*** March 1, 2007, around 2 am ***
*** Isla Nublada ***
Daye stood on the deck and gazed down at the dark blue waters below. She listened to the hushed conversation behind her between Inés and her boyfriend, Connor. Further back, near the rear of the boat, the mysterious man who’d contacted them and started them on this road stood, staring into the water as well. Daye wondered again just who exactly Ellis Longwood was, and why he had gotten involved in this. Daye thought about how hectic the last week had been after Inés contacted Alessa’s mind, and Ellis gave them the final link to the Council. That was what had brought them here in the first place, and with any luck this would be the last leg of their long journey.
Daye scanned the island that they were approaching, the boat enshrouded in mists. She shivered, quickly zipping up the light jacket she was wearing. It was cold and wet here on the water, and the island didn’t appear to be any more inviting.
“Alessa, if you’re out there,” Daye whispered into the wind, “just hold on. We’re coming for you.”
Inés was listening distractedly to Connor beside her; she wasn’t really paying attention to him. Her thoughts were recounting all that had happened in the last two days. From the moment Daye, Ellis and her had put two and two together and discovered where Alessa had been taken, everything had happened in a rush. Ellis had almost taken over the whole operation, hiring a plane and then this boat to take them to the island where she was sure Alessa was being held captive. He knew people in Colombia, he had said, and right now he was proving he did.
She leaned on Connor and wondered again at his reasons for helping too, but she was really grateful to him for offering his help as soon as he knew of Alessa’s kidnapping. His temper had clashed several times with Alessa’s friend, Ellis, but he was holding his own, and risking much. A jungle was no place for a vampire if day caught them ashore.
The sight in front of her was strangely familiar, although it felt as if she were seeing it from above, probably from a plane. She knew this image wasn’t hers, it was Alessa’s and it was so full of dread that Inés gritted her teeth. Since the moment she had first got in touch with her cousin the images she received kept becoming more blurry and distressful, a jungle and fear was all she could feel at the moment. The quality of her thoughts was deteriorating in a worrisome pace.
She shivered, not only from the cold, and she was grateful to feel Connor’s strong arm go around her shoulders. She gave another look at the misty island that was slowly getting nearer and nearer. She sighed; she just hoped they got to Alessa in time.
Ellis heard the demoness sigh and frowned. He was worried too. His associates in Colombia had sounded terribly scared at the sole mention of Isla Nublada. That was exactly the kind of stuff that enraged him, peaceful demons being terrified by humans. For some time he had received vague reports of experimentation linked to the Council; many demons had apparently been taken to a research facility of some kind in South America not to be seen again. But he hadn’t been able to discover where the facility was situated nor exactly what kind of ‘things’ were done in it.
However it wasn’t until he had talked to Danny and confirmed that Alessa had been taken by the Council and her cousin had called telling him that she knew Alessa was in Colombia, that he had made the link between Alessa and the research facility. His hand closed in a tight fist at the thought of her in that island.
Daye turned towards the others as the boat bumped against the shore. A small stretch of beach extended out from the edge of the jungle, and that was where their guide had brought them. From what Ellis had said, the man was very nervous about coming to Isla Nublada, but he couldn't resist the ridiculous amount of money Daye had offered.
Whatever had happened to Alessa, she knew that once again the Council was somehow involved and even though it didn't make any logical sense, she felt responsible. She just hoped that Alessa was going to be all right, and that whatever research was going on here was not as horrible as she was beginning to suspect.
“Well, we had better start looking," Daye said to Inés. "If we can find her before the sun comes up, that would probably be for the best. We don't know what kind of monitoring they have set up here. I'd rather get Alessa and just get out.”
“Yes, we'd better,” said Ellis and turned to look at Connor.
The vampire raised an eyebrow but understood the look quite well. This man knew about his nature, and for some reason hadn’t reacted to it. He turned to help Inés out of the boat, but smiled when he saw her jump lithely from the deck. Inés looked at home in this tropical setting.
The demoness walked a few steps towards the jungle and stood motionless for a moment, as if listening, but the rest knew she was trying to catch any hint of Alessa’s scent. She turned to them after a couple of minutes.
“I can't smell her, but Ellis said Alessa would be near a brook or stream, and I can smell water. Let’s follow that trail,” she said and started to walk towards the jungle line, the rest following right behind her.
Ellis nodded. He had received that inside information the night they were leaving for Colombia. He just hoped Alessa hadn’t done something stupid just when they were coming to get her. He turned to signal the guide to wait for them with the boat ready and then walked behind them.
James followed soon after Inés. He was carrying enough ammo to kill a hundred Watchers. He was angered because of what happened to Alessa and besides, he was warming towards Inés and he wanted to help her. It gave him a reason to function. As they got to the jungle, James hung his rifle from his side and took out a big machete to open a way through the thick bush, behind Inés. Somehow the demoness seemed to glide along the greenery, and did not need a path.
"Jungle imp," he said to himself but caught her smiling at him over her shoulder.
"You can’t imagine how much," she said, laughing, and changed before his eyes. The hairy, brown creature was much more secure and able in the tropical jungle.
Daye followed Inés and the others, feeling more than a little apprehensive. This island was shrouded in more than just natural mists. She could feel the prickle of strong magic on her skin, and she detected great suffering. Daye was not as sensitive as Kate, so she knew whatever was happening here was very, very bad. She shivered as they entered the dark, forbidding jungle, concentrating. She might need her magic at a moment's notice, and she wanted to make sure she wasn't slow on the uptake.
Daye walked with Ellis, her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. She desperately wanted to cast a spell to create some light, but knew that would be foolish. Instead, she stayed close to Ellis.
"Sorry if I seem a bit forward," Daye whispered, huddling near him, "but I'm a bit... well, to quote the Americans, freaked out. This place is really creepy."
Ellis turned his eyes from the demoness figure, and smiled at the Watcher.
“No problem,” he said, adjusting his pace to hers. “I agree with you. There’s something evil in this island, even I can feel it.” He looked around, he wasn’t carrying a rifle like Connor, but his gun was secure under his arm, unlocked and ready. “And we should be prepared…” he stopped at Daye’s stare, “for anything that may happen.”
Daye understood. She didn’t say anything more until they came to the river. Inés stopped there and bent low to the ground, apparently trying to scent out Alessa.
The Verbati squatted near a tree with large plank buttress roots. The mattress of dead leaves, insects and dust, so natural to all jungles, was unnaturally matted and trampled, as if somebody or something had slept there and she could smell Alessa’s scent. It was faint, very faint, but it was hers. Inés’ heart skipped a beat; finally, proof of Alessa being in the damn island.
Then she frowned. She sensed another smell as well, some kind of animal, probably a big mammal, mingled with Alessa’s scent. She stood up and moved towards the source of the smell, up in the trees. With a mighty jump she reached the lower branches of the giant tree, clawing her way securely up she got to the core of the tree. There the smell of Alessa was stronger, but so was the smell of the animal. She looked around trying to focus on the smells, her huge paws touching and feeling the tree’s branches, finally finding what she was looking for. In her hand was a tuft of hair, the cinnamon color of Alessa’s Verbati fur.
Inés jumped down then, resuming her human form before touching the ground with the grace of a big cat.
“She was here,” she said. “But so was a big mammal, probably some kind of cat. Follow me,” she said and started to move again.
As she walked she tried to reconstruct Alessa’s steps. Suddenly they walked into a small clearing among the trees. Inés walked surely following her cousin’s scent. A few feet away she found the spotted carcass of a jaguar; she squatted again next to it and touched it with a stick. It wasn’t stiff yet.
She looked up to the others and smiled broadly. “This explains the fight traces I found. She killed it.” Then she looked at the dead cat again. “Bien hecho, chica.”
“And it sm- looks fresh too,” added James, cursing from almost giving himself away; although the man already knew he was a vampire he didn’t want to alert the Watcher about it. “She can't be too far. Let’s go on.”
He watched their surroundings carefully; the full moonlight giving enough light to see around, but not enough to be too clear. The clearing finished a hundred feet away and the thick bush started again. Strange sounds and odors were coming from it.
James remembered his times in the Royal Army. He had been in jungles before, as a soldier, Africa, India… you name it, every major British Colony, and he could move in a jungle too. He looked at the back of Inés, already starting to cross the empty spot, and smiled… Well, not as well as she did, but he could manage himself quite expertly. He gripped the machete again and prepared to continue cutting their path into it.
Inés hurried her step, she felt the scent get stronger and stronger, and they were close. She was nearly running, gliding and moving with expertise through the undergrowth of the jungle. She was talking as she moved.
“She’s hurt, the cat… the cat hurt her. I can smell her blood; it’s a richer trail, her blood.”
Ellis gritted his teeth as he started to follow the pair in front of them, taking Daye’s elbow when the woman staggered with a raised root. More and more worried, as he heard Inés talking absently to herself. He couldn’t imagine the ordeal Alessa had had to go through in this forlorn island, hurt and alone, not knowing if she would ever make it. Wondering if… Chance… would get to her. He cursed, such timing!
They entered the jungle and were enveloped by its green darkness again. The humans could barely see the path Connor was making, but the swoosh of his machete cutting left and right was clear enough to follow.
“Wow!” came Inés’ startled cry from the front and he ran to join the two, almost collapsing into the vampire who extended an arm backwards to stop them. He steadied himself and looked down.
They were standing on a ledge, the trees growing just to the border, its roots protruding from it like dark hands off a tomb. There was a long drop down to yet another ledge and then, far below to a stream that glittered silver in the moonlight. Inés was looking down, her face the picture of dismay.
“She’s down there,” she whispered. “She must have fallen.”
James’ arms enveloped her. “Don’t lose hope, Alessa is a tough woman.” He turned to Daye and Ellis. “Care to do a little alpinism?”
“You go on, we’ll follow. This can't be worse than climbing Mount Blanc,” answered Ellis, eyeing the pronounced drop.
James smirked and started to follow Inés who had already started to half slide, half jump down the slope, using rocks and roots as help. When they finally got to the bottom, Inés looked around again and a small cry she run towards a dark figure crumpled on the ground. It was Alessa.
The demoness was in her natural form, and looked battered, but they couldn’t see how much until they got to her. Her cinnamon fur was tangled and dirty, dried blood matted the fur of her left leg and Daye saw with horror that it was terribly jagged, as if she had been bitten by a huge sharp-toothed mouth. She also bore several cuts and bites, probably the result of her fight with the big cat.
“Oh, Alessa, ¿qué te pasó prima? What happened to you?” whispered Inés, kneeling beside her and taking the demoness’ head gently in her hands. Inés felt her eyes fill with tears watching the sorrowful state of her cousin. She looked up to see Daye in a state of distress similar to her own. The Watcher was on her knees too, and was moving her hands over Alessa’s body, a look of concentration in her face.
“She’s alive,” she finally said, “Barely. I can help her, heal her, but not here. I don’t dare to do magic here.” Daye looked around, as if expecting fiends to materialize around them any minute. She was sure there were magical wards on the island; any magic she could perform would be surely spotted.
“Let’s go. The sooner we get her to the boat the sooner you can start the mending magic,” said Ellis, then he looked down at Alessa again, doubt in his eyes. The demoness looked too heavy to carry easily, they should try to make some kind of… he was surprised when Inés, changing again into her Verbati form, lifted the big creature with ease. He grinned. *Never underestimate a good demon.*
The party slowly climbed up the ledge again, but once they did the rest of the way was uneventful and easier than before. Following Inés’ sense of direction they moved steadily towards the shore where the boat was waiting for them. A couple of hours later they were sailing off the shore and leaving Isla Nublada behind; starkly delineated against the full-moon sky.
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Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Thursday 24th May 2007 – 6:50pm
Sonoita, Mexico
Oz glanced at his hastily scribbled napkin. He looked around the tourist laden strip feeling as if he was totally out of place. *Imagine you area blue-furred demon. Where would you hide?*
“Anywhere but here,” Oz muttered.
Oz checked the signal on his cell phone and was relieved to see a strong signal even on this side of the border. *Well I’m not that far from civilisation,* he thought. Spotting a café near a big hotel that had a shady side garden with a table he approached the host and asked to be seated in the shade.
The waiter, surprised to hear his native language spoken fluently by a gringo was flattered enough that he graciously complied. Soon Oz was waiting with water and a nice view from a discreet location protected from the late-afternoon sun.
Oz set his phone on the table and resisted the urge to call Mike again and run through the same questions he had been asking all along. “Where do we meet?” and “What can you tell me?” - both of which had unsatisfactory answers: “I don’t know.”
Oz ordered some wine to go with his bottled water. A bowl of chips and salsa had appeared on the tile-topped table while he had been thinking. Oz munched on them thoughtfully while scanning the crowd. *How long? Every second I have to wait, Alessa and the others are in more danger.*
“What are you going to do about it?” a voice said.
“Huh?” Oz blinked at the waiter.
He repeated, “What would you like us to serve, señor?”
Oz waved him away, “I’m fine. Thanks. Just keep the water coming, that’s all.”
Pelor shuffled disconsolately along a street filled with tourists who were stopping for a bite to eat on their way south to the more picturesque parts of Mexico. More than at any other part of his journey he felt distinctly out of place, and he ducked his head deeper into the hood of his cloak after glancing nervously at the rapidly lowering sun.
Mike Coulter had said someone would reach him within a day. That had been yesterday morning. Now the sun was about to set once more and he was no closer to finding his saviour than he had been while he was staring at the impenetrable wall of the Mexican border. Each American face he passed received his hopeful scrutiny, but none had seemed like they were looking for anyone, least of all a scruffy beggar.
He went by yet another of the innumerable cafés that lined this strip and the smells wafting from its kitchen drove him to distraction. In desperation, he tried once more to rummage through the bins that graced the pavement, hoping for some discarded scraps. As at other times during the day, as soon as he began to peer inside the receptacle a waiter rushed out of the café, yelling.
“Be off with you! Go on, get away! You stinking vermin – go ruin somebody else’s business.”
A well-aimed kick followed the invective and Pelor backed away, cringing both from the blow and from the curious eyes that peered at him in a mixture of scorn and pity. He much preferred to scavenge in the shanty town where nobody objected to his search for scraps of food, except perhaps competing beggars. Scurrying across the street, he continued his fruitless search for both sustenance and his particular American until the sun’s rays turned golden-red.
Despairing of ever finding his contact – if indeed someone had even managed to reach the town yet – Pelor stopped and huddled in a doorway. Drawing his cloak around himself, he tried to ignore the hunger that gnawed at his innards and concentrated instead on watching for anyone who might be the one he was to meet. He had come so far – he couldn’t fail now. Not when he was so close to his goal.
Oz felt guilty at his relative comfort as he watched the parade of touristas take photos and smile gleefully while walking past the wretched begger that clutched the filthy dark cloak around itself. It glanced into piles of trash in front of restaurants obviously desperate for anything that might resemble a meal. Oz glanced at his chips and salsa - most likely to be discarded as trash even though it was still fit for consumption. He picked up the basket and bowl. Mike wouldn’t begrudge him the cost to replace these trifles.
Walking across the street he approached the begger. One of the locals grabbed his arm and tried to dissuade him, “Don’t go over there, mister. It will be trouble. You don’t know what he will do, what trouble he will cause for you. Leave him alone, mister, he is nothing but trouble.”
Oz pulled his arm free of the well-meaning man. Oz looked at the man and used his best word-of-the-Lord on him: “On the last day, Jesus will say to those on His right hand, ‘Come, enter the Kingdom. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was sick and you visited me.’ Then Jesus will turn to those on His left hand and say, ‘Depart from me because I was hungry and you did not feed me, I was thirsty and you did not give me to drink, I was sick and you did not visit me.’ These will ask Him, ‘When did we see You hungry, or thirsty or sick and did not come to Your help?’ And Jesus will answer them, ‘Whatever you neglected to do unto one of these least of these, you neglected to do unto Me!’”
Pelor watched the exchange with some suspicion. The aroma of fresh salsa wafted to him on the evening breeze and his empty belly betrayed him by rumbling, and his dry mouth watered. But more than anything else Pelor was afraid that his escape would be detected and Delancre would send someone to waylay him. What better way to entice an animal into a cage than with the promise of food?
Then he heard the man quoting scripture and he rolled his eyes. *Oh, one of those crazy Americans.* He remained perfectly still as the man approached with an open, friendly smile, and resolved to take his food, thank him politely, and get the hell out of there.
“Go on, take it,” Oz said reassuringly – first in Spanish then in English. The beggar snatched at the food and backed away slowly and with a lot of suspicion of this gracious gift. Oz was about to walk away with a clean conscience when a tickle on his hand made him look. A few hairs had come from the man or his cloak and were resting on Oz’s wrist. Blue hairs.
“Pelor? Alessa sent me,” Oz said clearly and evenly with his back to the beggar. No need to startle him by whirling around suddenly and blurting out his reason for coming. And if worst came to worst then the beggar would just bolt if it made him too uncomfortable. Oz stood and held his breath waiting.
With chips in his mouth and salsa dribbling slowly down his chin, Pelor paused, a fresh handful of chips half-way to his open jaws. His eyes darted nervously to either side before resting on the man, who still stood with his back to him.
“Whmph?”
Oz turned around slowly and smiled into the azure eyes of the beggar, almost completely obscured by the hood on his cloak. “I’ve come here to get you to LA. Come over here to my table and we can talk. It’s clear and you won’t be cornered if that helps.”
Oz didn’t want to touch the filthy being whose smells – that were very apparent now that Oz was focused on him – were really quite offensive. But he would if it came to that. Overall, he figured, it would be better if Pelor followed on his own. “Come on,” Oz said as if calling a stray animal, “I won’t hurt you. I’m right over here.”
Oz felt ridiculous. The man he had quoted scripture to was about to have a fit and he could see the waiter was moving people away from Oz’s table rather than try to dissuade him of his madness. The other side of the street had never seemed so far away.
