! Shame on you!* her inner voice sounded in her mind, and she smiled even more broadly. *Good thing I'm long lived, then,* she answered herself.
Taking another drag on the cigarette, Kyle squinted at her. “I’m not thirsty, and you have no idea about my wishes,” he answered, impressed with how cryptic it sounded. *Why am I so surprised she’s here? She IS half-demon after all.*
“So. Delancre getting desperate on soldiers? Or maybe you’re serving ‘his Lord’ in another way...” Leaving the sentence hanging, he took another drag and smile smiled sinisterly.
Alessa looked at herself and feigned surprise. "Do I look like a soldier to you?" she asked and she laughed at his expression. "Why? Do you envy him?" She couldn’t help but taunt him.
“Why should I?” Kyle smiled back. “I wonder what Cole thinks, knowing you’re with ‘his Lord’…” *Actually, I don’t,* Kyle thought, *But I wonder if it’ll wind her up?*
She rolled her eyes again. "He won't be happy, I'm sure; but I'm entitled to live my life as I wish, verdad?"
The thought had passed her mind, though, and she wasn’t so nonchalant about it, to be honest, but she wouldn’t admit anything to this insufferable demon. And of course she wouldn’t admit it to him her real reasons to be with 'his Lord'.
She looked away for a moment. "So, you like it here? I bet it's just a great improvement over my house, huh?" she said, ironically. Then she turned to watch him. "Why do you dislike me so much, Kyle?"
Kyle cocked his head. “Yeah, if you must know, this place is better.” And even as he said it, the conditioning meant he believed it. “And my reasons are my own. You just said you’re entitled to live your life as you wish, well, so am I.”
Alessa sighed. This demon had 'issues' all right, but it wasn’t her place nor her job to help him deal with them. "In that we agree," she answered, drinking her tea.
"And this place is better, indeed," she added looking around, just in case he had to report this conversation at some time. "I'm contemplating staying here for a long time."
"For which I will be eternally grateful, my love."
Delancre's arm slipped around Alessa's waist, causing the demoness to start at his sudden appearance. He'd been approaching from behind the pair and had caught a little of their conversation. That Mr Ashton had known Alessa before disturbed him, and he vowed to keep her separated from the Kaoshian as well. The last thing Alessa needed was reminders of her life outside the mansion.
"But you," he said disapprovingly, turning to Kyle, "I believe you were given orders that you have refused to obey. Mr Ashton, must I remind you that you agreed to sign on to this outfit, and that entails abiding by our discipline. If Miss Graziani has assigned you to punishment, it's for a reason and I cannot have you flaunting that."
Kyle mumbled and grumbled, then threw his cigarette to the ground and stumped it out with a ‘thump’ of his foot. As he turned in direction of the latrines he muttered something.
“I’m sorry, what was that, Mr. Ashton?” Delancre asked.
“Yes, my Lord. I live to obey,” Kyle replied, a little louder, but still not believing it entirely and walked off. Delancre made a mental note to make sure the extra conditioning session was harder today. Those he had been skipping - there was more to latrine duty than cleaning the toilets - were taking their toll. Ah, well. At least it was having some effect – Kyle was at least somewhat more deferential to him these days than he had been.
Turning his immediate attention back to Alessa, Delancre planted a soft kiss upon her cheek and murmured, "My dear, you are a vision of radiant beauty today. How I long to bask in your glory all day - but sadly, I have many duties today. I am afraid I must postpone our lunch together."
Alessa pouted prettily, even if inside she was beaming. She had been wondering how she would do to leave the house alone. She needed to tell the others about Daye’s capture.
"But Ambrose, I had planned for us to go shopping together afterwards. You said I shouldn’t bring many clothes, and I need some new things." She smiled up at him, "I had thought it would be nice if I tried things for you…"
Inwardly Delancre groaned in frustration. Just the thought of Alessa parading prettily before him with various outfits made his loins stir. "Well, perhaps you can show them to me when you come home... privately. And who knows, perhaps some outfits will look better with different," he stroked her hair and face, "looks."
She smiled broadly, as if adjusting to the idea. "I'll be sure to pick things that'll fit different 'looks' then," she answered, licking her lips. "Are you sure you don’t mind if I go alone, then? I really need some new things," she looked down to her dress, frowning. "I could manage a couple more days, but I want to look pretty for you."
Enfolding her in a warm embrace, Ambrose kissed her firmly before replying, "Of course you may, my dear. Go do your shopping, but hurry back. I can't wait to see what you buy."
Gazing at her for a moment, he was glad that he'd taken care of the Pelor situation. With his best agent on the demon's trail, there was no way Pelor would reach Los Angeles or Alessa. Still, he wasn't about to let her go gallivanting around the city completely alone - she would never know of it, but she would have an escort on her shopping trip. The smile he gave her showed none of these musings, however, simply his undying love and devotion.
She gave him a dazzling smile. "Ok, I promise you'll love what I buy, but I can't promise you I'll be quick. You can't rush a lady when shopping," she said, tipping his nose with her finger. "However, I can give you an appetiser now, so you won't be waiting for the main course so eagerly."
Delancre's eyes glittered with delight. "Hmm, I'm sure I can move a couple of appointments around for a quick 'appetiser'. He bent his head to nuzzle her neck before standing swiftly and lifting her in his arms.
"Off to the tower with you, milady," he grinned playfully as he carried her to the mansion, "and we shall see what delights await us."
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
May 23rd
"Pirosmani" Restaurant
Noon
Alessa sat on a high stool at the bar of the "Pirosmani", the small and cosy Russian restaurant that had been set as contact point by Nikolai. After thinking about it, she had decided not to make 'reservations' there unless completely unavoidable. How many times could she get out with that scheme, after all? Too many reservations in a Russian restaurant and Delancre would suspect; the man was just too clever and little escaped his sight.
Instead she had seized the opportunity and arranged for this little 'exchange' instead. Watching her own reflection in the mirror behind the bar, Alessa studied the form she was wearing; trust Inés to pick somebody just too stunning to pass unnoticed. As she changed clothes with her cousin in the "Laughing Dogs" ladies' room, she had made it clear that she'd prefer less conspicuous forms in the future if they were to pull this off. *Same with clothes,* she thought; the red dress she was wearing couldn’t pass unnoticed either.
She sipped at her cup of sherry, avoiding the pointed stares a man on the other end of the bar was sending her and checked her watch. If Nikolai took too much longer to arrive she'd have to leave this for other day, but she didn’t really want that. Who knew when she would be able to leave the mansion alone again? She was thinking along those lines when her friend entered the restaurant, greeting the barman in Russian. He was followed shortly behind by Jimmy, the Italian gangster. She saw Nikolai check her up and give a slight smile before setting into one of the red leather booths at the end of the room.
Nikolai sat down in the booth silently, observing the entire room. Fortunately he didn’t get that funny feeling down in your gut which told you that you should just call the whole thing off. If he’d had that feeling, he would have simply disappeared back out of the door, making like he forgot something. Jimmy the Hand slid into the chair across from him.
“No, I don’t know what’s happening,” Jimmy was saying. “All I know is that a couple of my guys disappeared. This is all your fault.”
Nikolai recoiled in surprise some at this statement. “My fault? How is my fault?” He shook his head to cut Jimmy off before he could go on a tirade about not taking proper vengeance. "Look, let’s just enjoy lunch then get back to work.”
From her place at the bar Alessa frowned, looking at the men through the mirror; she hadn't counted on him being accompanied, but she knew Nikolai trusted Jimmy and she really didn’t have much time. Raising an eyebrow at the soft but heated tones of their voices, Alessa stood up with her cup in her hand and was about to walk towards the booth when the man who had been watching her earlier suddenly appeared at her side.
"Going somewhere, krasveetsa?" he asked, his left hand firmly gripping the bar counter at her side.
Alessa looked at him down her nose - at least this form was tall - and snorted. "Not of your business." She tried to move but the man firmly placed his right hand on the counter at the other side of her body. *Thank you Inés,* she thought before looking at the man again. He was young and obviously stupid. "I don’t think that's a good idea, dear."
The man grinned, looking up and down her. They were very close and he leaned on her. "Why not, dear?" he whispered.
"Because of this," Alessa said and gripped his crotch strongly, instantly making too much pressure. "Now step back or say goodbye to your future progeny."
At his slowly going backwards, Alessa smiled. "That's it, good boy," she said and let go of his groin. Without looking back she started to walk towards Nikolai's booth.
Jimmy’s eyes suddenly went wide as he glanced across the room. “Heads up, real tough broad heading this way.” His own privates ached in sympathy with the other man, and figured that he probably would not check out a beautiful woman for at least several days.
Nikolai tossed a curious glance behind him, then looked back. She was someone who was bound to get more than a little attention if she wanted it. Hell, all she had to do was walk to get attention, and she was heading over this way. Inwardly he sighed, wondering which of them she was coming over to try to pick up… then noticed the concern radiating from her, and determination. One of his hands moved to a small pocket pistol, just in case, as the woman got over to the table. “Can I help you, Miss….?”
"Come on, Nikolai, can't you recognize an old friend?" she asked; she just couldn’t help teasing him. She winked, her eyes following his movements though. "You can relax too, I couldn’t conceal a weapon in this dress even if I tried," she added and laughed. Then she turned to the other man. "Good to see you again too, Jimmy."
Not underestimating them, anyway, Alessa stood by the table, enjoying the expressions of puzzlement on their faces before asking. "Can I sit down? It's not polite to keep a lady standing like this."
The two men exchanged concerned glances before Nikolai motioned her to the seat across the table. Jimmy got up to allow her to sit down, then promptly sat to the other side of her again, blocking her ability to make a quick exit. Nikolai felt the worry increase a small bit at this. “I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to be rude,” he said with a smile. “You said you know us?”
Alessa smiled, trying to calm down a bit. She was with Nikolai now, even if he was still acting the tough mobster on her. She leaned back and extended her arms over the back of the rounded booth's seat. "Of course I do," she answered lazily, "and so do you. You just have to stop being thick and look behind the surface." She winked at him again. She didn’t want to spoil her ruse in front of the Italian, at least not here, not unless Nikolai did so.
Nikolai and Jimmy exchanged glances, and Jimmy could tell that Nikolai had a sneaking suspicion as to exactly who was sitting down with them at the table. If it was the right person, her having a different form, while surprising, was not to be unexpected. “Yeah, sure. That guy treating you any better, or do we need to have a chat with him?”
"Nah," she answered, relaxing. He had understood and yet not let Jimmy know. That was even better with her, although a little more difficult. "I can handle him, things have gone as expected."
She smiled bitterly, and looked at him again. "It’s a friend of mine I'm worried about."
That confirmed her identity for Nikolai, though he was still prepared to play it at least partly safe. “Jimmy, this here’s a friend of mine,” he said. “Mind giving us a little space?”
The other gangster gave a sideways glance to her before sliding out of the seat. “Yeah, sure, I’ll just go get us some drinks.” Nikolai knew that he would take his time with it, but be watching from a distance in case anything happened.
Nikolai relaxed some in the booth, though still stayed tense. If this was Alessa, she probably learned something about someone Delancre could be going after. “So, what’s the problem?” he asked.
Alessa smiled, her hands moving to her sherry cup on the table. Casting a quick glance towards Jimmy she turned her attention to the Russian again. "Delancre has Daye, Nik. I heard the rumor in the house that his 'protégée' was being held in the basement some days ago-" She didn’t tell him from whom she had heard the rumour, though; she didn’t feel like discussing Tash at the moment.
Nikolai nodded in concern. It was nice to have confirmation from another source at the very least. “Word got to us from her fiancée. The man is quite distraught…” He stopped at her shock at hearing him comment on this. “I’m sorry. I know you risked a lot to get here, and we do appreciate it. At the very least, you managed to get to spend some time with a friend though, right?”
She frowned, and then grinned. "Of course it is, and maybe there's something more I can tell you that you don’t already know." She winked, "It's good that you know of Daye though. I assume you are planning something?" Then she frowned again. "But please don’t tell me what, I don’t want to know anything about it."
“Of course not – what you don’t know you can’t reveal,” he said, though also wondered how she could help without revealing any of the plan to her at all. That was when the thought occurred to him… “I think the two of you might consider trying to make up,” he said, trying to sound like he was just discussing a relationship with a friend. He hoped she would take the hint to be as vague as possible. “There is in fact a new production of Fiddler opening at one of the theatres at the end of the month you might consider.”
"The Fiddler? I don’t think I'd like it, too much singing and dancing." Alessa said. Aalthough she regretted it, she couldn’t put herself in the position of taking Delancre out of the mansion on the particular day Daye was going to be rescued. She would have to think of some other way to distract him, though. "However, I'll be paying attention to the reviews."
Then another thought crossed her mind and she frowned. From what she had seen, Delancre was quite pissed with Daye. Besides, she had been imprisoned for almost ten days. She had already seen how bad Daye was, who knew what Delancre would do to her next? Maybe the end of month would be too late. "Besides, it may be too late already to get seats by that time."
Nikolai raised an eyebrow in concern at that. He knew that Delancre could have some hard means at his disposal when it came to asking questions. Daye could be broken or even worse by then. “It’s that bad, is it?” he asked morbidly, afraid of the answer.
"I'm afraid it may get to be." She bit her lip and looked at Jimmy's direction again.
"Daye's resisting, that may not be good for her. At the moment she's isolated, hungry and thirsty… " She thought of the Tenoil'ka's lusty grin and shivered, wishing that she was just imagining things there. She swallowed and went on, "I saw her yesterday."
Nikolai looked intently at her, "You saw her? Where is she? Tell me all you know," he asked.
Alessa nodded, at least she could help with that. "I took the form of one of the servants who are allowed to get to her. I gave her some food and water, and told her I'd get word to her friends. She didn’t know it was me."
Then she told Nikolai all she remembered about Delancre's cellar and Daye's cell. Including the Tenoil'ka.
"It's not much, but I don’t dare to do much more than that." She blushed and lowered her eyes. "I believe Delancre is getting to trust me, I can't risk it." *Even less now that I saw what he's capable of doing.* "I'm sorry if I sound callous, but…"
Nikolai nodded in understanding about the tough choices that one sometimes had to make in these sorts of things. “I know, we all do what we think we can to help out our friends. Don’t worry, though, it’ll all turn out all right in the end, and I'm sure Daye appreciated it.”
"I hope so," she answered, sighing. "I don’t know how I'll be able to help anybody though. So far I've explored the mansion as much as I can, but he hasn’t shown me the labs or the barracks." She grimaced, "I don’t think I have learnt anything of any value." *I'm not sure I'm doing anything of any value, apart from giving a poor woman some chocolate,* she thought, feeling the despair rise in her.
Brushing the feelings aside, she smiled. "I'll try to help with the reservations for the Fiddler, even if I don’t go see the play, ok?"
Then, as in second thought, she added, "And please tell Cole that his demon friend is in the mansion too." She thought of Delancre and Ana's treatment of the Kaoshian and shuddered. "I believe he'll like to know, he may need some helping as well. Just don’t tell him how you know."
She checked her watch, the same watch that was providing her with safety; it was already too late. Alessa should be finishing lunch at the 'Laughing Dogs' by now. "I really have to go now, Nik, strange as it may sound I have clothes to buy." Alessa rose from the seat and slid out of the booth, but before leaving she gave him a dazzling smile. "It was good to see you, Nik. Give my regards to Katya and tell her I'm faring all right."
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, 23rd May 2007 – 8:45am
Longwood Inc. Los Angeles
“Sir?”
A secretary rapped lightly on Mike Coulter’s office door and took a step or two inside when he nodded to her.
“There’s a Mr Pelor on the phone for you, sir. He’s calling collect from Mexico. We had an e-mail from the London office saying he’d rung them earlier about Alessa Hunt and they had a note that he should go straight through to Mr Longwood, but since Mr Longwood is-”
“Yes, yes. Thank you, Natalie,” Mike interrupted. “I’ll speak to him.”
Frowning about why somebody wanting to talk to Alessa would ring Ellis instead, Mike picked up the phone and coughed softly before speaking. “Mr Pelor? I’m afraid Mr Longwood is unavailable. My name is Michael Coulter; I’m handling all his affairs. What can I do for you?”
Clutching the payphone to his hunched body, Pelor felt the world drop from under his feet. That Ellis was ‘unavailable’ worried him. Visions of possible disasters flew through his head, not least of which was the possibility that Alessa may have somehow been programmed to destroy her own support base. Was this Mr Coulter to be trusted? Perhaps he was in on the whole plot?