Cramming the last of the salsa-covered chips into his mouth and munching steadily, Pelor watched the man as he slowly crossed the street and turned again to beckon to him. He was deathly afraid of being captured, but the man had said he was here to take him to LA, and to Alessa… but then, someone sent by Delancre may well say the same sort of thing. Mr Coulter had said that the contact would tell him something only Alessa would know, and this man hadn’t said any such thing.
Still… it couldn’t hurt to sit with him at the table, Pelor thought as his feet carried him across the busy street and right up to the entrance to the garden eatery. If the man turned out not to be genuine, there was indeed plenty of open space into which he could escape if necessary. And if the man was genuine, then his journey to see Alessa was within arm’s reach.
Gingerly he sidled up to the table and pulled out a chair. He sat with his spine straight, though he kept the cloak wrapped tightly around his body and the hood low over his face to hide his complexion. He faced the man who claimed to be his passport out of Mexico, and spoke in a low voice.
“Please forgive my appearance – it’s been a hard journey. Tell me, who sent you? How did you come to be here?”
Oz raised an eyebrow at the cultured, educated tone that Pelor presented. It was such a contrast from the cowering beast he had seen in the street. He snapped out of his fascination. “Mike Coulter and Alessa asked me to come and get you. She said to remind you of your little sister Ellia and how she had followed her around.” Oz waved to the waiter who approached as close as he could tolerate and waited while Oz turned back to Pelor.
“Order something to eat – anything you want since Longwood is paying for it. Drink some water. You look like you’ve had a tough time and we still have some planning to do. You might as well get something in you while we are doing it.”
Relief made Pelor sag a little in his seat. He well remembered the way his sister had dogged Alessa’s footsteps, but Alessa had never seemed to tire of the attention. Well, almost never, he recalled with a quiet chuckle. And it had been that self-same memory that Alessa had used to break him free of the hold Delancre had on his mind. Everything else tallied, too. Mr Coulter, Longwood Inc. – if this was a trap then it was a very good one.
“Thank you, I’d love to order something. I left in a hurry and had no money, so I’ve only been able to eat whatever I could find.” Pelor glanced up at the darkening twilight. “I’d like to get to LA as soon as possible, though. I’ve been travelling such a long time, and I just want it over with. So I guess we should leave once we’ve eaten, Mr...?”
“…DeAngelo. But call me Oz, if you would. I am afraid I came on very little notice and with very little preparation. I have a rough idea for getting you into LA but we need to discuss it first. We need to trust each other to pull it off.” Oz felt the edges of his exhaustion fraying his perceptions, “And I think both of us could use a bath and a decent sleep before we start.”
Pelor opened his mouth to protest. Having lived with the uncertainty of whether he’d find his contact for the past day and a half, now that Oz was here he wanted simply to leave as soon as they could. But the idea of a bath – and a real bed – was tempting, to say the least. And of course, Oz must have driven for many hours today and was doubtless tired. It would be ironic, Pelor thought, if he managed to get onto the last leg of his journey and then die in a car crash.
“All right, Mr… Oz,” he said at last. “Dinner, a bath, and a night’s sleep.” He grinned. “Sounds like heaven to me right now. But we must go at first light.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, May 23rd, 2007 – 17:07
The Armoury
It was late afternoon when Reah was finally able to begin her close for the night. The day had been long and arduous, not too different from any other of late. The days and weeks all just seemed to spread out, now; melting together like cookie dough set too close together and merging into one gigantic cookie rather than a dozen separate little ones to be enjoyed or rejected for their own individual taste. Training new staff hadn’t made it any easier either. How do you find a suitable employee for a place that tends to demons?
Yatz - or Yatzee as Reah had come to call him - the latest addition to the Armoury’s ‘happy, close-knit family’, had just finished his shift only half an hour ago. And Reah would have to be lying if she said he wasn’t in the least bit strange, even for a demon. Flaming hoppy toads shot out of his lower spine, for crying out loud! And yes, it was his lower spine - this was a point he seemed intent on making clear to her upon hiring. To make matters even better, they on occasion just shot out before he even had the chance to stop them! Fortunately this didn’t happen often, and fortunately he was exceptionally good with computers, too.
Was this really how desperate her life was becoming?
Before she even had a chance to dwell on her new staff any more, Reah’s subconscious was alerted by the dreaded bell atop the street entrance door. Without raising her head from the open till or showing any sign of acknowledgement, Reah recognised the customer via security cameras as Quin’s singing friend that had visited a while back once with homework.
*Oh yay! What a fantastic way to round of my otherwise craptacular day!* Maybe if she ignored the girl, she’d go away.
“Hey, um, ’scuse me?”
*Crap it!* “Hi!” Reah’s cheap smile was plainly forced as she whipped her head up to greet the girl. *Perfect! Can’t remember her name, either.* “Can I help you at all?”
The girl smiled broadly in return. That was something about the girl Reah definitely hadn’t forgotten: her incorrigible cheerfulness. “You’re Quin’s cousin, right?”
“I know who I am. What’s your point...” *Charity!* “Charity?”
“Chastity.”
“Same diff.” Reah shrugged off the girl’s amusement.
“You seem to have a lot of trouble rememberin’ names, don’t ya?” Chastity started bubbling off on an entirely different topic that Reah was pretty certain not be the point of this visit. The girl was always too smirky and smug for her liking at the worst of times… Which was all the time.
“No more than the next person,” Reah bluntly replied. “You seem have a lot of trouble with your A.D.D. and getting to the point, don’t you?”
The girl snickered. Snickered! Was it even humanly possible to insult the thing!?
Chastity’s laughter slowly trickled off while her eyes continued to sparkle with delight, yet they were also sharp and focused as they rested on Reah, just short of unsettling. “My god! You are just the easiest person to bait. It’s so fun.”
“I’m sure it is.” Reah rolled her eyes back up into her head and returned to her former task of balancing the till, mentally willing the girl to grow up, get to the point, or get out.
Thankfully, Chastity - as well as having an uncanny knack for pissing Reah off - seemed to have a knack for knowing when to lay off, too. Which was lucky considering Reah was about a hair’s breadth away from tossing the girl out and barring her from the store forever.
“Is Quin, like, sick or something? She hasn’t been turning up to any of her singing practises at school.” Chastity was frowning to herself - a look that seemed unnatural for a generally cheery personality. Apparently this wasn’t like Quin at all! Reah couldn’t help but scoff at that. “Skipping school I can understand, but she hasn’t even been turning up to our one on ones at me Nan’s house!” When she’d finally finished her little expression of concern and saw the undeniable lack of what she may have expected from Reah, Chastity turned her attention off-side to the rack of holster belts before shrugging back at Reah with something of a ‘oh well’ half smile.
When it gradually became apparent from the way Chastity continued to remain on her little spot, unmoving, airily inspecting the arsenal about her, that Reah was supposed to be replying in some shape or form, she finally looked up from her task and took a deep breath, opened her mouth and...
“Thanks! Have fun. I’ll probs catch you around when I fail to avoid you.”
Chastity blinked. A nerve was hit! But it didn’t appear to be one of hurt. *Bloody hell.*
“God, don’t you even care? She’s, like, your cous’ for fuck’s sake!”
“Not ‘like’, she is,” Reah reflexively corrected her annoying habit. She wasn’t much in the mood for a lecture, let alone one from some know-it-all teenager. “And of course I care.”
Chastity sniffed, her tone all smooth and submissive again. “Could’ve fooled me, woman.”
*Woman? Where does this kid get off?* Thankfully Reah was too tired to get too worked up at the moment. “Listen, kid…”
“Is she even at home? Do you, like, even know where she is?”
“Do you, like, shut up! What is this? The fucken Spanish Inquisition!” Unbelievable! “No, she is not at home, she ran out on me. And I don’t know where she is because she clearly doesn’t want me around and I’m not one to suffocate her when she wants her friggen space.”
“Oh, but beating on her wasn’t invading her space at all?”
“WHAT THE FUCK!” Oh, this really, really wasn’t what she needed. Ever! “Fucken hell, what gives? You’re bloody seventeen! You know shit all about the world, let alone mine, so just shut the hell up and stop thinking you know anything, cos ya don’t!”
Chastity raised her eyebrows, and of all things, still had a smile on her face - if somewhat condescending. “So, just cos I’m only seventeen, I don’t know anything?”
“Uch, crickey, let’s not-” Reah moaned, but Chastity continued uncaringly.
“Two plus two is four. I know that!”
Reah exhaled and stared flatly at the girl who was apparently also a smart-ass on top of plain annoying.
“And I also know the world isn’t all, you know, black and white!” Chastity stated matter-of-factly. “Which is how you like to see it.”
“Oh my god!” Reah’s hand slapped down on the bench weakly. “I am one of the most open-minded people there i-”
“Just not when it comes to issues ya’d like to avoid, hey?”
Reah dropped her eyes onto Chastity’s own burnishing orbs that seemed to sparkle with delight, even now. The stupid girl still thought she was right just because she got a little philosophical and kept cutting Reah off. She so wasn’t. Far from it. How could she even be close? She was barely over puberty, and that’s if she was at all.
She so couldn’t be right, but…
“Uch… look, if you’re going to go all ‘insightful’ on me, can we at least go to a bar so I can slowly inebriate myself at the same time?”
Chastity blinked - and mentally, Reah did a small victory dance as she managed yet another frown from the girl - but slowly a confused smile returned to her face as she near snorted. “Dude, I’m, like, only seventeen. Ringin’ any bells here?”
Reah shrugged, her upper lip crooked slightly to express the negative sum of her concern. “What’s your point?”
“Nothing!” Chastity was beaming.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Friday 25th May 2007 – 5:30am
Several miles outside Sonoita, Mexico
“What about there?” Oz said, indicating a rocky ditch.
Pelor was shaking his head. “No, it is too open. Not enough shade to hide in while you come around the other side. And it is far too visible from the American side. What about over there?”
Oz made a face, “No, it has no cover at all. Not to mention a complete lack of features I could use to find it from the air. How about that one?”
This game had been going on for nearly an hour since leaving Sonoita. They had valid reasons for rejecting each site, but it was frustrating both of them. Oz was grumbling at having been roused before first light. And he was – not mad – but ticked off that he had been forced to share a room with Pelor and his damp and musty fur. Oz had to admit, though, that the colour was much improved from what it had been prior to his bath – not to mention the smell.
Pelor had been in such a rush that Oz had not even had time to get a cup of coffee. That ticked him off too.
“What about there?” asked Pelor, already searching for the next reject.
“Sure,” said Oz in clipped tones, slowing the truck and pulling closer to the cactus patch. “It looks dandy.”
*I’ll dump him here, grab some coffee and maybe a doughnut then drive back through the border and meet him here in…* Oz checked his watch. “An hour or so from now sound good to you?”
Oz held out the spare cell phone that Mike had provided.
With the phone clutched in his hand, Pelor alighted from the car and watched with a feeling of hope spiced with trepidation as Oz drove away in a cloud of dust. Some of what he and Oz had discussed in last night’s planning session sounded a little dubious to Pelor, and he reflected that abandoning him in the middle of nowhere would be just the sort of thing one of Delancre’s agents might do. But he had to admit that for all Oz’s uneven temperament and complaints, he was beginning to like the man, and could see why Alessa might call Oz a friend.
He paced anxiously for a time, then hunkered down next to the inadequate patch of cactus and merely waited. Out here where there were no curious eyes to peer at his unusual colouring, he let the cloak fall back to offer a little relief from the heat. At least the garment wasn’t quite so malodorous as it had been. Last night he’d washed it in the bathroom sink, and Pelor smiled at the memory of Oz’s look of disgust at the time.
He also remembered the scripture Oz had quoted to justify giving his snack to a beggar, and also how quickly Oz had turned away when he thought he’d done his good deed for the day. “Hmph. One of those Sunday Christians, I bet,” he muttered. Remembering some of the things Oz had talked about last night he amended that. “Delusional Sunday Christian.”
Pelor’s despondent mutterings were cut short by the sudden appearance of a blaze of fiery wings over the top of the border fence. His jaw dropped open as Oz landed gracefully before him, his angelic wings fully extended in all their magnificent glory.
“Phwaaa… I…” Pelor scrambled to his feet, his mouth still agape. “I-I thought you were having me on when you said you were an angel. But… wings!”
Oz breathed heavily. He had flown nearly a half-mile to get here; roughly like running the same distance. Oz was again reminded how far he still had to go to get back in perfect shape. He gasped, “What? You… didn’t believe me? How… did you think… I was going to… fly you over… the border?”
Oz gulped at the water bottle he had carried with him. He checked that the cell phone was still secure on his belt. He had not tried carrying anyone while he flew since well before Margaret. Oz paused in reverie, remembering how it had been to be an angel again. *Without this pain in my side from exertion,* he grumbled, stretching out the stitch.
Pelor looked abashed at Oz’s question. “Well, I thought perhaps you had some other way and were just… well, I don’t know… making up the bit about being an angel. Forgive me.” He glanced askance at the nature of Oz’s wings, however. “Uh, just one thing… Fire? Won’t they burn me if you try to carry me over?”
Oz shook his head, “It’s more like ‘the burning bush’ fire than the ‘column of fire’ flame. It is a flame that doesn’t burn.”
It was obvious that Pelor was having a crisis of faith at the moment and Oz touched his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s magic of sorts. Think about it like that.”
Pelor nodded and put his arms around Oz’s shoulders. He hopped up and hooked his feet around Oz’s waist and Oz grunted. “Are you sure you can do this?” Pelor asked.
Oz said, “No,” before launching onto the air.
Gasping at the suddenness of the motion, Pelor clutched Oz tightly and squeezed his eyes shut. But he could feel the breeze of their motion and hear the deep, steady beating of Oz’s wings, and slowly he opened his eyes again. A marvellous vista opened up before him, the undulating desert passing beneath them as Oz carried him effortlessly over that forbidding wall and towards freedom. *And Alessa.*
It was a magical moment, and one that Pelor almost wished would never end. Oz seemed tireless as he flew steadily towards a black speck that slowly resolved into the form of the truck. Wonder shone in Pelor’s eyes as they landed, Oz swooping gracefully down to the earth once more.
In hindsight, Pelor blamed himself for the way they wound up sprawled in the dirt. Obviously he must have unbalanced the angel, and he quickly got to his feet and moved to help Oz, apologising. “I’m sorry, Oz. Are you all right?”
Oz continued to lie face-first in the dirt, panting. “Did we clear the fence?”
As he rose with Pelor’s help he wiped the sweat of exertion from his face. His back and shoulders were killing him and if he could draw just one breath without pain he might feel better. He could see he might have to practice flying around in the desert on weekends if he was going to continue to work out like this. Oz looked into Pelor’s face and saw the delight in his eyes. *At least he enjoyed it.*
Oz rubbed at his shoulders as he started walking. “The truck is over there, about another quarter mile it looks like. We’d better hurry. I don’t want to be spotted by any patrol cars.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Friday, 25th May 2007 – 11:30am
Ambrose Delancre’s Study, LA
“Why am I surrounded by such incompetent nitwits!?”
The bellowed words followed Delancre’s hapless major domo as he scurried from the study and retreated to the relative safety of the antechamber outside. Surely the contents of the report he’d just handed his Lordship were not his fault, but Adaq was well aware of the consequences of being in the vicinity of Delancre’s wrath, no matter how peripherally.
For his part, Delancre had passed well beyond thoughts of retribution. The fact that Pelor had mysteriously risen from the grave was bad enough, but now he’d learned that the one who was purported to be his best assassin had not only failed in his task, but had in fact been killed himself. It was enough to make the most placid man furious, and Ambrose Delancre was not what you’d call a man of even temper.
“Stupid, bungling, idiotic… Graaah!!”
Muttering curses under his breath, Delancre set about the task of finding out exactly what had gone wrong and planning on pinpointing Pelor’s location once more. He perused the report more carefully, feeling a headache beginning in his temples where a vein pulsed rhythmically. According to the report, this morning’s daily scrying update of Tasil had revealed that the demon was buried somewhere beneath the desert sand near the border of Mexico. The clairvoyants had apparently seen nothing of Pelor, nor of how Tasil had met his death, except that it was sudden.
Delancre could only assume that somehow either Pelor himself or someone aiding the demon had uncovered Tasil’s presence and taken care of the assassin. It was a sobering thought. He needed to reacquire his target, and quickly.
“Adaq! Adaq!”
*****
Half an hour after the report had first hit Ambrose Delancre’s desk he was ensconced with his specialist seers in what he called the ‘Mystic Ritual Room’, but was generally referred to behind his back as the ‘Hocus Pocus Room’. Seated in a circle with three of his mages, Delancre mumbled with the rest of them as they attuned to the energy of the crystal that sat at their centre. Soon it glowed with an inner light, and Delancre leaned forward to see into the depths.
Though fuzzy, the image clearly showed a blue figure seated in a vehicle of some kind, being driven by a man with shoulder-length dark hair. Concentrating on the man, Delancre recognised him as the gardener Alessandra had hired at her house. His face drew down in a menacing scowl.
Abruptly he stood and barked, “Dismissed!”
The mages broke off their chanting and cast sidelong glances at each other as Delancre swept from the room. They each harboured the feeling that today could turn out to be an unpleasant day for all the denizens of the mansion.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Friday, 25th May 2007 – 1:00pm
Ambrose Delancre’s Study, LA
Delancre didn’t even look up when Kyle stormed into his office, throwing open both doors and marching right up to his desk. He still didn’t look up when the demon planted both fists angrily on the desk before him. Instead, the First Elder just continued to read the report in front of him calmly, letting the demon cool a little – no pun intended – and then , when he was ready, he looked up.
“Ah, Mr. Ashton. May I help you?”
Straightening back up now he had Delancre’s attention, Kyle folded his arms. “I thought I was supposed to be helping you.”
Delancre frowned. “I am not quite certain I understand what exactly you mean, Mr. Ashton.”
“Its very simple, Lord Delancre. We had a deal. And so far you’ve had me do nothing but sit around here training day in, day out. When am I going to do something? Tell Moore to pop out of the damned woodwork or whatever and give me another mission. And don’t talk to me about that Lone Peak one! Spending the night in a haunted nuthouse is not the sort of thing I signed up for.”
Sitting back in his chair, the leather creaking, Delancre smiled inwardly. It was a vast improvement over yesterday. *He called me ‘Lord’. I wonder if he realises that?* He certainly didn’t show any signs of doing so.
Recently the First Elder had begun to wonder whether the demon’s conditioning was taking any hold at all. Kyle still maintained a vivid independent streak. When he came into his office just a moment ago he had worried that the extra conditioning, posed as ‘latrine duty’, had backfired. But now, now he could see it was working, but the results were merely being shown in a peculiar way that reflected Kyle’s own peculiar mindset. Delancre noted an unconditioned Kyle would at least be smoking in his face, maybe even attempting to punch him.
For example, here Kyle was standing menacingly before him, demanding. But he was demanding to work for him . He had a desire to do Delancre’s bidding, to go out and kill who Delancre told him to, not for the reward or for the thrill. Kyle may be telling himself that, but Delancre could see it was not true.
“Well, it is funny you should say this, Mr. Ashton. As a matter of fact, something has just come up I would like you to take care of.” Delancre reached across for the report he had been previously reading; the one labelled ‘Pelor’.
Happy Birthday Emma
***Friday, 25 May 2007 – 1:44pm UK Time
The Coven of Sindell, Warwick, England***
(5:44am Pacific Time – Los Angeles Time)
Kate stood completely motionless as her eyes gazed out across the calm expanse of water. A cool breeze billowed through her hair and disturbed the bulrushes on the riverbank. The hollow reeds swayed back and forth in a whispering melody and caused a few ripples to form across the surface of the stream. Nearby the sound of children playing could be heard, their screams of delight shattering the otherwise peaceful afternoon.
Kate sighed as she raised a trembling hand to her face and wiped back several tears that rolled down her cheeks. In her free hand she held a bundle of pink roses and slowly she picked one out, raising the bloom to her lips and laying a gentle kiss upon it before throwing it into the still waters. “Happy Birthday, Emma,” she whispered quietly.
Galen frowned as he scanned the vast grounds of Sindell Hall, searching for his wife. He’d awoken alone that morning, confused at not finding Kate by his side. At first he figured that she’d gone to see Dr Lennon to continue work on the cure for Hyde, but after several hours had passed he’d eventually satisfied his curiosity and ventured to the lab where Jillian had insisted that she hadn’t seen Kate all morning. Now he was getting a little worried and he walked quickly, searching the crowds of young witches that lingered in small groups, laughing and exchanging books and gossip while on their way to classes.
He sighed apprehensively; he’d already spent the past hour searching the vast castle from the top of Merlin’s Tower to the basement catacombs where they had ventured several days ago, with no success. Galen looked up at the skies as a chill breeze swept through the grounds; dark clouds were beginning to gather on the horizon, heralding the onset of a potential rainstorm. He was about to head back inside when suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Excuse me… are, are you looking for Miss Wiccham?”
Galen turned around to be faced with a young girl. She squinted as she looked up at him, the low afternoon sun shining in her eyes.
“You’re her husband, aren’t you?” the girl asked, looking Galen up and down shyly. The American had been a hot topic of conversation amongst the lower schools of the academy for the past week; everyone thought he was so handsome but he seemed even more so in the flesh. “I’ve seen the two of you together…” said the girl, feeling her cheeks redden slightly. “I’m Suzi, Miss Wiccham used to teach me Ethics in year seven.”
Galen regarded the girl carefully as he nodded. “Have you seen her?”
Suzi nodded shyly. The man’s accent seemed so exotic and mysterious, it was sending her heart racing and she blushed as his eyes made contact with her own. “She was down by the riverside…” At the man’s bewildered expression she smiled and started walking. “Come on, I’ll show you…”
The sky overhead grew darker and heavier as Suzi led Galen through the vast gardens of Sindell to a secluded area of the River Avon. Galen thanked the girl as his eyes fell on the distinctive form of his wife as she stood by the water’s edge, the flimsy pink fabric of her camisole fluttering in the cool breeze. He took a deep breath before slowly walking towards her, stopping a little way behind as Kate’s quiet sobs met his ears and he saw her shoulders trembling as she struggled to try and contain her emotions.
Galen sighed morosely, digging his hands in his pockets as a slight downcast expression clouded his features. “I didn’t know if you’d remember.”
Kate felt her heart rise into her throat as she heard the gentle tone of her husband’s voice and she turned, their eyes meeting in a moment of shared understanding. Galen quickly closed the gap that separated them, taking Kate into his arms and holding her close, cradling her cheek against his shoulder.
A sigh of relief escaped Kate’s lips as she sank into Galen’s comforting embrace and wrapped her own arms around him gratefully. He felt so strong, so secure… she buried her face into the soft cotton of his shirt, inhaling his comforting, masculine scent. “How could I forget?” she asked quietly, tears welling up in her eyes again. “Today… it should have been her first birthday… she wasn’t even a year old, Galen, it’s just not fair…”
“I know… I know…” soothed Galen gently, tangling his large hands in his wife’s soft hair as he held her tighter. He’d realised that the anniversary of their daughter’s birth had been fast approaching for the past few days, and that it would be a particularly difficult time. Yet, though he ached inside a small part of him had secretly hoped that Kate would be so preoccupied that she might forget. For the past few weeks she had seemed to cope with things much better and he knew that the significance of this day would only bring her further heartache.
Slowly Galen pulled back and looked into Kate’s sombre face. She’d stopped crying but her eyes were still watery and her cheeks damp. He rolled the sleeve of his shirt over his hand and gently reached out to dry her tears. “I wish you’d woken me this morning,” he said softly as he continued his affectionate attentions. “We should be together today…”
“I’m sorry,” said Kate, taking Galen’s hand in her own as she halted him in his task, “I just… I didn’t know how I was going to feel and… I wasn’t sure if I wanted you to see me… like this.” She sighed heavily, her voice trembling as she spoke. “It just hurts so much, I keep thinking that the pain is going to fade, that… maybe I’m starting to come to terms with losing her… and then I remember the way she used to smile, her laugh when I tickled her feet, how she felt in my arms when I held her. I don’t think it’s ever going to stop hurting… and I can’t bear it.”
“I know,” said Galen quietly, wrapping his arms around her again and gently smoothing her hair back from her face. “I feel the same too, I know it hurts, but it’s not been long enough, not long enough to start forgetting, maybe not even long enough to start healing. I don’t even think it will ever stop hurting, not really. Just that, in time… in time it won’t hurt as much.”
Galen held Kate in his arms for long minutes, gently stroking her back, his hands bunching up the delicate chiffon as his hold tightened. Low thunder rumbled overhead but neither of them paid it any heed as Galen rested his chin on Kate’s bare shoulder, looking out at the river and the delicate pink roses that floated on the surface. He smiled softly, laying a loving kiss upon Kate’s smooth skin. “Those are pretty.”
Kate sniffled and wiped her eyes as she turned to look out at the river again. “I wanted to do something… something to show that we hadn’t forgotten about her.” Kate looked down as Galen wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands taking hold of hers. “I wish we were home,” she admitted sadly. “I want to be there, at her grave… I want to be with our baby. I want to be able to go into her room and look at her things…”
Galen gently kissed the back of Kate’s shoulder again, just above the thin strap of her camisole. “We will be soon,” he reassured her. “We’ve done what we came to do, right? Sindell, the Council… I know we haven’t finished the cure for Hyde but it won’t be long… and you know Emma is always here with us, it doesn’t matter where we are. Whenever we think of her, whenever we remember her she’ll be with us.”
“I just can’t help thinking what-” Kate hung her head low, the rest of her words lodging in her throat. She sighed heavily as though trying to expel her inner demons. “I’ve imagined so many times what today might be like,” she tried to explain, gazing out at the river once more. “I know it would have just been her first birthday and Emma would never remember it but I planned on making such a fuss.”
Kate’s eyes grew distant as she conjured up that image, running it through her mind like a miniature movie. “The two of us would spend all day blowing up balloons… baking a cake… tying up streamers in the living room… We’d invite all our friends and have the local kids round… hire a clown, or maybe a magician because I know lots of children are scared of clowns. I mean, they can be a little creepy with the face paint and the big floppy shoes-”
“Kate…” said Galen softly, pulling his wife closer into his arms and gently stroking his fingers through her hair.
“I know, I know,” said Kate, shaking her head, “I’m being silly-”
“No,” said Galen firmly, turning so that he could look her in the face, “you’re not. This time last year our daughter was being born, and now-” Galen shook his head bitterly. “You’re right, it’s not fair. And you’re not being silly thinking of what might have been…” Galen gently reached out his fingers and brushed away the remainder of Kate’s tears, “…personally, I would have gone with the magician.”
Miserable laughter escaped Kate’s lips before she even had a chance to stop it and she clasped a horrified hand over her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes. “Oh Gaia… how can I laugh at a time like this?”
“It’s all right,” insisted Galen, running the edge of his thumb against her cheek reassuringly. “You’ve not done anything wrong. Kate, I…” Galen paused, looking uncomfortable and averting his eyes from the penetrating gaze of his wife. “You have no idea how much I regret not being there for you when Emma died. My behaviour then was… inexcusable. When I think about what I put you through, how I pushed you away…” Galen looked up, his face remorseful and grave as he held Kate’s eyes.
“I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for what I did, but I will never stop trying to make it up to you.” Galen slowly combed his fingers through Kate’s hair. “I want to be here for you now, when it matters… because I love you.” Gently, he placed both of his hands on either side of her face and lifted her chin upwards so that he looked her in the eye. He paused for a moment, drinking in the absolute beauty of her dark blue eyes.
“I love you, Kate…” he repeated again firmly, his voice absent of all doubt.
A deep, satisfying warmth spread through Kate at the sincerity of Galen’s words and she smiled as her earlier worries subsided. Slowly, she reached out her hand, cupping her husband’s cheek lovingly before she lowered her hand to gently stroke at the back of his neck. Galen returned Kate’s warm smile, carefully brushing his thumb across her lips as he continued to hold her.
“I love you, too,” said Kate quietly, holding Galen’s intense gaze as he slowly lowered his mouth towards her own.
A loud crack of thunder shattered the silence, followed by a brief flash of lightning. Seconds later the heavens opened and cold water began to pour from the dark skies.
Kate blinked her eyes as though awakening from a dream as she felt cold raindrops land on her face. She looked around in surprise, seeing people running towards the Hall in an attempt to find shelter from the downpour. She laughed in amusement and this time it felt entirely natural. Kate looked up towards the heavens, closing her eyes as the rain soaked through her clothes in a matter of minutes.
“Oh god!” cried Galen to the skies as the rain began to pour hard and fast, bouncing off the ground almost violently. “Give me a break!”
Kate continued to laugh even as raindrops rolled off the end of her chin. “Come on,” she said, taking Galen’s hand, holding it close against her chest as she pulled him towards the Hall. “We should get out of this rain…”
Kate and Galen Sleep Together (finally)
***Friday, 25 May 2007 – 4:09pm UK Time
The Coven of Sindell, Warwick, England***
(8:09am Pacific Time – Los Angeles Time)
Kate shrieked in delight, her laughter echoing in the lofty hallways as she and Galen pushed their way through the growing crowd of witches that had also run for cover at the sudden downpour. Galen held Kate’s hand tightly as she led the way back to their quarters, weaving through the amassed crowds, his heart beating furiously as he threw the door open and they tumbled inside, drenched from the rain and panting from the exertion of their mad dash across the grounds.
Taking a moment to catch his breath, Galen couldn’t help but stare at his wife as she stood before him, soaked to the skin, her long red hair hanging in wet curls clinging against her equally wet flesh. Her thin chiffon camisole was entirely soaked through, moulded against the supple curves of her breasts like a second skin. The pale pink fabric was so wet that it seemed almost transparent and Galen could clearly see the indentation of her nipples poking through the delicate material. A low, controlled breath escaped his lips as he found himself unable to draw his attention away from Kate’s body. A flood of memories entered his mind, reminding him what it felt like to run his hands across her skin, to cup her heavy breasts in his hands, to hold her close, to kiss her…
“This is becoming something of a…habit,” he mumbled quietly, his hands still holding Kate’s tightly, his fingers twisting around hers. “You and me…”
Kate murmured distractedly as Galen pulled her a little closer, his wet clothes brushing against her bare skin. She bit her lower lip contemplatively as her own eyes flitted across her husband’s rain-drenched body, his loose cotton shirt clinging against the lean planes of his chest beneath.
“We’re alone now,” she said softly, her voice little more than a breathless whisper as she felt the weight of Galen’s lustful gaze upon her and noticed the tenseness in his body as he struggled to hold himself in check. They had been about to kiss before she realised, before the rain had come, before the moment had been interrupted once again…
With a slight movement, Galen leaned in closer, his hand reaching behind Kate as he turned the door lock with a quiet ‘click’.
“Let’s keep it that way,” he breathed desirously, his hands sliding around Kate’s back, grasping at the wet fabric of her top and holding her close.
Kate gasped at the sudden contact, reaching up and curling her fingers around the back of Galen’s neck, drawing him down to her height and guiding his lips towards her own. She looked deeply into his dark brown eyes, her mouth poised just beneath his, her lips parted ever so slightly. Her hands continued to stroke the back of his neck yearningly, moving upwards steadily as she combed her fingers through his wet hair.
Galen moistened his lips in anticipation as Kate closed her eyes and trailed her open mouth against his temptingly, the edge of her tongue brushing against his lips until he couldn’t take any more. He cupped Kate’s face gently between his hands, leaning in closer as his mouth made contact with hers, exploring her soft, full lips before sliding his tongue into her mouth to devour her in a hungry and passionate kiss.
Kate breathed in deeply, responding to her lover’s touch as he tangled his fingers in her wet hair while they kissed, their lips and tongue desperate to seek out that familiar taste of one another. It felt so unbelievably strange for him to be holding her like this, to be kissing her, even though things had been heading in that direction for some time now. Part of Kate felt completely afraid of what would come next, scared that it might change things between them, that it might not feel the same.
As Galen drew her in closer, Kate moaned softly, holding onto her husband even tighter as she melted into his embrace, her fears and apprehensions slowly slipping away. Galen’s kisses were so intense they were making her head feel so dizzy and her legs so weak that she felt like she might faint at any moment.
“NO!” cried Kate as a crowd of doctors and nurses surrounded her daughter working hard to save her life, the sound of the defibrillator charging up whining in the background. Kate fought to push away the elderly nurse who tried to lead her out of the room, her eyes fixed on Emma as the loud, unsteady beep of the heart monitor filled the room. “No… I want to stay! PLEASE!! Why don’t you do something??” she urged, pushing the nurse away a second time. “Don’t let her die! Oh my god!! Please… no…”
Kate felt jolted to her senses for a moment as the memory of that horrific night suddenly filtered into her consciousness. The night that Emma had died. She had relived those terrible moments so many times in her mind, things that Kate didn’t want to think about right now. She shook back those memories; they would still be there later and now… right now she wanted to make love to her husband, to feel his body against her own, to touch, to caress…
The two of them staggered around the room a little awkwardly, completely lost in their embrace as they continued to kiss and touch one another with wild abandon. Galen's hands tugged at the clingy material of Kate’s top, almost tearing at the fiddly buttons he was so anxious to remove it, to feel her breasts, to kiss their perfect softness. Kate giggled light-headedly, wrapping her arms tightly around Galen’s neck and holding on to him as they stumbled about the room in a clumsy manner, almost knocking over a priceless table lamp until they finally managed to find a wall to lean up against, coming to a halt with a breathy groan.
“You’re freezing…” mumbled Galen between kisses as he noticed that Kate was trembling beneath his hands. “I should get you out of these wet clothes….” He looked up into Kate’s eyes as he gently pushed the thin straps of her top down her shoulders, kissing his way across her damp flesh along the lace trim, his tongue lightly lapping at every drop of rain that attempted to escape between the cleavage of Kate’s breasts.
Galen’s eyes stared blankly ahead as he gazed into the distance, beyond his daughter’s grave and the gathered well wishes. Beyond his wife and father-in-law. His gaze became fixed on the shadowed horizon though his ears were ever alert to the words of the High Priest as the requiem continued.
“In time we must all journey beyond to pause, to rest, and to wait for those who are loved in a place far from the cares of this world, with happiness and strength renewed. For dying is only a way of forgetting, a mode of rest, of returning to the Eternal Source…”
Galen shook his head, blinking a little as the image of standing by his daughter’s graveside, of hearing those consoling words melted away into darkness just as suddenly as it had arrived. He looked up at Kate who had her eyes closed, revelling in the pleasures that he was unleashing upon her body as she slid her top over her head. He’d treated her so horribly, said such nasty things… he couldn’t believe that she could still forgive him, that she could still love him…
Kate opened her eyes and let her hands slide down Galen’s shoulders, wrapping her fingers around his damp shirt and drawing him up to her level again. She paused for a moment, unbuttoning the stubbornly unco-operative fastenings before peeling it back from his well-defined shoulders and discarding it on the floor. She let her fingers map the firm contours of his chest before wrapping her hands around the back of his neck and pulling him fiercely close, her lips and tongue assaulting his again as she kissed him with an almost insatiable hunger. Galen let the earlier thought dissolve from his mind; he just wanted Kate too much right now to hold back any longer and maybe there was still a chance to get back what they had once had.
He pressed Kate harder against the wall, knocking a few pictures from their hangings in his haste, not that either of them noticed. Kate hoisted up the hem of her skirt and wrapped her bare thigh tightly around Galen’s torso to steady herself, feeling his body crush against her naked breasts. She moaned into his mouth as she felt his hand rub and massage her nipples, tweaking them into a pink hardness. His touch set her on fire, sending delicious shivers through her skin.