“Um… I really hoped to speak to Mr Longwood. It’s very urgent, please.” Pelor’s voice held more than a tinge of desperation as he tried to decide what to do if he really couldn’t speak to Ellis Longwood.
Mike frowned again, noticing the desperate tone of the man on the other side of the wire. It also held some distrust if he could read it right. His curiosity piqued, he rubbed his forehead, wondering how to proceed.
“Well, Mr Pelor, I’m afraid Mr Longwood cannot talk to you now. He’s been in an accident and he’s still recovering.” Mike tried to sound reasonable. “However, I’ll do what I can to help you, but only if I know what the problem is.”
For one tense moment, Pelor almost hung up the phone in a panic, but how else was he to reach Alessa? Maybe this was a trap, but even so he had to take the chance. There really was no other way across this border except the long, slow way – and even that bore no guarantees. So he swallowed once and firmed his resolve.
“Mr Coulter, I’m Alessa Hunt’s friend, and she’s a close friend of Ellis Longwood. A few months ago I rang him to arrange for, um, transport for Alessa. She was, well, in a bit of trouble and… um… Mr Longwood said he’d send a plane for her.”
Pelor shuffled nervously. He could almost feel Mr Coulter’s expectant gaze through the phone line and coughed a little before continuing. “Well, the thing is… there’s some more trouble, and Alessa may not realise how much she’s still in. I need to reach her, to find her. But I can’t get through to LA from here, not without help.”
Mike straightened in his chair. He did know of the phone call Pelor was mentioning; it had led to Alessa’s rescue from that wretched island. “Mr Pelor, I’m well aware of what you are talking about. I didn’t go to Isla Nublada myself but I helped Ellis in arranging the matter.”
He quickly thought about the problem of bringing an undocumented man into the United States, and it wasn’t such a big deal. He frowned then. No, not a person but a demon, if he didn’t remember wrongly; that’d be a little more difficult.
“Don’t worry, I’ll arrange transportation for you into the States.” His mind was whirling, thinking about the problem. He’d have to talk to Alessa about this. “You just stay there and wait for us. Where exactly are you now, Mr Pelor?”
Feeling somewhat happier about the situation with this Coulter person, Pelor let himself relax a little – though he wouldn’t be completely at ease until he was face to face with Alessa. He hesitated in his answer for a moment. The hot Mexican sun beat down upon his back, heating him too much through the fabric of the long cloak he was forced to wear or risk being stoned to death by the locals as a devil. In the end, he decided he had to trust someone, somewhere. Maybe Coulter was setting him up, or maybe he really could help. Either way, Pelor had to get across that border and right now he was left with few options.
“I’m in the town of Sonoita,” he answered finally. “It’s on the border with Arizona. But you’ll have no way to contact me here – how will I know who to look for?”
“Sonoita? Ok, it won’t take long to reach; you can expect somebody within the day. I expect there’s gotta be a hotel or posada in the town. My man will check in there, you can contact him.”
Mike thought about a way the contact could identify himself to the demon. “You are Alessa’s friend, right? Well, whoever gets to you will tell you something only she would know, ok? Don’t leave with anybody else.”
“All right. I... if you see her, please let her know I’m coming. I have something very important to tell her.”
“I will, Mr Pelor.” In fact he would be calling Alessa the moment he hung up the phone. Unfortunately, he was very much aware of how much ‘trouble’ she was in, as the demon had said. “I expect she’ll be happy to know it.”
“Thank you, Mr Coulter. Thank you.”
As he hung up the phone, Pelor looked around at the rough shanty town that surrounded him. Hotel? Here? Making a wry face, Pelor decided to go hunting for any place an American might feel offered acceptable accommodations. He didn’t hold out a great deal of hope. Still, there was one saving grace, he decided as he surveyed the ramshackle buildings – any American in town would stick out like the proverbial sore thumb, so at least he shouldn’t have any trouble spotting his contact.
Ducking his blue face deeper into the confines of his hood, Pelor moved out of the sun and began to move to the more acceptable parts of town.
The Elders Decide to Help
***Tuesday, 22nd May 2007 - 2:59pm, GMT - The Coven of Sindell, England*** (6:59am, Los Angeles Time)
Kate paced the antechamber to the Elder’s study as she waited for her husband to arrive.
After Byron’s cryptic departure earlier that morning, Galen had returned and the two of them had shared a lovely, if not slightly tense breakfast together. Kate had yet to tell Galen about her ‘encounter’ with Byron; the timing that morning just hadn’t felt right – not that there would ever be a good time to tell your husband that your former lover impersonated him to try and ‘relive old times’.
The events of that morning still troubled Kate, despite her best efforts to put them from her mind. She couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been, that Byron had been able to fool her so effortlessly! She had lain in his arms, poured out her heart to him, saying things - incredibly personal things - that had been meant for her husband’s ears only. The thought that Galen hadn’t heard a word of it, that instead she had whispered her most innermost desires and hopes for the future to a man who had wanted nothing more than to humiliate her as much as possible… it made her feel sick inside.
But more than that she hated herself for being so gullible, and more importantly for being too much of a coward to tell her husband. She hated keeping things from Galen, especially where Byron was concerned. She could just imagine how much he would crow if he managed to disclose his version of events before she’d had a chance to explain properly. She couldn’t let that happen, she couldn’t let Byron distort the truth and wreck the precious headway that they’d made so far. Things were so close to being good between herself and Galen after months of pain and hurting and distrust… she wouldn’t allow Byron to ruin all that.
“Oh, this is all such a mess,” sighed Kate wearily as she perched herself on the edge of a sofa, glancing up at the grandfather clock that stood ceremoniously in the far corner, ticking away the seconds with antiquated precision.
The Elders had sent word that they needed to speak with her less than thirty minutes ago. Not only that but they wanted Galen to be there too. It had thrown their plans for a nice relaxing afternoon together into disarray, and Galen had had to nip out to cancel the arrangements he’d made. Now Kate was waiting for him to arrive, frowning at the large hand of the grandfather clock as it inched its way towards the hour mark.
“Hey… I’m not late am I?”
“Oh… Galen,” said Kate in relief, standing as her husband suddenly pushed open the heavy door and entered the room. She moved over to his side, laying a relieved kiss upon his lips as she took hold of both his hands in hers. “I was just beginning to wonder…” Kate narrowed her eyes a little, observing Galen carefully to make sure she wasn’t being tricked again. “Er… that is, wondering where you were,” she added quickly, realising that she’d left her sentence hanging.
“Is… something wrong?” asked Galen with a frown. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
“No, no, nothing,” said Kate quickly, laughing lightly to cover her unease. “You’re perfect as always…” Kate paused for a moment, her breath catching in her throat a little. “Well, actually…” she said nervously, lowering her voice some so that no one else would be able to hear, “this isn’t the best time but there was something I needed to talk to you about-”
“-Mr, Ms Eldridge? Do come in.” Michael’s handsome face smiled at the doorway and he stretched his arm out invitingly, ushering the couple inside.
Kate sighed awkwardly as she let go of Galen’s hand and entered the room. Michael led the way through the large hall where Kate had met the Elders before and into a small, more intimate study. The main area was dressed mostly in shades of crimson, heavy drapes hung about the high windows and antique leather and thick damask upholstered chairs were positioned in various arrangements around the room while large gold leaf framed mirrors and paintings adorned the oak panelled walls. Through an open door, a glimpse of Sindell’s private library could be seen, said to house some of the oldest and rarest tomes on the occult in the entire world. The door was quickly pulled shut from within, a key turning in the lock by some unknown bibliophile who had no doubt paid rather handsomely for the privilege of being surrounded by such treasures.
Hestia and Christian were seated around a low table as Kate and Galen were led to join them, talking in hushed voices before looking up as they realised that they had company.
“Ah, Catherine, Galen, please won’t you sit?” directed Hestia as she rose from her chair, gesturing towards a double seated settee on the other side of the coffee table. When everyone was settled she smiled at the couple. “We were just about to have tea, won’t you join us?”
Kate glanced at Galen, exchanging similarly surprised glances at Hestia’s uncharacteristic cheerful and friendly tone. “Yes, of course…” answered Kate after a brief pause. “Thank-you.”
“Excellent,” said Hestia, arranging the cups and saucers. “I’ll be mother then, milk? Sugar?” Taking time to pour out the dark, almost black coloured liquid, Hestia soon redirected her attention to the couple, smiling indulgently as she handed Kate her cup of steaming hot tea. “How are you this afternoon, my dear?” she asked with more warmth and sincerity in her voice than Kate had ever heard before. “You do look a little weary, not too tired I hope?”