“I don’t pretend to know every feeling in your heart Galen,” Kate said painfully, holding back a tormented sob at Galen’s malicious words. “I know that you are being purposefully cruel to me, that you seem to want to hurt me!” She tore at the delicate buttons of her shirt a little, feeling the tight fabric closing in on her lungs making it difficult to breathe.
“You ignore me, you avoid me, you don’t talk to me… you do everything in your power to avoid a situation where you might, heaven forbid, have to touch me. You spend your entire days as far away from this house as you possibly can – and I know that you haven’t been going to work so DON’T even think of using that excuse on me any more! Did you think I was so stupid? Did you think I wouldn’t find out!?”
“Oh please…” moaned Kate at the words ringing in her ears. She didn’t want to remember the pain and sorrow that had been attached to them; all she wanted was Galen, to feel him inside her, for him to bring her to the very heights of pleasure like he had done so many times before.
“Oh honey,” groaned Galen, still completely engrossed in the delights of his wife’s body. Her skin was so damp from the rain; the moisture still clung to her flesh, drops of rainwater rolling down her shoulders or over her thigh. Galen pursued the wet trail of one with his finger, drawing the wetness further up Kate’s thigh and pushing his way under her skirt.
Kate gasped as Galen’s fingers moved up her inner thigh, closer to that place of burning desire that yearned to feel him inside her. She moaned wantonly against his mouth as his hand made contact, his fingers rubbing that highly sensitive spot through the lace of her underwear, his expert ministrations turning her legs to jelly again.
“Oh… oh god, I need you…” Kate all but panted in a haze of desperation as Galen continued to work her up into a state of blind lust. For months she had wanted this, to feel Galen pressed hard against her, to taste him, to have him touch her like this… Now that it was finally happening it was driving her crazy, her cheeks felt hot and her body trembled, it was like she was ready to explode.
“I know…” whispered Galen softly; his face barely inches from hers as Kate drew him in close, wrapping an arm tightly around his neck. “I know… I want it too, so badly baby.” His free hand caressed the back of her neck, combing through her dripping wet hair and holding her firmly against the wall. He leaned in once more, his lips crushing against hers and his tongue lightly pressing into her mouth again to taste her sweetness while his other hand continued to pleasure his wife until he felt her tremble and shiver in delight and a light, breathy gasp escaped her ravished lips.
Galen smiled and removed his hand from between Kate’s legs as that spot became too sensitive for her to stand his touch any longer. His hand travelled down the soft flesh of the thigh that Kate had wrapped around his torso, massaging the slick wetness on his fingers into her supple skin.
“You said you wanted to help me…” Kate said after a moment, running her hand lazily up Damen’s arm, she could feel his rippling muscles tense and relax as she did so. *My god he’s so strong…* “Help me to feel, Damen…” she asked wearily, “feel, something, anything except this… this pain.”
Kate gasped again as Galen thrust himself closer against her tingling body, rubbing his own stiffness against her and wrenching all guilty thought of her indiscretion with Damen out of her mind. She slowly reached down between their bodies, her hands coming to rest on the waistband of Galen’s pants. Kate looked up into his eyes as her fingers unfastened that first button and then eased down the zipper, slipping a hand inside. This was the man she wanted, this was the only man she’d ever wanted.
A rasping groan resonated low in Galen’s throat and he sucked in air between his clenched teeth as Kate continued her expert ministrations. “Oh god,” he moaned pleasurably, reaching out a hand to lean against the wall. “Oh god, that feels good…”
“Just want to… return the favour,” smiled Kate, her own voice breathy with desire as she increased the amount of friction she was applying to Galen’s ever hardening groin, causing him to moan deeply again. “As enjoyable as all this is…” she said with another smile, loving the expression of absolute pleasure on her husband’s face, “if you don’t make love to me soon I’m seriously going to have to consider divorce…”
“Well that would never do…” grinned Galen, trailing kisses up Kate’s throat and then nuzzling just behind her ear, causing Kate to both blush and giggle at the things he whispered to her, things he wanted to do to her, things he wanted her to do to him. He finished unbuttoning Kate’s skirt and slowly eased it down over her hips, his hands sliding down her lush curves and long, shapely legs as he followed the fabric down.
Galen remained crouched low as he gazed up at his wife. She was almost completely naked, still pressed against the wall with her eyes closed again as she ran her own hands behind her neck and above her head, occasionally allowing a hand to trail down lazily to play with her own breasts. Another low sigh escaped his lips as he felt himself become even more aroused; he knew that he couldn’t wait much longer.
“Running away?” Galen asked, his voice turning suddenly calm as he walked slowly towards Kate. “Well I may run away,” he said steadily, advancing on his wife and forcing her to stumble backwards until she hit the edge of the kitchen table, “but at least I don’t go around fucking the first person I see as soon as things go wrong!”
Galen slammed his fist down hard on the table, making her jump in response. “Do you know what that makes you Kate?” he asked quietly, leaning in close, his eyes looking at her with a mixture of disgust and anguish. “In my book that makes you a whore… …a cheap, dirty little whore.”
“Make love to me,” whispered Kate softly, drawing Galen close as he slowly rose to his feet, looking almost ashamed as he remembered the horrible things he’d said to her that day. “I need to feel you…” insisted Kate, running her hands across Galen’s body, “…to feel you inside me…”
Galen did little more than moan her name as he took Kate in his arms again, his hands sliding down her naked back as she arched herself against him and they stumbled almost blindly over to the soft, inviting bed.
Kate kicked off her sandals before they collapsed down onto that amazing softness, gasping as she felt that familiar warmth spread through her body as Galen’s lips and tongue move down over her breasts. She closed her eyes, drawing in a long, deep breath as she felt his warm mouth searching its way across her body, igniting a fire within herself that had been dormant for far too long.
Suddenly she felt cold as Galen withdrew his attentions and Kate frowned, looking up to see him struggling to remove his soaking wet pants. She smiled at him contentedly and then lay back down on the bed to wait for him.
Galen swore inwardly as he fumbled with the awkward, damp fabric of his pants, desperate to remove them. As he continued in his task, he happened to glance up at the bed, seeing Kate reclined back on the rich silk covers completely naked except for a small scrap of black lace. He swallowed hard as she rubbed her long bare legs together sensually, her hand slipping down between her legs and closing her eyes as she slowly pleasured herself. Galen’s jaw almost hit the floor as he finally pulled the heavy fabric from his body and crawled back onto the bed to join his wife.
“You made me feel like dirt, you… made me feel… worthless.” Kate slowly levelled her gaze at Galen again, holding his attention for long, painful minutes before she spoke again. “And all the while you were hiding a dirty secret of your own, too much of a coward to tell me!”
“I didn’t want to hurt you…”
“Well you did…” cried Kate in absolute agony. “Goddamn it, you did!” Suddenly she launched herself at him, her fists flying. Galen half caught her in his arms, surprised and startled while more than a little scared. “How could you?!” Kate screamed in torment. “How could you do it with her?! How could you do it with HER?!” Kate cried out in a mixture of anger and disappointment, her fists beating impotently against her husband with the little strength she actually had left to fuel her rage.
“Hit me! Come on Kate!” Galen demanded before wrapping his own arms around her and pulling her in close. “Let it out…” he soothed as he held her, his hold tightening somewhat and drawing her closer as her weak punches became fewer and fewer.
Eventually Kate just gave up and collapsed in his embrace, worn out as she wept, her body trembling and shuddering beneath his arms. “It’s okay…” Galen soothed as she continued to weep, “It’s okay… you let everything out, you want to hit me some more then that’s good… I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…”
Galen wrapped the smooth silk sheets around their bodies loosely as they made themselves more comfortable in the huge bed. “Umm, better?” he asked lovingly. Kate was so cold from the rain that she trembled beneath him. Galen rubbed her chilled flesh in a bid to warm her some.
“Much better…” smiled Kate at Galen’s loving attention. She held him close between her legs, the heat from his firm, masculine body feeling better than she had she had ever remembered it.
They lay together for a while just touching each other and enjoying the feel of their naked bodies moulded against one another. Galen gently leaned lower, kissing Kate’s neck and shoulders as she lay beneath him, holding him closer.
Galen gently stroked back Kate’s hair, looking deep into her pained eyes as they sat on the kitchen floor. “Our world was falling down around us, but we couldn’t stop it from falling by using stakes or weapons or spells. We couldn’t fight it into submission, we had to ride it out, weather the storm. This is where it has taken us, and look where we are… back together, back in each other’s arms.”
“Back in each other’s arms?” repeated Kate, looking deeply into Galen’s eyes. She desperately wanted to believe him, but she wasn’t sure, not about anything any more.
Galen nodded, holding Kate close against him, leaning in slowly to lay a gentle kiss on her lips. “That’s right,” he soothed, kissing her a second time and letting his forehead rest against hers. “You and me, together, and that’s how it’s going to stay.”
Kate inhaled sharply as their bodies fitted together, like a key in a lock; her legs squeezed around Galen’s torso tighter and she moaned softly as he just held her in his arms. They stayed like that for a long while, completely still apart for the rhythm of their steady, controlled breathing, enjoying the warm, tingling sensation of their connection.
Kate looked up into Galen’s dark brown eyes and gently brushed a few wet tendrils of hair back from his forehead. Galen smiled down at her as he continued to hold her naked body against his own. His own breathing quickened a little as he felt the desperate, almost uncontrollable urge to just let go, to let his passions take over, but he fought against it, not wanting anything to disturb their quiet, intimate embrace. Their eyes gazed back at one another, searching, loving, their bodies rising and falling in perfect synchronicity. Kate moaned again, a little more insistently this time and Galen leaned in to kiss her throat and the tops of her shoulders, loving the soft, warmth of her naked flesh beneath him and against his lips.
As the minutes slowly passed and their torturous labour of desire continued he noticed her beginning to tremble again. He reached to brush back her damp hair lovingly. “Are you okay?” he whispered softly.
Kate nodded, feeling those familiar sensations flood her body. She wanted to cry out, tip her head back and close her eyes as the warm euphoria rose within her body but she did neither. Instead she continued to look into Galen’s eyes, her breathing heavy and shallow as she fought back the urge to vocalise her ecstasy.
Galen only wrapped his arms tighter around Kate’s back, drawing a hand through her hair and cradling the back of her head as she let a series of quiet moans escape her lips and he felt those familiar contractions deep inside his wife. He moaned a little himself but held it back, determined to make every sensation last as long as possible.
He wiped the perspiration back from Kate’s forehead, brushing her hair back too and gently stroking the heat of her skin, trailing his fingers against her lightly flushed cheeks. “Are you okay?” he asked again with a smile. “You’re still trembling…”
“I know,” acknowledged Kate, her voice gasping and breathy, “but I, I’ll be okay…” she said softly, gazing lovingly into her husband’s eyes as she pulled him in closer once more.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, May 23rd, 2007 - 22:40
Slowly inebriated? The woman drank like a water depraved camel! And she still only seemed partially affected by the drug. It really was amazing!
“There’s too many dicks around, nowadays…”
Well, she had admittedly started talking a lot more now than before and seemed to have even less care for public property than usual - Chastity had taken a random stab in the dark that the woman didn’t care much for public property regardless her state - since she’d just somehow managed to knock a parking meter over that had been solidly set in its foundations not two seconds ago. At least Chastity was sure it was… there didn‘t seem to be much effort behind the push. Swirly vision also made hard work of determining these sorts of things, so there very well could have been bulgy muscled effort behind that push that she just didn’t see.
So far they’d only managed to hit three bars in which Reah bought Chastity one drink each, while Chastity lost count of how many drinks Reah’d bought for herself. Ah well, in the end it didn’t really matter what the bar count was or how many drinks they both had: Reah’d been true enough to her word. She really was able to get her in and provide drinks, no dramas. Just how dodgy was this city?
“Too many dickheads. Sorry. Whoop! There’s a gutter there.” Reah swiftly caught her trip up the raised ground and continued on her casual babble. “Fucking useless… What was I saying again?”
“Ya ’ate ev’ryone,” Chastity grinned and took extra precaution not to appear even the slightest bit tipsy in the public street by tripping up the raised gutter Reah’d just pointed out while they were apparently still ‘pub crawling’ - as the woman had put it - and headed toward whatever their next destination was to be. Chastity didn’t know many bars, really. She’d mainly just drunk at parties and what not previously.
“You understand why, don’t you?” Reah rolled her eyes with a grunt at Chastity’s condescending smirk. “Well fuck you too ‘Little Miss Know-it-all-pain-in-my-arse’!”
“Well, ya reasin seem preeety lame fo’ ya to ’ate ev’ryone an ev’ryting!”
Reah eyed her night’s youthful drinking companion with a questionable eyebrow. “You know, I’m trying to work out whether you speak better when your drunk or sober.”
Chastity hissed, her smile slurring happily across her face. “Shhhhhh, quiet you.”
“Whatever.” Reah continued on her brisk pace with their new destination in mind, though not really concentrating, while Chastity was forced to kick her legs up a gear and catch up. “I shouldn’t expect anyone from here to ever understand, cos ur all fucked and think I’m crazy if I try, when really… ur’all jus’ fucked!” She sniffed. “I’m so not the close-minded one here.”
“Ya huh, sure. Then ’ow are we sposed ta-whoa!”
“What?” Reah turned around reflexively with her hand paused in pushing open the bar door to see Chastity standing board stiff and recovering from shock.
The girl darted her head up and down the street then down the alley between the buildings before shrugging back at Reah with a sheepish grin. “Thought I nearly step’d on a catten.”
“A catten?”
Chastity sucked her lips in innocently, then struck her tongue out. “Shuddup you! I wen’ ta say cat ’n kitten at da same time.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Reah sighed and finally stepped into the bar with Chastity close on her heels. “Was probably an oversized rat anyway. Those bastards seem to be everywhere. Chittering… scratching… bi-”
“WHOAH!”
“… ’ting! Uch,” Reah moaned and rounded back on the girl. “What this time?”
Chastity meekly pointed up to something just past Reah. “Tha’ guy has ’orns growin’ outta ’is ’ead.”
Slowly, Reah frowned and turned back to look at what the girl was pointing at. Sure enough there was an eight foot, brown trench-coat wearing, scaled demon with Hellboyish horns curling out of his head. Another glance across the room brought her attention to Bob behind the bar who was looking at her strangely. *Oh yeah… whoops. Bugger! I was… half feeling like a drink here too.*
With one last glance around the room, Reah turned back to gently usher Chastity out. “C’mon, I think we should probs leave.” *Bob’s Bar and inexperienced mind. Nice work me!*
“Nah, nah,” Chastity’s hands brushed off Reah’s directing ones while she continued to stare at the large horned demon. “It’s ’lright. Is tha’ a demon costume?”
“No, that’s a demon demon. Now c’mon, they don’t like to be stared at.” Reah groaned as Chastity forcefully pushed her hands away. “Especially on their own turf.”
“He’s cool!” Chastity tried whispering quietly in an attempt of subtlety, unfortunately the high pitch of her excitement seemed to carry and catch the attention of said demon - not to mention many other demons in the bar.
“Look, would you shut up!” Reah’s voice dropped in deadly seriousness, wide eyes staring down at Chastity full of warning. “I don’t want to cause any trouble like I have a habit of doing in this place. Now lets g-”
“Hey!”
A heavy weighted hand, to match the heavy deep rumbling voice, fell on Reah’s shoulder with an immense grip that could have probably covered the expanse of both her shoulders. Her eyes narrowed through Chastity who was finally looking like she was ready to leave.
“I hope I’m not interrupting you ladies’ conversation, but I couldn’t help but overhear.” The voice seemed to reverb off the very bones in Reah’s body, it was so deep! “Did you have anything you were wanting to say to my face, yes?”
“No, piss off.” To Chastity she mouthed “let’s go” and moved to usher her out once more, but was held back by the grip that apparently could expand across both her shoulders, as the demon had just gone on to prove.
“Don’t be rude,” it rumbled again. “I believe that one in particular had something to say.” The jolt on her shoulders had Reah visualising the horned demon nodding toward Chastity, and prepared herself for the rough ’n’ tumble.
Chastity squeaked and Reah was ready to flip the guy, but as she shifted her feet slightly to do so, Chastity suddenly opened her mouth and actually spoke!
“I-I w-was just sayin’ you were… ya know… cool!” Her voice seemed to dwindle toward the end. “I haven’ seen a demon before, is all. Didn’t think they… um… you… exis… … ted…”
Reah’d never seen Chastity look so small. She didn’t even think it humanly possible for the girl. Wrongly, she kind of found herself overjoyed by this. Another ‘victory’, so to speak.
The demon went quiet for a long while, so much so that he started to have Reah on edge. She found herself wanting to find out what the dude had to say before she dropped his arse. It was a painful wait, not to mention the weight of his hand across her shoulders that seemed to gradually get heavier and heavier. When he finally spoke, it was as though she’d forgotten to breathe and only just realised.
“You realise what I am, small girl, yes?”
Reah watched Chastity nod the slightest of nods as her eyes remained fixated on the beast she couldn’t see behind her.
“I could tear your throat, crush your head like a grape in the palm of my hand, snap your body in half, as this is my nature. You think this is cool, yes?”
Chastity’s nod was a lot more hesitant this time. In fact, Reah found herself cursing as she realised it was more of a shake! What was she doing? *Never taking that girl out again.*
“I-I…”
“Yes…?” The increased weight on her shoulders told Reah the demon was leaning in expectantly to hear what Chastity had to say. Though she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t herself.
“I like your horns.”
Everything paused, the whole room went still, and for the first time Reah only just realised that their group of three had been the centre of attention for sometime now. Very few patrons weren’t watching.
“… You like my horns…” Apparently there was another level of flatness that could be achieved by this voice.
“They’re cool,” Chastity repeated weakly. “You rampage ’n’ kill, I know, but like you said… it’s ya nature. You can’ help it.” Reah counted herself lucky that she managed to hear any of that, but she found herself rolling her eyes again.
“For fuck’s sake Chastity, have you even looked at him closely? Oof!” Reah shakily got to her feet, using the table of the booth she’d caught herself on to pull herself up off her knees. “Ow…”
“Well,” the demon continued on as Reah found her feet again. “If my horns are so ‘cool’ as you put it, perhaps you two little stick insects would join me for a drink, yes?” Without waiting for the wide-eyed girl to reply, the large demon swung out one of its thick, heavy arms to gather Chastity up and usher her over to the booth Reah’d collapsed on, only with a lot more success than Reah had had in ushering her outside.
Rolling her eyes, Reah just plonked herself down and shuffled across the oversized seating to make way for the other two.
“So,” Reah started when the two finally had themselves organised - Chastity looking rather awkward and small sitting close between Reah and the demon whose piercing black gaze never strayed from the girl. “What’s you’re poison?”
“Anything bloody…”
*** 30 minutes later ***
“BWA-HA-HA-HA-HAAA! … Amusing.”
Chastity was pissing herself in muted laughter, rolling all over the place and crushing Reah at times as she tried to contain herself. Reah herself was almost snickering as she shook her head bemusedly at the drunken girl. Leon, their new friend apparently, slammed the bench laughing raucously at some joke that must have slipped over her head. Either way, the reaction of the other two was funny enough on its own to keep her mildly amused. You’d have never believed that this was Chastity’s first time meeting a demon.
“Hehe, hm… Sa hows ’bouts it, Reah?” Chastity’s voice dropped suspiciously low as the girl grinned slyly up at her, finger playing ever so lightly and close on her upper thigh. Apparently Reah had definitely missed something as her eyes bulged in alarm.
“Wha…?”
Chastity flipped, doubling back in another full fit of laughter, shoulders arched into Reah as she spasmed about silently while the loud thunking of the demon’s heavy fist came again. Catching onto the general idea of what the joke had been - since she had otherwise been preoccupied with her fresh batch of shots that had only just arrived and lain out before her - she thought she might as well test this Chastity out and see just how far she’d have to go before the overconfident girl freaked.
A wicked grin split across Reah’s devious features as she turned her gaze back to the shots and slowly raised her hand around to contemplatively finger the first of three in line. She was so going to win this battle in the classified war.
Raising the 45ml glass within an inch of her lips, she tilted her head sidelong to leer attentively at Chastity who was slowly recovering from her giggles until she finally caught her eye and smirked. “Don’t tempt me girl…”
Shot three,
Two,
One,
Game on…
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Thursday, May 24th, 2007 - 08:06
It was early… too early…. What time was it? Eight. That explained the light spilling in through the slits of her blinds that was searing her vision. Why couldn’t she get up? Ah, an arm. That explained the extra warmth.
Question was: whose arm? The last night was a bit of a blur.
Peeling open one eye, Reah peered through the tiny, light-assaulted slit and waited for the glare to clear enough so she could get a look at the… feminine arm! *Hm… did I run into Alice last night?* Rolling over she nearly regretted it as she jumped right out of her skin and fell right out to land hard on the floor.
“Ow… Fucken…” *Wood be hard.*
“Ooh, fuck…”
*Oh yay! Chas is awake. This’ll be… naked! Shit!* Reah scrambled desperately across the floor as low as possible to a dishevelled pile of clothes near the door, all the while consciously aware of the rustling bed sheets from behind that she was trying profusely to ignore.
“Um… hiya…”
“Hi!” Reah sprung up, her loose black T awkwardly twisted around her body, inside out and back-to-front as a result of her rushed scramble for cover.
Chastity seemed almost as stuck for words as Reah, for once, niggling at the corner of her lower lip while sitting upright with the bed sheet wrapped tightly around her. No smiles this morning, it seemed - yet strangely enough, Reah wasn’t too concerned about keeping score of this little ‘victory’.
“Ya tag’s hangin’ out.”
“Wha…?” Reah frowned as the girl’s head ducked away to stare fixatedly at the end of the bed. And was Reah mistaken in thinking she was smirking! “Oh, this is so wrong.”
“What?”
“So very wrong.”
“Do you think we woke Quin?” She was! Chastity had a full blown smirk spread right across her stupid little face! And if she was trying to hide it, she was doing a bloody pathetic JOB OF IT!
Reah crossed her arms firmly and glared over the white tag that was sticking out like a tongue. “She’s not here, just like you shouldn’t be.” *Fuck! How much did I drink last night? I must have been utterly tanked!*
“Oh yeah?” Chastity turned to Reah with a questioning eyebrow. “And whose fault’s that?”
She could have retorted, probably should have. At least that way the anger would have kept her distracted from what was plain for all to see. An involuntary shudder momentarily took over her body as she tried casting her mind back to the previous night. What was wrong with her? She didn’t even have any virus to use as an excuse.
“I’ll drive you to school.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Thursday, May 24th, 2007 - 08:57am
*Yeah, bye.* Reah waved half-heartedly before pulling out of the curb when traffic cleared and speeding off as fast and far as she could without looking back.
Never in her life had she been so disgusted with herself. It wasn’t that she thought Chastity was a bad person or grotesque - admittedly she was quite normal and standable. But that was by no means made what she’d done excusable. She’d cry if she could. She’d never wanted to more in her life, with the exception of losing Dre’an. Thinking of that now just made her want to cry even more.
“How the fuck did that even end up happening, anyway!” She started scolding herself in the desolation of what remained. There was no way she could rise above this, and the bleak silence of her car only helped emphasise the feeling.
Slamming the stereo on at full ball, Reah tore down the freeway for as long as her mind flayed its endless rage upon itself over and over again until eventually she tired herself out and pulled over down some unused off-road track before she finally cut out the engine competely and just sat in her silence revisited.
What was she doing? Why didn’t she just keep on driving down that road, only stopping so she could refuel to keep on running. It was ridiculous! The world shouldn’t be able to be so fucked up. The whole situation was just wrong - whatever situation it was exactly that she was referring to. When she’d returned back from the future, she’d often found herself wondering if she was dreaming - she just eventually forgot about it.
Was she dreaming? Did she even exist? Was any of this real, or was she just plain insane? That last would make the most sense of them all and explain everything.
A glance across the dash brought her cybernetic eyes to the glove box which she just seemed to stare at for a good long while. No idea why the thing was so captivating at that particular moment. Perhaps it was because it was the most normal thing around her right now. She definitely wasn’t a normal thing - her own eyes weren’t even natural.
Without even thinking, Reah’d suddenly found herself popping open the glove box and withdrawing a pen and pad from inside. A moment long of just sitting there and staring at the bland whiteness before her, and she finally built up the courage to put pen to paper…
…
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Friday, 25th May 2007 – 4:10pm
Pelor stared around him at the seedy neighbourhood Oz was driving him through.
“And you tell me this is the bad area?” Pelor shook his head. “It beats the heck out of Mexico, I tell you.”
During the long drive through southern California, Pelor and Oz had chatted a little, but Pelor was too anxious about his upcoming meeting with Alessa to feel really comfortable. He had to admit, though, the “ex” angel – though Pelor had his doubts about the “ex” part – exuded an air of ease that he found soothing.
“I know, but even Mexico is still better than the ghettos of Berlin or Poland, let me tell you.” Oz had established a little in the way of rapport with the blue furred demon. They had talked along the way, enough to give Pelor a good idea of the danger he had placed Alessa in. Pelor had almost decided to change the plans but Oz assured him that Alessa would be very careful. He had expressed concerns at her memory loss, however, and had not elaborated on what he knew of Isla Nublada and the events he had witnessed.
Oz left Pelor in the vehicle while he went ahead into the Armoury to scout. An attractive, if muscular, blonde woman behind the counter levelled a casual look on Oz.
“Can I help you?”
“Are you Reah? I was told you would be our host for a visitor from Mexico.” Oz kept his voice low despite the vague references.
“You must be Oz,” she sniffed. “Stick that enormous black truck out back and bring the ‘guest’,” she said, making air quotes, “in through the loading dock out back. Take him downstairs, that oughta be safest.”
Oz nodded. Reah was all business, so he declined to talk to her further in favour of following her directives. Pelor was curious as he sat back in the truck after so short a visit.
“Is this the right place?” he asked.
Oz nodded. “Yes, but we are going in the back door rather than the front one.”
Pelor’s life on the run had made him wary. “A sensible precaution. Do you trust these people, Oz?”
Oz looked at Pelor and saw the large, azure eyes focus on his. “I don’t know any of them, but Alessa trusts them. Sometimes we have to trust the instincts of other people and hope,” *and pray,* “that they are right.”
Oz put the truck in park and crossed the parking lot behind the Armoury with the hooded Pelor at a trot, and saw that the huge loading dock door was rolling up.
Darian watched with a mixture of relief and anxiety as the vehicle pulled into the safety of the Armoury; if there was in fact a demon aboard who had info regarding the First Watcher’s clandestine plans, then no doubt a coup was soon to follow. *Well, I can’t say that LA is boring,* he sighed to himself as the truck pulled to a stop. In his not so long stay in the city, Darian could hardly count on his fingers the number of monsters, demons, vampires, and just random ‘bumps in the night’ that he and his friends dealt with on a frighteningly regular basis. *Well, it’s been, what, a couple months since that big Proserpexa incident? I guess we were due for another apocalyptic crisis.*
Alessa waited impatiently in the Armoury’s basement for Oz to arrive with Pelor. She looked around and decided to do something in the meantime. She really felt guilty for leaving Reah after she had lent a hand during a time when Alessa had felt purposeless, but it wasn’t to be helped. If she wanted this thing with Delancre to work she needed to be with him on permanent basis. Reah had seemed to understand, fortunately. She had been the only one of her friends not to treat her as crazy but just warned her seriously; Alessa was sure Reah could see the true motives behind her efforts too, and she didn’t care. But then, Reah was a strange woman, much too unpredictable; she had yet to get to know her boss.
As she moved around the basement, putting things in the display cases in order and cleaning a bit, she heard the sound of the big dock door being opened and closed. She checked her watch and smiled tightly, touching her wrist nervously. She felt naked without her charm, but Inés needed it much more than her at the moment. However, it seemed as if Oz had arrived just in time.
She hung the axe she had resting on her leg on the wall and walked to the entrance of the stairs, looking around in satisfaction. At least the basement was looking a little more ordered now. It was a huge room, and after the last confrontation they were in need of a few more display cases to have it in good shape. Sounds of steps in the stairs made her look up again, and she smiled nervously at the men coming downstairs, recognizing Pelor immediately.
Pelor stopped at the base of the stairs and looked around suspiciously, then turned back to Oz. “Who is this? I thought we were meeting Alessa.” There was panic in his voice.
Oz moved forward as Pelor bolted back up the stairs. “Wait, Pelor!” he called and looked at the unglamorous middle-aged woman with wide hips, dark unruly hair and glasses. “Alessa?” he asked cautiously.
She looked embarrassed and changed back into Alessa, smoothly. Oz relaxed and Pelor’s knees nearly buckled in relief. “Oh, not trap,” he sighed.
Pelor sidled back into the room as Oz moved aside. The young man who had led them here followed them in and closed the secure door behind them. Oz and Alessa exchanged a hug as Pelor stopped panting and his heartbeat returned to normal. He paced nervously for a few moments to recover his wits. “Not good, not good. Give scare,” he said, talking to himself as he paced.
Alessa disentangled herself from Oz’s embrace and looked guiltily at the demon. She held her skirt from sliding down her much thinner hips and grimaced. “I’m sorry, this was my cousin’s idea of fun. I was mad at her for her last choice of body and she created this one today.” She grinned, “It was easier to keep it than having to hold the clothes in place.”
She took a step closer the demon and studied him intently. She remembered Pelor, but this demon didn’t look much like the Pelor in her memories. However, if he had been in Delancre’s hands at Isla Nublada it wasn’t surprising. She cocked her head and stared into his azure eyes, smiling. “Pelor?” she asked.
Pelor settled his frightened wits and nodded slowly at Alessa. She looked to be in far better shape than he had imagined, at least. She was certainly in better shape than he was, but then that wasn’t hard at the moment. All the weeks of fear and deprivation had led to this instant, when he would stand before his friend. And when he’d learned from Oz about Alessa’s memory loss he realised he would have so much more to explain to her than he’d possibly imagined. Standing before her now, feeling safe for the first time in weeks, Pelor found himself crying.
“Alessa,” he choked out, “There’s so much to tell you. Oz told me, he told me you don’t remember…”
His gaunt frame quivered as he struggled to remain upright in the face of his overwhelming emotions.
Alessa watched helplessly as Pelor broke in front of her and she stepped closer to hold him in her arms. She didn’t remember him but obviously they had shared much at Isla Nublada. Certainly they haven’t been this close in the past. The Brashak’s wide shoulders shook as he fought for control and she tapped his back soothingly.
“You are safe now, Pelor. You are among friends,” she said, steered the demon to a chair. She knelt before him and took his furry hands in hers. “I can’t remember, no. But I remember you.”
Slowly regaining control of himself, Pelor offered a watery smile. “I’m sorry, Alessa. It’s been a hard journey, is all. But not nearly so hard as yours.” He glanced around at Oz and Darian, who were still in the room, then back at Alessa. “Um… is it okay to talk in front of them? Maybe you’d rather we were alone…”
“I can leave if you want me to,” Oz volunteered.
Alessa gaze travelled from Oz to Darian and she quickly spoke. “I trust them, Pelor,” she assured. *Even Darian,* she added to herself. Much as she didn’t like the fae she knew he was trustworthy, in his good guy way. “You can speak freely in front of them, but if you feel safer alone… I’d prefer they stayed, though.”
Oz smiled to himself. He felt good that Alessa stood up for him in front of Pelor. And even though he didn’t know Darian, having her vouch for him said a lot for his character.
Oz turned to Darian and said, “After this, is there anywhere that Pelor can stay tonight? Somewhere safe?”
Darian considered. “There is a storeroom down here we aren’t using. I can set up a cot.”
Oz looked at Pelor then back to Darian. “I suppose it is better than what he’s been used to for the last few weeks. We can get something more permanent soon, I suppose.”
Pelor ducked his head. “All right then.” He squeezed Alessa’s soft hands that rested in his, and began.
“On the trip back, Oz told me you knew you’d been on the island, and that you’d found out some of what happened to you there, but had been told it was renegades running the place. It’s not renegades. It’s Ambrose Delancre who runs that place. It’s his personal training facility for a demon army. And…” Pelor shuddered, and his voice dropped. “And his concubines, and his servants, and his… his ‘toys’.”
He could no longer meet Alessa’s eyes, but he felt her grip tighten. Swallowing, he forced himself to go on, wanting to get it all out and over with as fast as possible. “And that’s not all. He has bigger plans, Alessa. He wants to set himself up as a ruler. He created a virus – Oz told me you have it, but not too badly. You were infected before you left. I only found that out after you’d gone, when Delancre would come to my cell and gloat…”
Unconsciously, Pelor began a slight rocking motion as he remembered his time in the Isla Nublada dungeons. His voice fell even further, becoming a hoarse whisper as he gradually dropped back to pidgin in his distress. “You were sent to infect your friends. I thought I help you escape, but only make worse. Friend Tash, not friend.”
Alessa had been nodding as Pelor spoke. Everything he said fit perfectly with what Nikolai, Kate and herself had already guessed. The renegades hoax, the virus, her part in infecting her friends… But at the mention of Tash’s name her head snapped up and her eyes widened.
“Tash? What do you mean Tash? How do you know her?” she babbled, shooting one question after the other without giving Pelor any time to answer. She started to rise and felt Oz’s strong hand on her shoulder, transmitting some measure of control. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. When she opened them again she found Pelor’s eyes stuck to hers.
“What do you mean, Tash is no friend?” she asked again.
Pelor glanced down and parted his cloak, running his finger along a pale, bare patch on his chest. It looked remarkably like a small knife scar – not so bad, one might think at first glance.
“This is where the knife came out,” Pelor stated quietly. “She came to the island with Delancre. She said she was your friend, and I trusted her. I told her everything about the virus, what it was, how to cure it. Everything. She promised to help me escape, to see you again. But…” He gestured to the scar, and closed up his cloak again, clutching the tattered material to himself as though he was cold.
Darian’s eyes widened at Pelor’s accusation. “She stabbed you in the back?” He sought Alessa’s face, his eyes pleading, “She couldn’t do something like that – could she? Not Tash, not even with how she’s been lately... Could she?” he finished quietly.
Oz looked at Darian incredulously, “Haven’t you dealt with anyone infected with this ‘evil’ disease? Not only could she do it she will do it again. And worse if this isn’t stopped.”
Oz felt a little guilty about making predictions about this ‘Tash’ person he barely knew. That was, assuming it was the same Tash who had rescued him from the aqueduct – which, the way his luck had been running lately, it would have to be. But if there was one thing that Oz knew it was that despite the harsh things he had said to Cole, his recent dealings with the boy had given him the distinct impression that until the kid had been cured he didn’t know him at all. Tash sounded like not only a ruthless and capable person but one that this group of people admired and wanted to save.
Alessa looked at Oz and chewed on her lower lip. Of course Tash would do that and worse – look what had happened with Ellis and Cole. And she had been about to help her see Daye… She shivered. *Well, that’s not going to happen now.* However, learning that Tash had been at Isla Nublada was a shock. She squeezed Pelor’s hand again; this demon had gone through so much, and just to help her.
“I’m sorry you had to go through all this just because of me, Pelor. Tash… Tash is my friend, we just have to cure her, along with many other friends.” She held her breath for a second before asking what she knew was in the others’ minds.
“You said you know how to cure this virus?”
Pelor nodded slowly. “I used to go to lots of places before Delancre… well, before. I didn’t understand it all, but I heard the researchers talking about the virus all the time. They have their own cure – some formula you have to make up and inject. But one time they talked about ‘mana draining’ killing Hyde – that’s the name of the virus. I… I’m sorry, I don’t understand magic well. But Oz told me you have a witch working on the cure. He said you even know that it feeds on mana already.”