“Actually, I am… a little,” admitted Kate, taking the cup and resting the saucer upon her knee. “It’s been something of a hectic morning,” she added, glancing at her husband and catching a glimpse of a confused frown that spread across his face at her words.
“Well, we won’t take up too much of your time,” said Hestia kindly, “but after last night’s developments… I hope you don’t mind me speaking so easily, I can only imagine how upsetting the past twelve hours must have been, to put things mildly. But I, that is to say, we all feel that the events in question have radically altered our position in relation to other, quite pertinent matters.”
Kate frowned, taking in Hestia’s complex diction. “You mean, First Elder Ambrose Delancre?”
“To put it more simply, yes,” smiled Michael. “Luckily for us, Charles Hammond wasn’t too badly injured last night,” Michael nodded at Galen with a measure of admiration. “That was an impressive shot you made, you must be quite a marksman Mr Eldridge. Hammond and his cohort were put into confinement after they were healed and both men broke under interrogation early this morning, which is part of the reason why we needed to speak with you both today. They told us everything,” Michael could barely disguise his pleasure at saying those words, “about their association with Delancre, the facility in Colombia – absolutely no holds barred.”
“I can’t believe it’s all happened so quickly,” said Kate in surprise, exchanging glances with her husband. “We thought it would take at least a few days to extract the information needed."
“Ordinarily it would have,” said Christian, taking a sip from his cup of tea. “But we had one of our top interrogators suddenly become available. It was quite a sight I am told, worked all through the night like a man possessed, broke through every psychic resistance in record time. Spectacular.”
“That IS impressive,” said Kate raising her cup to her lips. “You’ll have to remind me to thank your operative. Who was it, by the way?”
“Lord Spencer of all people,” replied Christian swiftly.
Kate nearly choked on her tea at mention of Byron’s name, and Galen had to quickly take hold of her cup before she dropped it as she coughed vigorously in an attempt to clear her airways.
“Are you okay, honey?” Galen asked in concern, patting her gently on the back to help ease her coughing fit. He also was quite surprised by the mention of Byron’s name; the man swaggered around like such an arrogant fop he hardly seemed capable of the kind of masterful achievements Christian had described.
“Byron Spencer?” said Kate incredulously as she regained her composure.
“He was particularly through,” explained Christian. “He took care of matters personally as soon as he found out about the incident, wouldn’t hear any argument to the contrary. He was quite adamant about that.”
“But to return to more important matters,” interrupted Michael quickly, “We have phone logs that confirm Hammond made a call to Los Angeles in the early hours of the 21st, just a few days after your arrival. We’re still working on pinpointing the exact destination but it wouldn’t surprise me at all if it led directly to the First Elder himself.”
“On its own this information wouldn’t be particularly useful,” said Hestia thoughtfully after replacing her empty teacup on the tray. “But alongside the reports that you’ve brought us and the documentation in Mr Han’s journal, we believe we have sufficient evidence for a case to bring before the Watchers’ Council.”
“You mean…” Kate could almost hear her blood pounding in her ears like a slack drum. This was the break she had been waiting for, it was just a shame it had almost taken her death to secure it. “…You’re going to back me up? You’ll take the evidence to the Council?”
“In light of recent events,” smiled Hestia sagely, “we are willing to renegotiate our initial offer of assistance. I’ve already spoken with an advocate from the WC; they were more than a little… concerned. They’ve arranged an assembly for-”
“Tomorrow…” said Kate suddenly; frowning as Byron’s parting words suddenly came to mind. Good luck tomorrow, you’re going to need it… His meaning suddenly became clear, he’d known beforehand about Delancre and the assembly with the Council. He’d known about it all because he was the one who’d extracted a confession from the First Elder’s assassins.
“Yes… tomorrow,” said Hestia with a curious frown. “We’ll make our way to London this evening. I hope you are both well enough to join us, your personal evidence will be of particular significance.”
“You can count on us,” said Galen, taking Kate’s hand as she nodded in agreement.
“Wonderful,” smiled Hestia, raising her cup to her lips and taking a long sip. “In that case, we may as well adjourn for the time being. We’ll be leaving at ten-thirty tonight. I’ll send someone along to collect your luggage, in the meantime you might want to get a little more rest. Tomorrow will be quite trying no doubt, and we’ll all need to be on top form for what lies ahead.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, May 23rd
12:35 pm
Pirosmani Restaurant
Oz parked his Carmen Ghia and entered 'Pirosmani'. The air was thick with blue cigarette smoke despite the smoking ban in LA bars and restaurants. *Definitely the Russian mob, the Italians would never be so brazen,* passed through Oz's thoughts.
He glanced around the bar and cosy dining area looking for Alessa, whom he imagined would stick out like a sore thumb. Instead, he saw another familiar face - Nikolai. Oz was about to walk over and ask him if he had seen Alessa when an unforgettable woman with a stunning red dress said, "Oz?"
Oz looked at her and had to widen his eyes in appreciation; she was tall and leggy with a curve-hugging dress that complimented both her shapely hips and her gravity-defying breasts. The broad expanse of bare tanned skin down her back was set off nicely by the long smooth curls of her dark hair.
Despite himself Oz stammered, "H-Hello. H-have have we met?"
Alessa smiled, albeit a little worried - if Oz was at the restaurant it must be for some serious reason. She took a quick glance at the people inside the restaurant, but nobody was looking at her. They didn’t dare, probably, after her talking in good terms with Nikolai there.
"Yes, Oz, it's me. Alessa," she whispered, and then in a less subdued voice she added, "How are you, cutie?"
It took him a few beats to realize what was happening. "F-fine, Al...aine," he shrugged helplessly at his transparent cover-up.
"Look, I have a message from Mike. I have it here if we can't talk." He pressed his carefully written note into her hand, "But I am worried about you, and would like to talk some and make sure you are okay. It has been days since anyone has heard from you."
Alessa looked around once more, and noticed Nikolai staring at them. He had obviously recognized Oz, but she didn’t want anybody else to connect this form to Oz and therefore to herself. She gave a slight nod to Nik and turned to Oz again.
"Sure, let's talk, but not here, ok?" She had spotted an Italian cafeteria on her way to the restaurant. "There's a cafeteria at the corner, let's go there."
Oz nodded quickly and the two of them hustled down the street in tense silence until they could duck into the small eatery. Alessa was clearly overdressed for the place, but Oz didn't care. Even if someone did say that they had seen him with her, this current form wasn't likely to be seen again. Another LA mystery woman.
Oz kept his voice low. "People are worried about you, Alessa. This seems dangerous and foolish. How much longer will you have to maintain this cover?"
Alessa sighed and stretched in the small iron chair. "For as long as it is necessary, Oz. And it may be dangerous, but I'm trying not to be foolish." She ran her hand through her curls and rested her head on it. Suddenly she felt very tired. "I'm ok, Oz. I thank you for worrying, but I'm really ok."
Oz concentrated on the business he had to do since Alessa was obviously tired. "Mike said he got a call from a friend of yours. He didn't give me many details except to say that you needed to call him as soon as possible. I can only surmise he meant quietly. It has to do with Colombia."
Oz imagined the strain of maintaining the charade was what was weighing her down, but he did not press her on it. "Be careful, Alessa. You know you can always call on me to help."
She smiled warmly at him, and extended her arm to squeeze his hand over the table. "Thank you, Oz. I know." Then she frowned, when what he had said finally reached her mind. "A friend of mine? From Colombia?"
Oz simply nodded to the note he had given her earlier and that she still had clasped in her left hand. Alessa scanned its contents quickly, frowning. "Pelor?" she said to herself, trying to put a face to the name, then she remembered the Brashak she had met when travelling with Morris just too long ago. "What could he need?" She reached for her cell phone and then remembered that Inés had it, and besides she couldn’t risk using it on this call. "Do you have a phone, Oz?"
Oz handed her his flip-phone. "Mike is on auto-8."
Without a word, Alessa took Oz's phone and called Mike, fortunately reaching him right away. They talked in subdued tones for a few minutes, before Alessa chewed her lip, deep in thought. She was surprised to learn that this 'Pelor' had had anything to do with her escape from Isla Nublada, but since she didn’t remember anything it could as well be. But it could be a trap too. Delancre knew a lot about her previous life - he could have learnt about this and be using it to get her… Well, in any case they had to take the chance. If what the demon said was true he could have very valuable information, and besides she wouldn’t turn her back on him; but of course she couldn’t go fetch Pelor herself. She looked at Oz who was intently listening to her side of the conversation, an idea forming in her mind.
"Mike, I'll call you back in fifteen, ok?" she listened a couple of seconds more, "Sure, just wait for my call." Alessa closed the phone and looked at Oz again.
"Did you get what this was about?" she asked him. Oz had repeatedly offered his help and this was a good moment to take the offer. "We need somebody to go fetch this demon from Mexico…"
"Alessa, I have no idea what this is about, but I can tell it is important. Going to Mexico could be a problem, however. I will need to make a few calls. But I can let you know soon. Probably."
Oz had an idea for getting into Mexico but it would better for Alessa if she wasn't involved. *Unless she is already involved with the Russians,* Oz fretted, remembering where he had met her this afternoon.
"Of course, Oz. I'm sorry. I didn’t want to trouble you, why with the problems with Ellis and all… I'll think of somebody else." She looked around, again thinking about the problem, maybe Mike could have somebody he trusted go to Mexico now that he had confirmed Pelor's identity with her, or maybe she could ask Nikolai… "I could talk to Nikolai…"
"Wait, Alessa," Oz placed his hand on hers, "I meant that I am not allowed to leave the county as Oz DeAngelo. If I am seen crossing the Mexico border I could be put back in jail."
He paused for a second, in some ways it was easier to reveal he was an angel than to tell someone the truth of his identities.
"Oz DeAngelo is an alias, however." He let her sit there with a stunned expression for a moment while he let that sink in. "My first mortal name was Frank Hargrave. That was the name I married my beloved Margaret with. I operated a small garage in Reseda where I did auto repair. One of my clients was a man named Dmitri. Dmitri was an operative for the Russian mob. Over the years he and I built several different aliases that I used to acquire parts, cars, and dispose of 'problem' vehicles.
“When I needed a new life after Margaret died I went to him, buried Frank Hargrave and arose as Oz DeAngelo. So, I could go back to him and use a different name to cross the border. But I have to call him first. It has been several years since I dealt with them and, at the time, I implied I would never go back. Dmitri has moved on I am sure, and it will be a new beginning for me with them.
Oz breathed a sigh as he finished. It felt cleansing somehow to tell her, but he wondered how this latest deception would sit with her. He searched her foreign face for clues.
Alessa laughed, noticing the worry in his face. "Did I ever tell you my age, Oz? I'm almost ninety years old. While you changed names and stayed in one place I kept my name and moved around the world. Not so different, is it?" She waved with her hands. "There must be an Alessandra Hunt in half a dozen countries' birth certificates by now, courtesy of Longwood Inc, mostly in South America but also in England and India. I moved around a lot."
*Ninety years old!* Oz smiled. "I used June 9, 1927 as my birth date for Frank Hargrave. In a few weeks I will be eighty years old. You and I are closer in age than you might think."
Oz lowered his voice again, remembering the place and situation again. "What I am saying, Alessa, is that I might be able to go if I can get a passport under another name."
She nodded. "At least as human yes, but I guess you are much older, aren’t you? As an angel?"
Alessa frowned, her thoughts on their problem again. "About those papers, I think I can help you there. Dmitri is the name of Nikolai's boss. How many Dmitris could there be in the Russian mob anyway? I'm sure you could contact him again through Nikolai."
Then she went suddenly serious. "But you'd have to deal with the Russians again, and if you said you wouldn’t go back… I don’t want to put you in that compromise, Oz. I know how hard it is to leave that kind of life behind." She thought of Nikolai's struggles and grimaced. "I really could find another way."
Oz waved off her concerns, "Don't. I can take care of those guys. We had a long-standing arrangement and the more you do that is off your 'mission' the more risk you put on yourself. I can get this guy as long as I know what I have to do."
"Well, he's staying at Sonoita, on the Arizona border, and he needs help to get into the States. He's a Brashak, you know? Blue fur and all." Alessa frowned, thinking of Mike's promise of using some past tidbit as 'password'. "You'll need some information so he can trust you…"
Alessa tried to remember what she knew of this Pelor, then she slowly smiled. "He had a younger sister, Ellia. When Morris and I visited his home in Nepal the little thing took a liking to me and she followed me around all the time." She smiled at the memory of the little blue creature. "She was a sweet thing. I guess you could mention that to him."
"Ellia his little sister. Got it. And blue fur? Brashak? Blue fur all over, right? I'm not as familiar with the 'terrestrial' demons since I didn't have to deal with them much. Over the Arizona border in Sonoita. I will leave as soon as I can."
Oz looked around the little Italian eatery. He grabbed a napkin and wrote
- Sonoita
- Brashak (blue fur)
- Ellia (little sister)
He hoped that would do. He was nervous and feeling as if he had bitten off more than he could chew, but he was determined to accomplish his mission for Alessa's sake.Alessa noticed Oz's nervousness and she reached for his hand. She was serious when she spoke. "Thank you, Oz. I really appreciate this, you are a buen amigo."
She chewed her lower lip and smiled tightly, she just hoped she wasn’t putting him in risk with this. "Please, if you see anything suspicious or if your 'spider sense' beeps, just turn around and come back. I don’t want anything happening to you."
*Spider sense?* Oz gave her a cockeyed look then chuckled, "I'll be fine, the risks to me are minimal. The worst that could happen is that I get picked up by INS and sent back to jail. Inconvenient but not fatal." Oz stood to leave. "Pelor is the one taking the highest risk. But he must have something important to tell you or he would not be risking his neck like this."
She nodded and stood as well, giving him a quick hug. "Good luck," she said simply.
[/]Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, 23rd May 2007 – 1:30pm
A white halter neck top set off Tash’s dark skin and caused one or two heads to turn as she strode gracefully through the foyer of the Peninsula Beverly Hills Hotel. She rose in the elevator, the calm confidence of her exterior belying the hint of excitement that thrummed through her body at the thought of this upcoming meeting.
Ever since she’d had lunch with Onyx a week and a half ago, Tash’s spare time had been taken up with thinking about the demon and wondering when she could visit again. As they’d finished lunch that day she had felt a slight shivery chill, and had since decided it was due to the disappointment she felt at having to part company. Her earlier hesitation now seemed ludicrous. What did she have to fear from forming a bond with Onyx, after all?
The two days between that lunch and her meeting with Marcus on the 16th had been beset by thoughts of the demon, and she’d found excuses to visit a couple of times since then. Now it was time for her next scheduled appointment with Marcus and Tash looked forward to the few moments at the beginning and the end of her time with the necromancer, when she could share a smile with Onyx, and perhaps a few words. For some reason, she never felt more comfortable than when in Onyx’s presence.
The lift doors opened with their familiar ‘ping’ and Tash was soon knocking upon Onyx’s door, to check in for her meeting with Marcus.
“Hello Tash.” Onyx greeted her guest with a smile and took a second to appreciate her clothes; the effect was quite breathtaking and a far cry from that first lunch. “You’re here to see Marcus?”
Onyx continued on after Tash’s nod. “He’s going to be a few minutes. Can I get you a drink while you wait?”
Tash’s answering smile was broad and spontaneous. “Thanks, that’d be great.”
Tash entered the room, letting the door swing closed behind her. She followed Onyx into the living room of her suite and settled on the sofa, crossing her long legs and leaning back. The day’s tensions were already beginning to seep away, just from watching Onyx’s lithe form move about preparing drinks.
“So, do you have any idea what he’s got for me today?” The first day had been harder than the second, but even the second meeting with Marcus had pushed the limits of Tash’s knowledge. The sessions were gruelling, but at the same time they opened up new vistas for Tash – areas she hadn’t even considered delving into until pressed.
“Hmmm? I’m not sure…” Onyx finished making the drinks before handing one to Tash and relaxing onto the sofa next to her. She sipped her drink in obvious thought for a couple of minutes.
“Well, I think he’s finished with all the classics. He said something about the Divide itself, but beyond that I can’t really say. I think he wants to surprise you.”
Tash chuckled lightly. “He’s been doing that every time so far, so why should today be any different?”
She ran her tongue around the salt-rimmed glass and sipped the drink, letting the fiery tequila and cool lime mix in her mouth with the salt before swallowing. Peering at Onyx over the top of her glass she couldn’t help but notice the soft lustre to her alabaster skin. Tash settled herself a little more comfortably and sighed.