He paused for a second, then said hopefully, “Maybe the words I heard will make sense to your witch and she’ll know what to do?”
As Pelor spoke, Darian’s ears pricked up and he took a step forward. His eyes met Alessa’s, and a smile spread over his features. If Pelor really did have the key to draining someone’s mana without killing them, then this could be the breakthrough Kate had been searching for for so long.
“She’s in England at the moment, I’m afraid,” he began, then added quickly as Pelor’s face fell, “but I know a little magic too. Not like hers, but I can pass it on to her if you tell us what you know.”
Pelor looked to Alessa for confirmation, and at her nod he turned to the young man with the purple eyes.
“Well,” he took a deep breath and parroted the words he remembered. “They said first you must ‘stabilise the chi centre’ to ‘isolate the life essence of Hyde from its host’, then form a ‘conduit to an organic surrogate source vessel’. Only then is it safe to, um… I can’t really remember the exact words they used next, but I got the impression they meant removing the mana from the person – but they didn’t really say ‘person’. It was something like ‘siphon through the Hyde-altered lymphocytes’.”
He smiled apologetically and delved back into the phrases he’d practised by rote during the long hours of his journey north, preparing for this moment. “They went on to say that with ‘Hyde as the osmotic filter’ to ‘regulate the mana flow’ the ‘surrogate would retain the chi until the filter becomes unviable’.”
Pelor shrugged. “I really don’t know what any of that means, but they said that the person would revert to ‘unmodified behaviour’ very quickly, though apparently the virus won’t be completely gone for some days. I do remember they said that ‘the host and the surrogate should be isolated from chi-altering circumstances’ during the recovery phase.”
He glanced up at Alessa and Darian. Alessa looked confused, while Darian just stared at him dumbfounded. “Sorry, I lost you after ‘now listen closely’,” the fae remarked.
Oz spoke up, “I understand most of the words, although not in this usage. It is almost like the way you bleed a brake system for air bubbles - only without the return tube. Yeah, it makes sense, although I have no idea how to actually do any of it.”
Darian looked relieved. “The only parts that made sense to me were the conduit and vessel parts. I can’t even say ‘limfomites’.”
“Lymphocytes, Darian. Yeah, between us we can relay it. Even it gets a little garbled in language, the meaning should be clear.”
Alessa smiled at Oz’s mechanic metaphor and his gentle reprimand at Darian’s mistake, and slapped her thighs smiling; things were getting better by the minute. Then she looked at Pelor’s tired face and felt suddenly guilty. They had been accosting the poor demon and he surely was tired and hungry, and he was probably dying for a bath.
“Well, with this thing solved I guess we can turn to more mundane problems.” She smiled brightly and rose to her feet, catching her skirt in the process. “There’s a bathroom on the second floor. It’s not very big, but it has a shower in it. I’ll go there now and prepare it for you, Pelor, while you finish talking your gibberish to the experts here.”
She smiled again. “How does that sound?”
Pelor smiled broadly at his friend. “That would be lovely. I’ve not had a bath in... too long. I’m just glad to see you’re okay. And maybe you can be well soon, of the virus at least. Delancre - well, he’s another problem.” Pelor sighed. “And there’s so much for us to catch up on. Alessa, I have you to thank for my freedom, you know. You may not remember it, but you helped me break free of his hold on me. You saved me.”
Alessa smiled at Pelor. “You’ll have to tell me all about it - after you’ve had a bath and a meal. I’ll be back as soon as it’s ready.” Clutching her overlarge skirt to her hips, Alessa climbed the stairs and disappeared from sight.
*****
Kyle pushed open the front door and stepped into the Armoury, taking a look for any furry, blue-skinned, blue-eyed demons. This was the last place on his list. He had checked Alessa’s place and Poplar Avenue so far, with no success. Either Pelor would be here – according to Moore, a shop owned by an ex-White Hat – or his ass was on the line big time.
Wandering around the shelves, Kyle tried to act as naturally as possible but he knew he looked badly out of place. A nineteen year old probably wasn’t the sort of customer they expected. However, the owner – Reah, Moore had said – seemed too tied up in business to really take notice of him, and there were few other customers. It didn’t take long, then, for him to check every one.
None of them were Pelor.
In growing desperation, Kyle drifted towards the rear of the building. He spotted an employee’s room out the back, what looked like a small kitchen and, just round the back, an inconspicuous door. *Hmmm...*
Kyle checked on the owner. Reah was still busy, but all she had to do was turn her head just a little and she would be able to spot him. Something seemed to be making the woman uneasy, though, by the way her left eye was squinting a little more than the right and her head twitched slightly on her off side, but it was probably just an irritating customer. Kyle smirked as she was now apparently trying to cover the action from the client by scratching behind her ear. Either way, he couldn’t risk making a break for the door. Then luck, it seemed, finally caught up with him. The customer dragged the woman off in another direction, behind a rack of weapons. Now her vision was obscured completely.
The Kaoshian darted out the back and towards the door. He managed to position himself so he was strikingly obvious to everybody in the shop, who were all far too caught up in the business of picking objects with which to kill other people anyway. Once he was fairly certain nobody had spotted him, Kyle leaned in and pressed his ear to the door. Obviously it led to a basement, since from down below he could just make out voices talking. He couldn’t make out exactly what was being said, but one word Kyle definitely picked up on: ‘Pelor’.
He was here, that was certain.
Kyle carefully and quietly opened the basement door. It did indeed lead down to a basement. His certainty was affirmed when he quite clearly heard ‘Pelor’ mentioned again, but the topic of the conversation was lost on him. Not that it was important, anyway. He had found Pelor. Equally carefully, he let the door close behind him. With no roar or battle cry, Kyle leapt down the short staircase. He landed in a roll, came up in demon form and grabbed an axe that hung on the wall. Even before anybody was fully aware of what was going on, a blazing fire-demon was charging right towards Pelor, an axe held in his hand ready to swing.
Pelor squealed and cowered, his chair overturning behind him as he scrabbled to escape this fiery monster bearing down on him. “No…” he moaned. “Nononononono.”
Oz turned and saw the Kaoshian demon rushing forward fully ablaze. Oz turned to the wall of weapons behind him trusting that Darian would defend Pelor, but Oz was closer to the weapons and without them he was as useless as kindling against the fire sweeping into the room. Selecting a long blade similar enough to his familiar angelic blade he turned to see what had happened in that blink of an eye.
As the ex angel rushed for arms, the fae moved to block the path of the blazing assassin. “Get back!” he called, bracing himself for an inevitable battle that would soon ensue.
SWOOSH!
The large axe ‘wooshed’ narrowly above his head, only missing because of the fae’s supernatural speed and agility. “What the hell…!” he mumbled, twisting and turning out of harm’s way, as the mysterious attacker continued swinging relentlessly. Finally, as the axe once again swept passed him harmlessly, Darian leapt forward, slamming his full weight into the fire demon.
On his back on the floor, Pelor watched in mute surprise as these people who barely knew him flung themselves in the way of the axe-wielding fire-demon, risking their lives to defend him. But the blazing creature was almost heedless of any danger to itself, and for all Darian’s speed and Oz’s swinging sword, it still lunged towards Pelor, the axe flashing down in a glittering arc. Pelor was almost hypnotised by the red and yellow flames reflected in the burnished blade, and only at the last minute did his gaze shift to the burning eyes of the demon assigned to murder him. In that second he relaxed. All fear left him as the certainty of his death approached.
Then fiery pain assaulted his senses, and the calm fled as Pelor screamed in agony.
In the shop, Reah’s acute hearing zoomed in on the sounds of distress, and she quickly hustled her last customers out the door. “Closing early tonight. Goodnight, please come again. Yes, we have the best selection in LA. No, put the bloody thing down! You can look at it tomorrow, ok? Sheesh!”
Slamming the front door shut behind her disgruntled clientele, she quickly dashed to the basement door and flung it open, her nose crinkling at the stench of burning. “Fire? Shit, I knew I should have put that frigging sprinkler system in!” She pelted down the stairs to where Darian and Oz grappled with a blazing demon. “How the fuck did that get in without me seeing it?”
Kyle roared in triumph as he saw Pelor’s blood gush over the floor and his body fall limp. But Kyle had been warned by Delancre, and despite the Brashak’s stillness, he wasn’t convinced the blue demon was really dead. Still, there were now three defenders in the room, and he turned to fend off the assaults from Darian and Oz, and to keep half an eye on the new arrival, to see from which quarter she’d attack.
Upstairs, Alessa rummaged about the training room’s lockers until she found a pair of sport pants and a t-shirt that could fit Pelor. They were old and well-worn but at least they were clean, and she knew that the demon would appreciate changing into them anyway. She looked around, arms akimbo, and decided that she’d set the cot up there instead of the storage room. This room was much more cheerful, with streams of light coming from its high yet barred windows, and Pelor needed some cheer in his life now, after the ordeal he had just survived.
She was about to enter the small bathroom when she heard some commotion from the lower level. It didn’t sound like the usual angry customer noise and she frowned. Then she heard Reah shouting the customers out and she was running for the door. The too big skirt slid down her legs and she tripped in it, falling heavily to the floor and cursing Inés in the process. Frantically she kicked the ugly thing off and shook off her high heeled shoes before she jumped up again.
In no time she was running to the door once more, this time unhindered by clothes or footwear, just the overlarge blouse falling over mid-thigh. She grabbed a heavy sword from a table before starting to jump down the stairs by threes. A quick glance around the store level of the Armoury told her what she had already guessed: Reah had whisked all the customers away and had rushed to help in the basement.
“Maldición, maldición, maldición!” she cursed as she ran to the basement door herself. The scene that greeted her was a surprise though. The blazing Kaoshian was just too familiar and she resumed her cursing. *It had to be Kyle, why the hell did it have to be Kyle!* she wondered and she started to descend the stairs, her sword ready.
Without thinking about it, Oz had switched hands, the grip of the sword having grown too hot for his primary grip. As he did so he thought about the odds of there being two Kaoshian demons around LA. *It must be Kyle,* he thought, viciously thrusting the sword into the flame as hard as he could.
A movement from the stairway made Oz glance that way, and while ducking one of Reah’s roundhouse claws he saw it was Alessa. He could feel his blood run cold. *If Kyle sees her here he will kill her or – worse yet – tell Delancre.*
Oz dropped to the floor and rolled sideways as Reah stepped over him and began throwing knives from a display case with deadly accuracy towards the flaming demon, who seemed to be as insubstantial as the flame itself.
Oz scrambled on hands and knees and managed a crouching stumble as he reached the stairs. Alessa barely said “Oz-oof!” as the air in her lungs expelled. He had tucked his shoulder into her midriff and lifted her over his back to carry her up the stairs as fast as he could.
Growling furiously, Darian didn’t even notice as his co-defender left the battle; his complete focus was now concentrated on taking care of the malevolent fiend as quick as possible.
“Murdering bastard!” the fae growled, as he slammed his fist painfully into the fiery skull of his adversary. The flames crackled, charring his hand, but he didn’t care; the demon had to pay. He tried his best to defend himself, but Darian had over two centuries of experience to fall back on, and it was clear that the Kaoshian was outmatched.
“Asshole!” the teen spat, as Darian painfully grabbed onto his wrists and began to squeeze. Agony sped through Kyle’s hands, and the axe fell limply from his grip. “Holy sh…” The teen yelped in surprise as his adversary’s eyes began to glow an icy shade of blue. “What are you doing?”
Darian didn’t bother answering, instead allowing Evexus’ ice magic to wash over his body and onto the Kaoshian. What was at first only a slight drop in temperature began to grow colder and colder, and within seconds the faery’s spell was sure to put out Kyle’s fire.
“Sto…. st… stop” the teen cried in pain, as the chilling spell forced him momentarily back into human form. It was at that time that Darian’s iron-like grip relaxed completely.
“Oh God...” Darian whispered, stumbling back in horror. The assassin was none other than the boy at the mansion. The fae’s knees grew wobbly as he looked down at his bloody hands – it was a kid’s blood. He had been beating on a kid.
The momentary pause was all Kyle needed. Reah wasn’t nearly so hung up about his age as Darian, but as his fire rekindled it forced her back from where she’d been closing in to grapple with him. With Darian staring at his hands in shock, Reah shielding herself from his heat, and Oz having apparently chickened out of the fight, Kyle discovered he had a space around him. And the others were no longer defending what they thought of as a corpse.
Kyle suspected otherwise, and swung his axe solidly again and again into Pelor’s sprawled body. ’I want you to be absolutely certain he is dead, Mr Ashton. If that demon comes back again I will be most irritated – do I make myself clear?’ Kyle smiled at the memory of Delancre’s words. Oh yeah, he’d been clear all right. And Kyle wasn’t about to go back without that certainty. With Pelor now hacked into an unrecognisable mass of bits, bone and blood, Kyle loosened his grip on the axe and swung his tail around to touch the tip of it to the carcass.
Phwooosh! The blue pelt caught flame quickly, and soon the stench of cooking meat filled the basement.
“Yaaaaarrrrrrggghh!” Reah slammed her claws into Kyle’s back, sending him reeling. She no longer cared about the searing heat that scorched her arms and face. “Fucking bastard, you bastard!” she yelled as she pounded him repeatedly, each time harder than the last. With each blow Kyle’s fires dimmed slightly, and Reah grinned.
Darian bared his teeth and joined her. No matter that Kyle was still really just a kid – nobody deserved the sort of death Pelor had just endured. Over Kyle’s shoulder, Darian could still see Pelor’s remains burning sullenly, the blue fur charred black. Narrowing his eyes, he threw all his weight behind a punch that caught Kyle’s jaw and snapped his head around. The Kaoshian’s fires were almost out now and blood ran freely down his face and from deep gashes in his back and chest from Reah’s claws.
Reah’s eyes burned with a fierce intensity as she concentrated all her being into killing this assassin. She didn’t know Pelor, had never so much as seen him except for a brief glimpse of dark cloak through the window of Oz’s truck. But that wasn’t the point. Pelor was the next best thing to the ‘good guy’ as far as she was aware, and she hadn’t been able to give a good caning to the metaphoric ‘evil prick’ in ages! It felt good.
That and, of course, she knew he was a friend of Alessa’s and how much he’d struggled to reach her with supposedly vital information. That fuelled her determination to exact vengeance on this murderous demon, as she persisted unyieldingly to rain blow after blow upon him.
Reah’s claws came swiping down again and Kyle, too battered and bloody, thought they would finish him. But he managed to summon his last reserves of energy and parry with his axe and everything he had. The blow jarred his arm and almost made him lose his grip on the axe, but for a minute he had this woman off balance – and he put the time to good use.
Another burst of strength accompanied a cry; he thrust with the axe, knocking the woman backwards, and swiped at the Darian before he could take advantage. Darian ducked under the axe and kicked Kyle in the shin, dropping the battered demon down onto one leg. Fortunately for Kyle, it meant he avoided losing his head to Reah’s blades, and she was once again off-balance and toppling to one side, though recovering quickly.
Kyle put his tail into her face, ignoring the shock that ran down from its tip right up to his spine. Although dying, the sputtering fire was enough to make Reah cry out and pull away, cutting deep gouges into Kyle’s tail at the same time. Kyle yelled in pain, even as he rose to his feet and nearly took Darian’s nose off with the axe. The fae didn’t let him off this time, and whilst the demon was blinded with agony he stepped around the axe and hit him twice - forcing Kyle back towards Reah.
Flowing through the rhythm of the fight, Reah parried away as the demon’s stumbling opened him wide up for her arm to hook right around and strike him with a solid crack to the back of his head with her de-clawed fist. Even as he caved to the ground, though, she didn’t relent. Instead, straddling the kid’s body tightly between her legs, she pulled back with glinting claws ready out of knuckled hands for a bloody assault to his temples when she suddenly felt her attack fall short by some interfering force that ripped her off him.
“Darian! What the fuck?!”
“He’s just a kid!”
Reah’s eyes narrowed. “News flash fairy-boy, being a kid means shit all in this time, let alone 2060. And this just in: HE’S A DEMON!!!”
Darian kept his grip firmly on Reah’s arm. “Yeah, he’s a demon, Reah. And I have an evil fae inside me, and you’ve got all those cybernetic enhancements. So what? It’s that damn Delancre that’s done this to him! We can’t just kill him – he’s only a kid,” Darian repeated in desperation.
Kyle suddenly found himself free of attack, and leapt off the ground to back away. Sometime during the pummelling – from Darian or Reah, he couldn’t be sure – his fire had almost died completely, and forced him back into human form. Nervously, he glanced from one face to the other, but they seemed too concerned with arguing ethics. Without waiting a further second, he leapt for the stairs and limped his way out of the basement as fast as he could.
He rattled the front door, but it was locked and he had no time to find a back exit. Frantically looking around for something to use, he grabbed a sturdy-looking stool and flung it with all his flagging strength at the window beside the door. Fragments of glass showered over him and without so much as a backwards glance he stumbled away from the Armoury.
Below, Reah and Darian suddenly broke off their bickering at the crashing sound from the shop, and Reah growled low in her throat. “Fuckin’-”
Taking a half-hearted swipe at Darian as chastisement, Reah bound up the stairs. Darian, relieved that the debate was moot, followed to find her standing with her fists on her hips in the middle of the shop, surveying the jagged bits of glass remaining in the frame and the shards that covered the floor.
“Shit!” Reah exploded. “So who’s going to pay for the fucking damage this time?”
*****
“OZ!” Alessa gasped. Once her lungs filled again she shifted frantically in his arms, her legs kicking and her fists pounding, although not with enough force to hurt him. She had lost the grip on her sword and it clattered down the stairs as Oz crossed the door and kept running towards the back of the store.
“Let me down, Oz!” But he was not relenting and she shook herself free at last, almost throwing Oz in the process. The moment she was on her feet she started towards the basement again. She was frantic; she needed to help in the fight and she didn’t pause to think of Oz’s reasons for stopping her.
Oz pulled her back with a grunt - forgetting for a moment how much stronger she was. “Don’t go back down there, if Kyle - yes, Kyle - recognises you he will kill you, or worse yet report back to Delancre that his little plaything is double-timing him.”
Oz had to really lean into her, her instincts to save Pelor overriding the sense in his argument. “Listen, you can’t be here if he comes running out that door! Your life would be forfeit and Delancre’s entire army would be after you and then us - in that order!”
Alessa stopped struggling as Oz’s words got through to her. She looked blankly at him for a couple of seconds and then her eyes turned to the open basement door, from where sounds of fighting were still coming. She looked back to Oz then, and the fear in his eyes finally hit her. He was right, Kyle couldn’t see her, but…
“But Pelor… Kyle is…” She looked at the door again, frustration filling her. She needed to see to Pelor’s safety, but she’d be putting all her other friends in risk if Kyle saw her, Oz was right.
He pressed, “Pelor might not survive this time, but Reah and Darian are defending him for all they are worth. If he doesn’t make it, he will be avenged, I can assure you; but right now your presence is endangering all of us, not to mention Inés. Hurry! Get going!”
Oz turned back to see if Kyle was coming up from the basement. He could hear the fight continuing after a short pause and the smell of burning flesh assaulted Oz’s nostrils. He looked back in shock to see Alessa’s more sensitive olfactory sense register what he had. “I’m sorry, Alessa, but mourn later. Go!”
Alessa was shocked. She could smell it, oh yes, and all her instincts told her to rush down there and help. One of her friends was being burnt and she couldn’t do anything to prevent it. A shake from Oz brought her back to reality and she looked at him one last time.
“Go now!” he yelled again and she could only nod. She squeezed Oz’s arms and turned around. Tears had started to fall as she rolled up the big dock door enough so she could slide beneath it and leave the store.
Oz watched her staggering across the parking lot long enough to assure himself that she wasn’t going to be blind-sided by anyone sent with Kyle that might be waiting outside, and then was startled to hear a smash as Kyle threw a chair through the large plate-glass window at the front of the store. *God, protect Alessa,* he prayed, *and make that bastard Kyle pay - in your mercy.*
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Friday, 25th May 2007 – 7:10pm
The Peninsula Beverly Hills Hotel
Tash was sure the taxi driver must think she was crazy. For almost the entire journey she’d been sitting in the cab muttering to herself. Still, she didn’t care what he thought, so long as he got her to where she was going on time. Tapping one foot nervously she began her sotto voce mantra once more.
“I’m a vampire hunter. I’ve faced all sorts of fearsome things and come out okay. What’s so tough about this? It’s not like I’ve never done this before – I’ll be fine. Nothing to be afraid of.”
Still, she jumped slightly when the driver announced the fare. She fished in the small clutch purse she carried for some money and handed him a generous amount. “Keep the change.”
She alighted from the taxi and drew in a deep breath. Balancing on the three inch stiletto heels, she walked carefully towards the hotel and inside. She was highly self-conscious of the way the bright red dress swirled about her legs as she walked, the only part that moved freely. The rest hugged her body snugly, the red giving her dark skin a warm glow. She felt a little too forward in wearing such a dress tonight, and a part of her regretted her decision to buy it. But it had seemed to call to her, and other customers in the shop had remarked how stunning she looked in it. Still, she just wished it didn’t go quite so low at the back, or that it was a little less figure-revealing.
Breathing deeply once more, she made her way deliberately up to Onyx’s suite and knocked firmly upon the door. She wondered if the demon was suffering from nerves too – certainly Tash had never seen Onyx look anxious, but you never knew. All she did know was that her own stomach was full of butterflies, and once more she berated herself for feeling like a kid on her first date.
Tash’s powers had as always announced her to Onyx long before the knock on the door and Onyx had taken those few moments to check her preparations. The selection of Thai style finger foods were warming gently in the oven and her main course was prepared. The harsh electric lighting of the room had been replaced with a few carefully placed candles. The warm glow they cast through the room was far more inviting. With one final glance around Onyx moved to the door to her suite, letting the indigo silk of her long oriental style dress whisper against her skin.
Onyx opened the door with a smile. “Tash.” Her voice held a warmth and desire that hadn’t been there in previous meetings. Onyx stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Tash before placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. Onyx broke off, letting her hand trail over the skin Tash’s dress revealed.
“Come in,” Onyx said, drawing Tash by the hand into the suite.
Tash willingly followed Onyx inside, and savoured not only the delicious aroma of cooking food that filled the suite, but also the lingering sensation of Onyx’s fingers upon her skin. The mood was electric, and Tash had the feeling that some corner was about to be turned tonight – had perhaps known that from the time Onyx had made her invitation for dinner. She tried not to let her gaze linger too long on the woman, instead turning her attention towards her olfactory senses.
“Hmm, smells divine in here.” Tash sniffed, trying to place the spices. “Malaysian or Thai?”
“Thai.”
Onyx showed Tash to the table and offered her a chair before returning to the kitchen. A wave of the hand was enough to remove the stasis spell of the appetisers and Onyx carried out the tray of spicy fish cakes, chicken satay, stir fried tamarind shrimp and variety of sauces and dips. Onyx set the tray down before Tash and settled into her own chair.
“Wine?”
“Yes, please.”
Sinking her teeth into the morsels arrayed before her, Tash closed her eyes, transported in heavenly raptures at the taste. “These are just perfect. Gods, did you learn to cook in Thailand itself or something? Hmm, and these… oh God, they’re incredible!”
Conversation lapsed for a few moments as Tash sampled the delicacies and sipped at her wine. After she’d tried at least one of everything – and several of most – she sat back and watched Onyx as she dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. A slow smile crept over Tash’s face, and her eyes sparkled as she spoke.
“So, this is just the appetiser? I can’t wait for main course.”
Onyx took a moment to sip her wine then fixed Tash with a smouldering look. “The main course is chicken and ginger.” Her voice dropped to a smoky whisper, “But wait till dessert…”
“Only if I have to.”
Tash marvelled at how quickly her nervousness from the taxicab had dissipated as soon as she was alone with Onyx. Facing her across the candlelit table, a spicy aftertaste in her mouth from the appetisers and the coolness of a fine wine washing it all down, Tash felt more at ease now than she had in weeks. The subterfuge she was maintaining at the mansion was taking its toll on her, she knew. Here, at least, she could relax and be herself. For just a few hours her plans to usurp Delancre’s position could retreat to the background and she could concentrate on more immediate pleasures.
Something fell into place inside her, and Tash began to wonder if perhaps Onyx could help to fill that hole she’d felt ever since Victor had stayed on G’rnatha. She knew Onyx had asked her to talk about Victor, but she didn’t think this was the time, even though now she was ready to. Instead, she took one more sip of her wine and though she still looked at Onyx, her eyes unfocused slightly as her thoughts turned to times past.
Onyx smiled at Tash’s reply but then as her gaze lost focus Onyx repressed an answering sigh. Even in the midst of a blatant and apparently welcome seduction thoughts of her soul mate were not far from Tash’s mind. Even after a few gentle suggestions Tash had not been forthcoming on the subject and even if that had changed, unfortunately now wasn’t the best time to discuss it – though if Tash really felt the need to unburden herself Onyx would oblige her.
She reached across the table and took Tash’s hand in a gentle grip. Tash’s gaze sharpened at the contact and Onyx spoke quietly. “What is it?”
Shaking off the last vestiges of the slight melancholy that had descended upon her, Tash smiled and shook her head.
“Nothing. In fact,” her smile warmed as she squeezed Onyx’s hand in return, “I think things are about to become a whole lot better, in many ways.”
“Good, now I have to go cook…”
Onyx released Tash’s hand and went to the kitchen area. While the wok heated to the requisite temperature Onyx pulled the ingredients from the refrigerator. When the oil on in the wok began to smoke Onyx started, and what followed was a balletic example of cooking with each ingredient transferred to the wok at just the right point. In minutes the food had been prepared and Onyx transferred the dish to two plates of sticky rice. She returned to the table and deposited one of the plates before Tash.
“Enjoy,” she said with a playful smile.
“I did already, just watching you prepare it,” Tash laughed. “It was more like a dance than cooking. And,” she inhaled deeply, “it smells gorgeous.”
She lifted up her fork in one hand and her glass of wine in the other. “To a beautiful meal and a beautiful evening with a beautiful… friend,” Tash toasted, and held her glass out.
“To beauty.” Onyx raised her own glass and clinked it against Tash’s before sipping her wine and watching Tash over the rim of her glass.
Tash took her first mouthful of dinner and chewed slowly, letting the flavours mix in her mouth, the cool crispness of the vegetables complemented by the piquancy of the ginger sauce. The chicken pieces were so tender they practically melted in her mouth, and after her first bite Tash stopped and gazed at Onyx.
“I’m sorry, I was totally wrong about this meal. It’s not beautiful at all.”
A brief flash of surprise appeared in Onyx’s eyes. “Oh?”
“No,” Tash grinned as she collected another forkful. “It’s glorious.”
Onyx blushed at Tash’s superlative and ducked her head in embarrassment. “I’ve just had a lot of practice, that’s all.”
Onyx ate her food with a little less gusto than Tash but she enjoyed the fruits of her labour nonetheless. Real food was one thing she would miss about her human form. While Tash continued to rapturise over the meal, Onyx smiled. She slipped off a shoe and gently ran her foot along Tash’s calf. “So, how have things been?”
“Oh, going okay. Marcus had me help him with a truly ambitious project the other day, but I’m sure you know all about that.” Tash wasn’t about to go into details of her business at the mansion, not even with Onyx, and not even when the promise in Onyx’s soft touch sent shivers down her spine.
She pushed her plate aside and set down her nearly-empty glass of wine. Somehow during the course of the meal they had finished off the entire bottle. Resting her head on her hands as she contemplated the woman sitting opposite her, Tash sighed in contentment.
“But I’m not really in the mood to talk about work tonight,” she added, her eyes twinkling. “And I do believe you mentioned something about dessert.”
Onyx rose with a smile and padded around to Tash. She drew the other woman out of her chair and enveloped her in a loose embrace. Bending down a little she brushed her lips over Tash’s ear. “Well, I think we can let the main course settle first. Unless you really must have my mango sorbet.” Onyx let her hands caress Tash’s hip while her lips gently nuzzled at her neck.
Closing her eyes, Tash let her head fall back as Onyx’s ministrations sent shivers down her spine. Unable to contain herself any longer, she wrapped her own hands around Onyx’s slight waist and pulled her closer, feeling the heat as their two bodies met. The material of their dresses was the only thing keeping them apart, and Tash let her fingers roam over Onyx’s back, caressing her neck and shoulders even as she found the zipper and lowered it a few inches.
Finding her voice at last, Tash spoke huskily. “Did you say mango sorbet?”
Onyx continued to lavish her attention on Tash’s shoulders and neck, pressing teasing kisses against her skin. When she felt Tash’s hands still at the back of her neck, Onyx shifted, rubbing her body delicately against Tash’s. The soft groan Onyx’s gambit elicited caused the demon to smile lazily and, kissing the corner of Tash’s mouth, she replied to Tash’s half-forgotten question.
“Yes.”
Responding to Onyx’s light kiss with a firmer one of her own, Tash lowered the zipper on Onyx’s silk dress all the way and pushed the indigo fabric from her shoulders. Kicking off her high heels, Tash used the three inches it lowered her to gain better access to the breasts thus freed. Her tongue circled them without straying too close to the sensitive nipples – yet.
Pulling her head back, Tash glanced up at Onyx’s half-closed eyes. “Then I think it’s time for dessert,” she said with a sly smile. “Since you’re the hostess you probably should serve it. But,” Tash tugged at the loosened material of Onyx’s dress, “I don’t think you need this any more.”
“Well, if you insist.”
Onyx stepped back and the dress puddled at her feet. Her modesty spared by only a scrap of lace, Onyx moved unselfconsciously to the kitchen area, completely ignoring the hungry look Tash gave her almost naked body. Retrieving the frozen dessert was a matter of moments but rather than bowls Onyx merely collected a couple of spoons. Tash, it seemed, wanted to play. It was an idea Onyx certainly was not averse to.
She pouted slightly when she returned to Tash. “Someone isn’t observing the new dress code.” Onyx set the sorbet down and reached down to run her hand over the expanse of thigh left exposed by the slit in Tash’s dress. Her hand grasped the material. “Was this terribly expensive?”
Tash laughed delightedly. Onyx had picked up her intent clearly, and she placed her own hand over the one that clutched the hem of her dress. “Actually, it was, but I don’t care.”
The anticipation was driving Tash mad, and she moistened her lips as she thought of Onyx tearing the dress from her forcefully. She fixed her eyes on Onyx’s and gasped as the demoness began to slowly rip the fabric. Expecting a sudden rending, Tash quivered at the deliberation with which Onyx worked. Onyx moved her hands higher up the dress, her fingertips lightly brushing Tash’s thigh as she grasped fresh handfuls of material.
The tearing sound cut through Tash like a knife, as did the slow easing of the constraint in which she’d been held. She longed to be naked, but Onyx prolonged the act as long as possible. By the time the dress was torn to her waist, Tash’s knees were beginning to buckle and wetness seeped from her. Finally, after an agonisingly long time, the shredded satin fluttered to the carpet and Tash felt a cool breeze from the air conditioner brush past her body, raising goosebumps.
A trembling sigh passed her lips, and she reached for the container of sorbet. With a glint in her eyes she advanced on Onyx, brandishing a spoon, and pressed her body against the other woman’s. Onyx slowly gave way, until Tash had manoeuvred her to the sofa. With a sly smile on her lips, Onyx lay back on the sofa, presenting herself as a platter for Tash to use.
Spooning a dollop of sorbet onto Onyx’s exposed stomach, Tash heard the indrawn breath at the cold, and noted the goosebumps that rose on the woman’s flesh. She placed the container on the end table and swiftly knelt beside the couch. Beginning at the outer edges, she slowly licked up the melting rivulets of mango sorbet that were starting to run down Onyx’s side.
Onyx couldn’t suppress a shiver as the chill from the sorbet spread through her abdomen then she gasped as Tash licked a warm, wet line along her side. As Tash circled the melting, sticky mass of dessert with her tongue, Onyx reached down to grasp Tash’s head in her hands, then moved to draw one of Tash’s hands to cover Onyx’s breast. Onyx gasped, heaved and shuddered as sensation flooded through her: the cold of the sorbet, the warmth of Tash’s mouth, the maddening teasing of Tash’s fingertips on her inner thighs and the rhythmic caress upon her breast. The assault on her senses continued till Tash pressed her tongue into Onyx’s navel.
With the first spoonful of sorbet gone, Onyx’s hands pulled Tash’s head upwards. Onyx thrust her tongue into Tash’s mouth, mercilessly seeking out every trace of sweet juice. She repositioned them, moving atop Tash and pressing her lover into the soft cushions of the sofa. Breaking the kiss, Onyx reared up and smiled down at Tash before reaching out for a spoon and depositing a dollop of sorbet between Tash’s breasts. The icy desert vanished quickly but Onyx moved on to Tash’s breasts, kissing and suckling them while her hands slipped lower and lower.
The container of sorbet fell to the floor, forgotten, as Tash gasped with mounting ecstasy and writhed on the couch under Onyx’s delicate touch. Her hands reached down to fondle Onyx’s dangling breasts, but then Onyx stopped her ministrations and Tash mewled in disappointment.
She lifted her head to see what the problem was, and met Onyx’s grinning face. “This way,” she offered, and grasped Tash’s wrist.
Tash followed her eagerly to the bedroom, and as she passed the threshold Tash pushed the door with her foot, shutting out the devastation they’d made in the living room. Sorbet slowly melted into the carpet, but neither Tash nor Onyx spared it a thought.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Friday, May 25th 2007 - 5:20 pm
It was several blocks away from the Armoury when Alessa noticed the glares she was receiving from the people on the street, and she smiled in spite of herself. She must be quite a sight indeed; crying, barefoot and with an oversized blouse as her only garment. She had even forgotten to change her aspect again, which was not only careless but dangerous.
‘Not to mention Inés,’ Oz had said, and he was right, she couldn’t endanger her cousin so. She chewed her lip as she kept walking, slowly changing her features so the pedestrians wouldn’t notice. Lenghten her nose, narrow her mouth, diminish her eyes, shorten her hair… a couple of blocks more and she wasn’t Alessa any more.
But clothes were still a problem, she didn’t want the police to pick her up for soliciting. She didn’t have any money or transportation either, and time was vital.
She thought of her friends. Darian, Reah and Oz were still in the Armoury and she didn’t dare to go back there. Cole should be home, but she didn’t want to approach the kid without knowing if Darian was still alive… besides, she didn’t dare to go to Poplar either, not after what she had learnt about Tash. If she only could reach Nikolai…
With that thought she hurried into a phone booth, and after forcing the coin receptacle open she called her friend, nervously tapping on the phone while she waited for his response. Her legs almost gave under her when she heard the familiar voice on the other side of the wire.
“Nikolai? Gracias a Dios I found you. Could you please pick me up? I need to get back to the mansion immediately.” She almost cried in relief at his positive response, and after giving him the address she hung up, crouched inside the booth and prepared to wait for him.
***
From Nikolai’s Monte Carlo, Alessa looked up the street at the mansion gates, and frowned. She had to get in now, not an easy feat. Only the emergency of Pelor’s arrival had led her to take so many risks, to herself and to her cousin. Kyle could get back any time, and she didn’t know what Delancre might do when he learnt of Oz having been with Pelor.
She didn’t dare to take the form of any of the personnel either; she didn’t know who was and who wasn’t inside already. Neither did she want to take the form of one of her friends. To use the same strategy twice may prove not very intelligent.
“What are you going to do?” Nikolai asked, noticing her worry.
“I don’t know, but I need to get in. Inés is in more danger by the minute.”
“How did you get out?” he asked then, trying to approach the problem by logic.
“I turned into a dog and slipped past the gates.” She smiled at his look of surprise and added, “I’m a girl of many talents.”