“How long do you think he’ll be? I mean… you’ve heard a lot about me but I’ve only heard snippets of your life with the Daltons. I must say, it sounds fascinating. I don’t suppose you’ve got time to tell me any more stories?”
“He shouldn’t be too long, he’s just interviewing security firms for the new building. They’ve been at it most of the morning but he knew you were coming so he cleared the afternoon. To be honest, I was expecting them to be finished by now. As for me-”
There was a buzz from the intercom by the door and both women heard voices in the hallway outside. “Well, speak of the devil…” Onyx looked at Tash’s half empty glass. “You’ve time to finish that,” she said with a smile. “He’ll need a few minutes to settle down.”
“And then it’s nose to the grindstone for me. But I don’t mind. I like to pay my dues and besides, I’m finding these sessions with Marcus helpful. I just wish I could spend more time with…” Tash swirled her drink around a little and took another swallow. “Well,” she said more brightly, “maybe we can meet up some other time and you can tell me all about yourself.”
Onyx let her fingertips brush across the bare skin of Tash’s shoulder. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”
Her eyes shining, Tash stood and rested the empty glass on the coffee table. “Good.” She smiled shyly, “I’d like that too. But… I’d better go see Marcus now.”
A little reluctantly, Tash walked towards the door. She could feel Onyx’s gaze on her as she moved and it made her feel a little self-conscious – but it also gave her a tingle. Why she’d even entertained the thought of telling Onyx she wasn’t interested was beyond her comprehension now. *I must have been having a bad PMS day that day.*
When they reached the door, she was sure Onyx deliberately brushed past her to open it for her, and Tash thanked her with a dazzling smile before turning to face Marcus with an expression far more appropriately business-like.
“Good afternoon, Marcus.”
“Hello, Tash. I haven’t kept you waiting too long I hope?” Marcus didn’t wait for an answer, instead turning towards his own suite. They reached his office and Marcus walked over to his drinks cabinet. “I don’t have any tequila I’m afraid. Could I get you something else?”
“Just a coffee would be fine.” Tash had to assume that Onyx had been discussing her drinks preferences with Marcus, since she generally stuck to coffee when working with him.
“Sure.” Marcus headed for the door and the coffee-maker. “The ritual I thought we’d look at is on the table. Feel free to look it over.”
While Marcus dealt with the coffee, Tash pulled a chair up to the table and read through the papers laid out on it. By the time he returned with two steaming cups she had already taken up a pencil and begun making notes on her pad.
She looked up as he settled himself at the table. “This looks… ambitious, to say the least.”
“Yes, well you can blame my great-grandfather for that. Manipulating the Divide was a hobby of his. Of course this particular ritual takes a great deal of power to produce even modest results. There are always ways around that but a more fundamental problem is a lack of control over the result.”
Marcus handed over a steaming cup of coffee. “Black, no sugar. Right?”
Tash inhaled the delicious aroma and smiled. “Perfect,” she said, taking a sip.
For a moment she appreciated the warm trickle running down her throat, the coffee flavour complementing the residue of the margarita, then she turned her attention back to the task as hand. “Right, so what you end up with is essentially a portal through to kuzimu, and anything that comes across will just be running amok. But surely your necromancy – the actual magic that you use – could control the mizuka, the ghosts that come through?”
“Ghosts?”
Marcus looked down at Tash’s notes and then back at his ritual. “Ah right… You’ve misinterpreted this symbol. Normally you’d be correct – ‘spirit of the dead’ – but in this particular conjuration ‘spirit of death’ would be more correct. As in Death – a physical manifestation of the abstract concept.”
“Uh… you mean, the guy with the scythe and the hourglass and all that? There’s no such… is there?” Tash searched through all her memories of Ohenewaa and all her studies. Sure, she’d dealt with death all her life. But with capital D Death? No, there was nothing.
“Nothing quite so anthropomorphic. At least not without more control of the manifestation than I currently have,” Marcus said with a smile.
Going back over the relevant portions of Marcus’ work, Tash whistled through her teeth. “Ibilisi,” she whispered, almost reverently. Looking up at Marcus, she explained.
“The vodoun do have a kind of death personified, but it’s closer to the Western concept of the Devil than Death. I know of rites used to summon Ibilisi and to contain her – but full control? Not so easy. Still, perhaps the rituals I know of that relate to her could be a starting place for,” she waved her hand over the papers, “this.”
“Well I’d really prefer not to have Lucifer turn up in my summoning. But yes, it sounds like a place to start.”
Marcus pulled out the relevant page of his own ritual and placed it before Tash. “This is what my great-grandfather came up with. As you can see it really only prevents the manifestation from attacking the caster, anything else has proven to be impossible.”
Tash nodded and the two of them fell into the easy rapport they had developed over the previous meetings. Ideas were traded back and forth often without much more than a half sentence as each completed the other’s thoughts and slowly they began to draw together a synthesis of their individual knowledge. Paper was scattered over the room as they reworded incantations, changed ritual elements and played with every aspect of the spell. Eventually Marcus sat back and looked over the latest version.
“Well, it works…” Which it did, though the price of controlling the summoning was steep indeed. “It’s not elegant by any measure.” Which was, in Marcus’ opinion, a shame but neither of them could see a way around the need for brute force.
“Maybe we can work on this next week as well. I don’t like some of the consequences either.”
“Well, at least you and I will be okay, right?” Tash remarked flippantly, but she had to agree with Marcus, in part at least. It was a make-shift solution at best and one she wasn’t happy with on a professional level. Personally, though, she didn’t see much of an issue with the ‘consequences’ that had Marcus so worried.
“Well, so long as we keep the ritual energised so it can’t get free, there really shouldn’t be any major consequences. You don’t need magic to keep the control going, and with two of us to maintain the ritual…” The look on Marcus’ face stopped Tash.
“What, you can’t tell me this is just a theoretical exercise. You plan to use this, surely? I’d like to… I mean, it’d be much easier if there were two of us there.”
“I have other means.” Means Kate had given him in fact. Ta Ekteinon Osteon – The Reaching Bone – was created to assist in magics that manipulated the Great Divide. Generally it allowed a necromancer to draw spirits from further away both in time and space but the use Marcus intended to put it to was just as valid.
“I’m very grateful for your assistance with this,” he gestured around the room at the scattered papers, “but for something as difficult as this I’d prefer not to involve you. Synchronicity in such rituals can take a lot of practise.”
“Of course.” Tash tried not to let her hurt feelings show. She felt that she and Marcus had developed somewhat of a professional rapport, but he was doubtless right – this was a terribly complex ritual and would require the utmost precision and meshing of minds. Such a pity, she would have loved to be there for it.
She was also burning with curiosity about what his ‘other means’ might entail. But she’d learned over the past few weeks that there were many things Marcus Dalton liked to keep to himself, and the extent of his magical resources was one such thing. Still, it could never hurt to ask, right? And at the very least, she knew she had another week before he was ready to perform this summoning.
“Well, so far as I know there aren’t any other practitioners quite like us in this city. So, are you getting someone in from outside, or did you have some other workaround for the second person?”
Marcus remained silent and gave Tash an amused smile. He understood her desire to know but didn’t feel the need to give anything away. “Will you be staying for dinner?”
Knowing from experience that it was pointless to continue asking, Tash sighed and shook her head, partly in frustration and partly in amusement. As for staying for dinner…
“Yes, I think so, if that’s all right. Um… will Onyx be joining us?”
Marcus cocked his head and looked at Tash. His aide had, it seemed, made quite a conquest in Miss Brookes. Well so long as it didn’t interfere in her duties Marcus had no problem with it. “Certainly.”
“Oh, good.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
*** Wednesday, May 23rd, 2007 6pm ***
Guest Starring: Leonardo Cimino as Dmitri
Dmitri Edmundovich Gromyoko looked at the face of the man entering Gromyoko Jewellers on the security monitor. He was surprised that he would have come here. Dmitri had, after all, removed the man’s identity and given him a fresh start only two years ago. But sometimes there were advantages to playing outside the rules. Dmitri knew that well.
Dmitri greeted him warmly in Russian as he opened the door behind the counter of the shop. “Frank, I was certain I would never see you again. I do not know what you have done to look so young. Old horses such as you and me should not look that good.”
Ozimandius DeAngelo returned the greeting in fluent Russian, “Dmitri old friend, I am glad you are here. I was not sure if anyone would remember me. But you, you would never forget your old mechanic would you?’
Oz entered the back room and hugged Dmitri warmly. They had a working relationship that went back thirty-five years. Neither of them had ever abused it and it had been profitable for both of them. They reminisced in Russian about ‘the old days’ and shared a drink.
Dmitri was a busy man however, and as enjoyable as it was, he did not have time to waste on such ‘friends’ all day. “Tell me, my friend, how is it you come to be here in my shop only two years after you wanted to disappear? Did you find some magical fountain of youth, hm? Or is your new life unfulfilling to the point where you have to return to the old life to satisfy something?”
Oz admitted to himself that as nice as it had been to catch up with his old friend he had business to attend to. “Dmitri, you know better than to ask about secrets. But I do need a passport. I need to make a trip out of the country and ‘Oz’ is not allowed to go at the moment.”
Dmitri snorted; he had read the papers. He knew the man, not the image painted by the press. He never questioned his old friend’s innocence, although he wondered about the circumstances that would have brought his quiet, family-loving, decent friend to be in a church where more than one hundred murders had taken place.
“You have the things we need to make the papers, don’t you?” Dmitri asked.
Oz nodded. He had been through this once before. He slid over an envelope with photos and cash. Dmitri reached into the sack and passed back the cash. “This isn’t our business, Frank. It is a sideline we do as we need for our associates. You know this. We gave you a new life as a reward for your service to us for many, many years. Consider this a favor. We will do this for you for free. After all, with today’s computers it is so easy to forge documents that cannot be detected.”
Oz was grateful, he had not cleared this expense with Mike or Alessa, and he was hard pressed to afford it. “Dmitri, I owe you,” Oz said emotionally.
Dmitri waved a dismissing hand. “It is as the wise men say: ‘A favor is owed, friendship can never be repaid’.” Dmitri shook Oz’s hand and pulled him close for a hug. He whispered in his ear, “One day you will, without my asking, repay the favor a dozen times over.”
Oz vowed to himself that he would; Dmitri had been a dear friend to Frank and this latest favor made him even more dear to Oz. A few hours of chatting and walking down memory lane later, Oz had a passport and driver’s license for Donald Chaucer to use as ID when crossing the border.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
*** Thursday, May 24th, 2007 ***
Oz sucked on the 7-Eleven cup of coffee and spit the grounds out of the window. He was well into Arizona now and the noonday sun was high in the sky. He had been running the air conditioner so he had to roll down the window. The hot air streaming past the window was so heated it felt like a hair dryer. Oz quickly rolled the window back up.
He was only a few hours from the border and he rubbed at his eyes. Leaving LA at 4am had seemed a prudent move. It cut down on both the traffic and the likelihood of his being watched. But it had also cut into his sleep. He hoped that the opportunity to get a decent rest would present itself after he contacted Pelor.
Hours later Oz was sitting in a queue of cars at the border. Uniformed Border Patrol guards were searching vehicles routinely at the post. The heat waves rolling off the road and surrounding cars gave the scene a dreamlike quality that made Oz’s eyes droop. A honking behind him woke him.
He had only drifted for a second but in that second he had rescued Pelor and Margaret was giving him a big ‘Thank you’ for his heroics. He longed for that dream as he pulled forward.
The guard stood there with enormous damp patches at his neck and armpits. He directed Oz to exit the vehicle. Oz was searched, his passport checked by bored-looking officers. They inspected his vehicle for anything suspicious. They asked him about his trip: sightseeing and some off-road driving, and the length of his stay: one day possibly two. They sniffed at his destination – Sonoita – as if it wasn’t dignified enough a destination as Tijuana or Mexico City, but they didn’t detain him.
Oz climbed back into his vehicle and pulled towards the nearest McDonald’s on the strip of fast-food and name-brand shops just over the border. He grabbed a bite to eat and another coffee and sat in the air-conditioned dining room and watched as cars streamed past him on the multi-lane highway.
If Pelor had come this far it was no wonder he had called for help to cross the border. It seemed as daunting as a salmon swimming upstream to spawn. *But somehow they manage to do it year after year,* Oz thought. Oz checked the map he had pulled from the tract rack in Customs. Sonoita was only a few miles from the border; it would only take a short while to reach it. Oz figured he could stay awake that long so he dumped his tray and headed back to the truck to complete the first part of his quest.
Oz watched the golden rays of the sun stream through the tinted glass of his windshield. He liked the way it glinted off Margaret’s hair and sent little highlights into the- Thump.
Oz was wide-awake now. He had struck something while he had been daydreaming and he looked in the mirror to see what it was. The lump on the side of the highway was impossible to identify. It could have been any other piece of trash or flotsam on the highway.
Oz backed the truck up the highway and exited the busy road to inspect for damage and to see what he had hit. As he approached the lump it appeared to be a bundle of some sort. Cloth and rags wrapped in a tarp. Laundry perhaps. As Oz got closer he could see it leaking some sort of brownish blue fluid. Oil? Perhaps.
Oz started to reach for it when another car pulled over and rolled down the window. “You okay? Need help?”
Oz smiled, “Nah, I hit something, I think it may be an animal. Car seems fine, I’ll wait here.”
The man waved and pulled back into the traffic.
An animal. Oz worried for a moment, *What sort of person leaves an animal in a sack on the side of the road?* He looked to see if the beast could be saved. As he got closer he could see it wasn’t a tarp, but a cloak of some kind. Oz jogged forward, he began to suspect it wasn’t an animal at all, but a person. Fear at being discovered on the roadside with a body made him sweat and the beginnings of doubt ravaged his mind. He pulled aside the cloak and saw blue fur. Blue Fur.
Oz began to shake and his knees wobbled. Not only had he killed someone - he’d run over Pelor.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
*** Thursday, 24th May – 2:30pm ***
Oz’s heart was beating in his ears.
*Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.*
He could not keep his balance and his knees refused to stay rigid.
*Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.*
Oz collapsed. Horns blared and people slowed down to look at him. A cop pulled over and Oz was cuffed and arrested – again. The tabloid press had a field day with headlines like: “Former Angel slays Demon! – Gets Life!”
Oz could see it all flashing before him. Oz’s face was on the gravel shoulder looking under the hood of the cloak. He could see the yellow eyes were still open and the milky white fluid leaking out of the beak-like face.
Oz blinked. Beak. Yellow eyes. It wasn’t Pelor. It was a demon, however, and he could not afford to be taken in on something this stupid. Oz bounded to his feet and stood a moment in indecision. He could leave it. No he couldn’t. It would make crossing the border difficult as police and scientists descended on the crossing here.
Oz picked up the bundle and tossed it in the back of his truck and casually pulled back into the highway traffic. He took a small road that went off into nowhere and drove for quite a distance until the only things he could see to witness his error were a few lizards and cacti.
Oz dragged the body far enough from the road that he would not be seen pausing to rest against a Yucca tree. Oz ran back to the truck and drove it down the road a ways then off the road and back to the prominent yucca. No point in leaving tracks the short distance to the body.
Oz looked at the thing. It wasn’t pretty – even by demonic standards. It had yellow eyes and a narrow, almost birdlike face with a hard black beak. It had furry tufts in colors ranging from the blue fur that Oz had seen on its shoulders to brownish yellow tufts on its hips.
Oz made a face. Burying this thing was a public service. No one would ever mistake it for an animal or a person. He rummaged through the back of the truck, found a small folding shovel and began to dig.
Two hours later, Oz’s mouth was dry and his shirt was soaked. He broke a branch from the tree, used it to scatter the dirt around and drove the truck back to the road before running back to do the same for the truck tracks. He changed into clean clothes, placing his sweaty ones in a plastic bag.
Oz stopped at a small roadside stand and bought some bottled water and fruit. Sonoita and the end of his quest was ahead. Oz prayed that nobody – and he meant nobody – had seen him bury that body. He knew it would remain buried within him until the end of time.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
*** Thursday, 24th May – 4pm ***
Mate, you’d better stand closer to me. I won’t bite, but that sun’ll kill you - even if you are dead. Who wants to spend the hereafter with sunburn, I ask you. Now this bloke, he’s a loser. He had the hereafter and the Kingdom Come and his reward was sown in the stars.
Then the silly bugger sold it all for a woman. Yeah, I shake my head too sometimes. She was quite a honey his Margaret. But when all is said and done, the sons and daughters of Adam aren’t made of very stern stuff. Not like you and me - mind you, no offence, you being dead and all.
Of course that’s the funny part isn’t it? I mean, mate could you possibly get any unluckier? Run over in the street by a man sent to rescue the very demon you are sent to kill. I know for a fact that irony gains you brownie points in the hereafter and this one is like the Irish Lottery of ironies.
So I was telling you about this loser, Oz, wasn’t I? See he comes down here for love and marries her. They have a son who goes off and dies in some silly war like the one these monkeys have been having for dozens of thousands of years and he gets all choked up. I mean really, my pal Oz there, he started the Thirty Years War for heaven’s sake!
He carried the same message to both the Protestants and the Catholics: ‘You are God’s chosen people.’ Bloody Hell, you never saw such bloodshed. They kept fighting long after they had forgotten why they were fighting. That’s the Germans for you. Did you know he got an award for job efficiency for that one? No? I didn’t think so.
And then one day he gives up the comfortable job of delivering messages from God and …What’s that? Is there of God? Of course there is a bloody God! Who’d you think we work for, then? Oh, I see, just because you are a demon who isn’t allied with Satan makes you think that that all demons are atheists.
I’ll let you in on a secret mate; there aren’t any demons in the Hell I deal with – just Angels. You, I suppose will go on to whatever hereafter your kind believes in. I don’t deal with demonic souls, just human ones. But since I am here, I figured I’d clue you in to how fucked up this whole system is.
See, you can’t change your nature, you can only sort of suspend the identity. The only way to change is to die. Death is a transition to another birth. How long it takes you to die is part of the transformation. Oz here…pay attention, he’s the one burying your body over there…He’s an angel. He doesn’t think he’s an angel, he thinks he’s a human. So people identify him as a human.
He is so convinced he’s a human he thinks he will die in another hundred years or so. He really believes he is aging. It’s a laugh to see him tug at his face and look at imaginary wrinkles sometimes when he… Don’t be cheeky, we don’t age. I look fabulous and you know it. Shut up.
So Oz here is being tested. God says, ‘make him want to be an angel again’ in his ‘oh-I’m-almighty-so-I-speak-like-James-Mason-all-the-time’ voice. And I said, ‘What, by making him a miserable human?’
And God says, ‘I like the sound of that.’ So here I am in the middle of fucking Burundi or wherever the Hell this is and watching Oz bury this carcass…Sorry, recently deceased victim of a tragic accident. Do I look like I know when you can ‘pass over’? You will know, mate. Trust me on that one.
Oh look at this pathetic performance. I mean really. He sweats. He gets thirsty. He drinks his water. He wipes his forehead. It is like a Bergman film. It is so surreal to watch an angel do these human things. Yes, you twit, he’s an angel, haven’t you been listening?
He was made an angel when he was made. That can’t be undone any more than you can be made alive once you have died. No, there isn’t any coming back after you are dead. Oh yes your body can be restored, and your body could be made to breathe again, sure. But ever see how these people live? Mate, I’d rather be dead.
Nobody comes back to a long and happy existence, it just can’t be. If your soul isn’t allowed to pass on it goes rotten inside. It makes your life a horrible meaningless existence that drags on through an endless series of terrors that culminates with you closing your eyes and ending it all either with your own hand or your willing yourself to die.
Wow, Tasil, in’it? You are certainly smarter than I originally thought. It is exactly like my friend Oz over there. So why ruin his life? Mate, God wants him back on the job and if he can’t end this life he can’t go back. What do you mean, ‘What if he doesn’t kill himself?’ If he doesn’t kill himself, mate, then the ranks of the fallen just increased by one.
A Secret Meeting
***Wednesday, 23rd May 2007 – 8:36pm, UK Time
The Watcher’s Council HQ, London, England***
(12:36pm, Los Angeles Time)
Alexander Richmond removed a cigar from his lips and exhaled a cloud of silvery grey smoke into the already stuffy room. Kate had to smile at the artful grace of his gestures, he made smoking a cigar seems as meaningful and sublime as any dance move she had ever seen - either that or her nicotine cravings were starting to kick in again.
“I’m glad we were able to meet like this, though you understand that the nature of this business is particularly sensitive.”
“We understand perfectly,” said William Travers respectfully, a serious expression clouding his features. His task of securing allies within the Council over the past few days had not been an easy one. He had many trusted friends but had not been able to acquire an allegiance with anyone further up the chain of command. Alexander Richmond was the exception to that rule; as head of the Council’s foreign office he had almost unlimited resources at his fingertips, and he had also been a good friend of his father, Quentin Travers. Will knew that if anyone could help them it would be him.
“Mr Richmond, nobody knows the value of discretion more than myself.” Hestia’s tone was both calm and authoritative as she rose to her feet and moved over to where the man stood. “But the two of us have been friends for many years now and you know that I would not have come to the Council on a mere whim. The evidence that we have submitted, the confessions from traitors within our own midst, it is not to be taken lightly. I believe that there is a real need for drastic measures to be put in place, and quickly. Which is why,” Hestia cast a cursory glance at her fellow Elders before continuing, “the other Elders and I have given our consent for a small entourage to accompany Ms. Eldridge and her husband on their return to Los Angeles.”
“I see…”
Richmond sucked on the end of his cigar thoughtfully. He walked the length of the small study where they had all gathered earlier that afternoon. Such a meeting was unprecedented and ordinarily he would not commit himself to an answer without seeking further approval within his particular circle of peers. However, the evidence that Hestia had mentioned was also unprecedented. It was true that rumours about First Elder Delancre had been circulating for months now, but there had never been any kind of proof to back it up... until now.
The final nail in the coffin for himself had been Jimmy Han’s journal. The man had been one of his best agents and a close personal friend of his, he had mourned his death most deeply. “Perhaps… perhaps you are right…” he said contemplatively after a long silence had passed. “I know that Mr Travers and myself have discussed this matter with a few of our colleagues over the past two days and this new information that you’ve presented should be enough to convince-”
Richmond eyed the hopeful glances of the handful of people and in particular the young woman and her husband who had travelled all the way from America to plead their case. “-I’ll do my best, I’m not promising anything. I can’t exactly go to the board of directors with this, but I should be able to secure the aid of maybe… twenty? It might take a while to organise, there are still some Watchers in the field despite the recall. If I can manage to reassign them without anyone becoming too suspicious…”
“That would most appreciated, Alexander,” smiled Hestia gratefully.
“Yes, yes, well I’ll see what I can do…” mumbled the man, taking another puff from his cigar. “This has certainly gone on long enough and we don’t want another repeat of-” Richmond coughed awkwardly in an attempt to cover up his foul.
“None of us want a repeat of what happened with Serapis,” said Michael firmly, his voice steady and confident. “But with your assistance, hopefully we should be able to sidestep that rather nasty pitfall.”
Richmond nodded. “Like I said, this could take a few days to organise. I hope you are able to hold up until that time…” He turned to Kate, smiling a little, “…Ms. Eldridge, Mr Eldridge…”
Kate was about to say something about their having other matters to attend to first but Alexander held his hand up suddenly before she could speak.
“Wait, better yet, don’t tell me… just to be on the safe side. It’s best that I don’t know too much.” Turning back to Will, Alex removed a small card from his pocket. “There is something else…” he looked thoughtful, as though not sure whether to proceed or not. “You’ve heard of the Ghost Squad. On the whole they’re a rather savage but disciplined outfit but I’d advise caution. They’ve been in Los Angeles for a few months now, there’s no telling whether they’re under Delancre’s control or not.”
Will nodded, he’d heard of the Ghost Squad – most of the Watchers had even if they’d never met them. They never called into HQ; in fact, like their name suggested they seemed to subsist on an almost invisible plane of existence.
“If you feel it’s necessary, you’ll need this,” said Alexander, handing Will the small card. “Our contact is squadron leader Douglas Anderson but he goes by the name Monk. Call this number but don’t leave a message. He’ll know where to find you.”
Will took the card and pocketed it carefully with another nod. “You can count on me, Sir,” he said as he shook the man’s hand.
“In the meantime, it would be best to keep this arrangement under our hats, so to speak. I would hate for Delancre to get word of this before I’ve had the opportunity to further petition the board.” Richmond took a final puff from his cigar before stubbing it out in an already full ashtray. “As for the other troops I mentioned… well, I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, good luck… all of you. I think you’re going to need it.”