“Indeed,” he agreed. Then he asked, “Why don’t you do the same again? Sounds like a good way in.”
“Yeah…” she answered, not very convinced. Inés had got inside the mansion in animal form; a skinny dog that had slipped past the gates. Once inside she had changed again into a servant demon and hurried towards the swimming pool, where Alessa had been waiting for her. She had hidden the clothes for her to wear in the same gazebo Alessa had used after that demon's escape. But she wasn’t very happy to repeat the experience; she had had more time to change into a dog earlier, she didn’t have that time now. However, it seemed that she didn’t have any other option either.
“I will have to,” she said, trying to sound convincing. She smiled at him while she started unbuttoning her blouse. “Now, can you turn while I do it?” She winked, “I’ll try not to leave dog hairs on your seats.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Friday, 25th May 2007 – 5:42pm
Ambrose Delancre’s Study, LA
Once more, Kyle threw open the doors to Delancre’s office. There were three differences. This time he winced in pain as his arms stretched out, and splattered blood was left on the carpet in his wake. The other difference was that Delancre sat with his arms folded on his desk, waiting for him.
For the most part, the office was pitched in darkness. Only a single lamp on Delancre’s desk provided any illumination.
“Ah, Mr. Ashton. Right on time. I trust everything went smoothly?”
Kyle ignored Delancre’s words, stepping into the light. He was bruised, bloody and battered. Every step he took caused pain, hinting at several broken ribs. His left wrist throbbed, was probably broken, and had swollen to almost the same size as his swollen eye. Numerous other minor wounds could be glimpsed through his torn, tattered and shredded clothing, which was caked with his own, dried blood.
Stepping through the light, Kyle continued round the desk and hauled Delancre up by the front of his suit, thumping him back down on the desk with strength fuelled only by rage. Caught by surprise, Delancre stuttered for a moment. “Mr. Ashton! What the Hell do you think you are doing?!?”
“You tricked me!” Kyle roared back right into his face. “You sent me into a god-damned mother-fucking trap, and you knew it!” Even as the demon spoke those words, demonic guards began filling the room and quickly surrounding him.
But before they could make a move, Delancre whispered a few words of power and Kyle found himself propelled back up against the wall with such force it visibly dented under the impact. “Mr. Ashton! I suggest you compose yourself before addressing me like that again!”
Kyle snarled. “You sonofabitch, Delancre. You knew what I was going into, you sent me to my death!”
Delancre stood up and dusted himself down, then shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“I swear, you let me go and kill them all or I’ll-”
The First Elder cut him off and whirled on him violently. “Or you will what? You are in no position to make demands any longer, Kaoshian. I have tolerated you up until now, but no more. And as for whoever did this to you… that is not your concern any more.”
He turned to see Moore enter the room. “Ah, Hollis, greetings. I thought you would want to watch." Delancre turned back to Kyle, still pinned up against the wall. “Is Pelor dead? Answer me truthly, you have been warned."
"Yes," the boy managed to say, but it was more like a snarl.
"Well, Kaoshian, you should be glad. Despite your significant injuries, you have been successful. However, this… this disrespectful, rebellious behaviour cannot continue on such a course any more. It is time we stepped up to the next stage of your conditioning.” He nodded to several demons. “Take him.”
“Conditioning? Conditioning?!?” Kyle exclaimed as the words registered. The demons grabbed his arms and legs, preventing him from breaking free, but he struggled like hell anyway. “What the hell have you done to me, Delancre?! Tell me! You mother-fucker! Let me go! I’m going to fucking kill all of them and you!” His screams and shouts continued out into the hallway until the soundproof doors closed behind the leaving demon guards.
Only Moore remained. He stepped up to the desk as Delancre sat down. “My Lord, are you sure sending Mr. Ashton was quite the right idea?”
“Well, in light of our earlier failure, yes,” Delancre replied, rearranging his desk. “Once the next stage of Mr. Ashton’s conditioning is complete he will be ready. Think of it like this: that demon is a rogue cannonball, and I’ve just aimed him at the last opposing members of the former White Hates. By the end of the week, one or the other will be dead. It’s a win-win situation.”
Moore nodded. If Kyle died, then with Ms. Brookes’ necromancy they’d gain another valuable, totally obedient soldier. If one of the others died, then the other side was another soldier down. As Delancre said, a win-win situation. He turned to leave.
“Oh, Hollis?” Delancre asked just before he stepped out. “Did the Kaoshian kill Pelor?”
“I am fairly certain he would not lie about such a thing, my Lord,” Moore replied, “but a thorough interrogation of Mr. Ashton will settle it.”
“Good,” the First Elder replied, then lapsed into silence so deep and long Moore thought it was his place to leave. But then Delancre spoke quietely and steadily. “We need to find out if Pelor revealed anything of importance, Moore. I expect you to take care of this matter personally.”
“Of course, my Lord,” Moore replied. “I shall conduct the interrogation myself.”
After excusing himself and stepping out the office, Moore followed the same route the demon gaurds had taken Kyle, to where the Kaoshian was being made 'comfortable' in the real facility.
Happiness is...
***Friday, 25 May 2007 – 8:23pm UK Time
The Coven of Sindell, Warwick, England***
(12:23pm Pacific Time – Los Angeles Time)
Kate cried out loudly as her moans accumulated into one long finale. She squeezed her thighs tightly around her husband; holding on to the headboard for support with both hands as her whole body trembled with the most intense orgasm she’d ever felt.
Galen held Kate firmly beneath his grasp, his hands resting on her hips as she continued to ride him, her entire body shuddering with the most powerful culmination he’d ever seen. She held him in a vice-grip between her legs, her breathing ragged and her cheeks flushed a bright pink while her breasts hung at a tempting elevation just above his face as she braced herself against the headboard.
The sight of her so affected combined with the stimulating feelings she was creating was enough to push Galen over the edge that he’d been trying so desperately to stay atop of for the past twenty minutes. He screwed up his eyes as he felt those familiar heated, urgent sensations grow stronger and more forceful, his hold on Kate tightening as she worked to bring him the same kind of pleasure he'd given her. It wasn’t long before his own gratified moans also filled the room.
Exhausted, Kate sank into Galen’s arms; her legs still wrapped around him as they enjoyed the warm, tingling satisfaction of their afterglow. Kate rested her cheek against her lover’s chest as she wound her arms beneath him, holding him close. She loved these moments after they made love, her body still buzzing with the after effects of a toe-curling climax, curled up in her husband’s arms.
“Wow…” she mumbled almost dreamily with a heavy sigh as she attempted to catch her breath. “Now that was really…”
“…I know,” agreed an equally exhausted Galen, wrapping an arm around Kate’s back to hold her body even closer. It felt so good just to lie together like this, completely relaxed and at ease with one another. He could feel her soft breasts pressed comfortably against his chest, rising and falling with each breath, feel the rhythmic beat of her heart next to his own, feel her silken hair spread out across his bare skin… he was in heaven.
As Kate gently disentangled herself with a reluctant sigh to lay by his side, Galen turned his head to gaze at her, grinning at her positively dishevelled and debauched appearance. “You look so… amazing,” he sighed, reaching out and brushing his fingers against the edge of her flushed cheeks.
Kate smiled as she returned her husband’s gaze, lying on her side as she made herself more comfortable in the tangled bedsheets. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk for at least a week,” she laughed tiredly, running her fingers through Galen’s ruffled hair and tenderly wiping a line of perspiration from his forehead. “You’ve completely worn me out.”
Galen chuckled as he stretched out in the large, comfortable bed. They had spent most of the past four hours making love and he was rapidly running out of energy too, despite his lust and desire for his wife still remaining unsatiated. “I can’t believe that we finally… I mean I was beginning to think that the two of us would never…”
Kate laughed again and rolled over on to her stomach, resting her chin on her hand. “Me neither…” Kate blushed even more as she thought about all that they’d done in the past four hours and lazily traced a pattern of circles on Galen’s bare chest with the tip of her index finger, “…but I’m glad we did, very glad… Especially that thing where you lifted me and did that tilting thing, that was…” Kate hunched her shoulders up and shivered in delight. “Oh, that was wonderful…” she laughed, tapping her fingers in a playful dance against Galen’s chest. “Somebody’s been reading his copy of the Karma Sutra.”
Galen chuckled, running his hand down Kate’s naked back and tangling his fingers in her hair as he played with her glossy curls. “You liked that one huh?”
“Oh blessed Selene…” Kate sighed happily, holding her hand against her head and disarranging her hair as she continued to tingle all over with such a delicious indulgence it was taking all her concentration just to form a coherent sentence. “I swear… I think I blacked out for a moment there… I mean… I’m not just imagining it am I?” she asked with a slight smile, “It’s never been like that before has it?”
“Well I always thought we did pretty good…” said Galen with a false expression of disappointment.
Kate narrowed her eyes playfully. “You know what I mean,” she chided him with a small laugh, running a hand leisurely across her husband’s lean chest, her fingers tracing the edges of a scar on his right shoulder.
She sighed languidly, suppressing a concerned frown. “Don’t you maybe feel just a tiny bit guilty?” she asked after a while, “I mean… here we are…” she smiled coyly, “enjoying ourselves and back home…” Kate sighed again as she thought about what might be happening in Los Angeles, of Koyla and Tash still infected with Hyde, of Alessa still playing the part of Delancre’s willing concubine, of Daye being held his prisoner…
“No… I don’t,” confessed Galen after a moment’s contemplation. “We’ve been through hell these past few months. I don’t think we should feel bad simply because things are finally working out for us.” Galen trailed his hand down the smooth curve of Kate’s spine, eventually resting in the small of her back. “If I’ve learnt anything it’s that no matter how bad you get hurt, the world doesn’t stop for your grief. We’ve had it tough,” he said thoughtfully, stroking her bare flesh in silent reflection, “and I refuse to feel guilty for spending a few hours being… intimate, with my wife.”
“Hmmm,” sighed Kate agreeably as she continued to run her hands slowly across Galen’s naked body, taking great pleasure in just being able to touch him so freely. The completely loneliness and sorrow that she’d felt in the past few months seemed almost to subside as she lay there with him, their bodies entwined together in a post-coital haze of contentment and love. She could almost believe that things would turn out okay, that she could return to Los Angeles and rescue Amanda, cure everyone of Hyde and take on Ambrose Delancre.
But more importantly, she felt like she had something worth fighting for again. That perhaps there WAS something left in the world that she could yet hold on to. That feeling brought a different kind of comfort to Kate, it was like she’d had new life breathed into her flesh.
Kate mumbled incoherently as she leaned low and began to trail a path of soft, yet eager kisses across her husband’s body. “Well,” she sighed, “if you put it like that…”
Galen moaned quietly as Kate took his nipple into her mouth, rolling her tongue against it, her silky hair falling forward and tickling against his skin. He sighed, cradling the back of her head as she continued to service him with her most enjoyable attentions. “Oh honey…” he groaned. “Please… I think I need a few… a few minutes at least before I can go again…”
Kate halted her kisses and slowly looked up at her husband from beneath lush, red tendrils with wide, innocent eyes, her lips pouting in a playful manner. “Do you really want me to stop…?” she asked sweetly. “Are you really, really sure?”
“Oh, please don’t,” complained Galen, stroking Kate’s cheek gently. “Don’t look at me like that you know I can’t-”
“Oh but you can… I know you can…” insisted Kate with a smile, lowering her lips to meet Galen’s warm, naked flesh again. “Just think of how long it’s been… how much we’ve waited…” she asserted between kisses as she moved ever lower towards her ultimate purpose. “…How much time we have to make up for…”
“Oh… god…” sighed Galen in absolute bliss as Kate moved under the sheets, he let his hand slide down to rest on the back of her shoulder, feeling the slight muscle tone of her vigorous young body tighten and relax beneath his touch. “Oh god, Kate…” he groaned in enjoyment, as muffled moans sounded from under the sheets, growing in urgency as the minutes passed. “How can you still have the energy to do this? I swear… it, it’s not natural…”
Eventually, Kate re-emerged, her hair ruffled and a satisfied smile on her face as she snuggled up in Galen’s arms again. “I’d say that was a job well done, perhaps now you’re ready to go again?”
Galen laughed in disbelief, wrapping his arms around Kate as he held her warm body against his own. “You’re joking right? I’m not twenty-one any more, you’ll give me a heart attack at this rate!”
He twirled a long strand of red hair around his index finger thoughtfully as Kate made herself more comfortable in his arms, a slight smile curling the edges of his mouth. “Actually… I have something for you, I’d almost forgotten.”
Watching Galen slip out of bed and move across the room, Kate sat up and wrapped the sheets around herself snugly. “A surprise?” she asked in confusion. “You know, I’m not a big fan of those…”
“You’ll like this one,” insisted Galen as he fumbled around in the dully-lit room, picking up his jacket from the back of a chair and searching the pockets. “Ah, here it is…”
Kate sighed as she admired the toned physique of her man. “You know…” she said contemplatively, “all those hours you spend working out really don’t go unappreciated…” Kate sighed again, tilting her head to one side. “Especially not from this angle.”
“You,” said Galen with a wide grin as he sank back down into bed, “are an incorrigible little tease. I should take you in hand and teach you some measure of decorum.”
“Hmmm, promises, promises,” laughed Kate, rocking back and forth in the bundle of wrinkled bed sheets that she had wrapped herself up in. She reached out a hand and stroked her fingers through Galen’s mussed-up hair. “So where’s my surprise?”
“Close your eyes…”
“Oh?” said Kate as she did as Galen instructed, a wry smile spreading across her face. “It’s one of those kind of surprises is it?”
Galen bit his lip tentatively as he took hold of Kate’s hand and placed a small box in her outstretched palm.
After a moment, Kate opened her eyes and looked at the box in confusion. “What’s this?”
“Open it,” said Galen, barely able to hold back his own excitement.
Kate looked up at her husband, still in a state of surprise before she returned her attention to the box and carefully opened it to reveal a heart-shaped locket nestling on a bed of white silk. She breathed in, fingering the intricate carved designs that had been painstakingly etched into the rose gold metal. “Oh Galen…” she said softly, “it’s beautiful.”
Galen smiled, gratified by the purity of Kate’s words. “It’s not much… I mean, well, you know…” He shrugged awkwardly, taking the locket out of the box. He held it in his hands, the blushing gold glinting in the subdued lamp light. Carefully he gathered Kate’s hair to one side and reached behind her neck as he fastened the delicate clasp before letting her hair swing back into place.
He smiled as Kate looked down, arranging the pretty charm against her throat. “It’s an antique,” he explained. “I don’t know if you remember but we saw it in that little jewellery store in Santa Monica a while ago, you said that your mother had one just like it when you were little. I went back and bought it while you were watching those street artists.”
Galen’s eyes saddened for a moment as the memory came alive in his mind. It had been a beautiful day, almost six months ago now, before Emma had died. He’d bought the locket and put it away, forgetting all about it until a week ago when they had been packing for their trip.
“I do, I remember,” said Kate with tears in her eyes. “I couldn’t find you and then you just appeared… you looked so pleased with yourself, I knew you were up to something.”
Smiling, Galen cuddled up next to her and wrapped his arms around her waist and the bundle of sheets that she’d swathed about herself. “Look inside…”
Kate carefully took hold of the locket and opened the small heart in two to reveal a picture of herself and Galen holding Emma. The other side had a picture of Emma on her own, with bright blue bows tied in her red hair. Kate smiled sadly as she traced her finger against the image of their daughter. “It’s… perfect…” she said quietly, hardly able to believe that Galen had done something so wonderful and so thoughtful. She pressed the two halves together, gripping the hard shape in her closed hand and holding it against her heart.
“This is so amazing…” she said, tears in her eyes again as she turned to look at her husband. “I love it, I love you,” she said ardently, drawing Galen close and kissing him deeply. “You are the most… incredible man you know that?”
Galen looked into Kate’s sparkling blue eyes, cradling one side of her face in the palm of his hand while gently caressing the curve of her cheek with his thumb. “I just want to make you happy.”
“And you do,” replied Kate in earnest, returning his impassioned gaze and drawing him close into her arms. “You make me the happiest woman alive.”
An Important Phone Call
***Saturday, 26 May 2007 – 1:56am UK Time
The Coven of Sindell, Warwick, England***
(Friday, 25 May 2007 - 5:56pm Pacific Time – Los Angeles Time)
The stillness of the room lay comfortably with Galen and he sighed contentedly. A haze of exhaustion veiled his eyes as he focused on a golden glow that danced on the ceiling as pale moonlight filtered in through the unobstructed window and reflected off the locket that hung around Kate’s slender throat. The glimmer of honeyed light trembled back and forth in time to Kate’s breathing and Galen traced its steady movement for what felt like hours.
Beyond the room heavy rain continued to pound against the thick glass of the window, a tireless reminder of the intruding outside world that Galen so desperately wanted to forget.
At least for a moment.
As the rain sounded louder, he burrowed deeper into the thick, silk sheets, cocooned like a pearl within an oyster shell. From within his warm shroud he gazed around the room as though in a dream, his attention flitting from the strange shadows that stretched across the walls like long thin arms to the wide rectangle of moonlight that fell across the end of the bed. His eyes drooped tiredly before slowly falling upon the sleeping woman lying in his arms.
Galen smiled softly, his hand lightly caressing Kate’s naked back and brushing her long hair to one side. She had fallen asleep many hours ago, exhausted by their tireless lovemaking. Galen stifled a yawn as he watched her. He felt exhausted too; his body ached and his limbs seemed as heavy as concrete but he just couldn’t allow himself to sleep, to miss this incredible moment of consummate bliss. Kate felt so good lying against him, her warm, naked limbs entwined around his own. Watching her sleep was like gazing upon perfection in his eyes, her features softened by the tranquillity of her repose gave her an almost ethereal quality and her breath felt both sweet and gentle against his skin.
The sound of the telephone ringing broke through Kate’s subconscious like a carving knife slicing through a watermelon. She had visions of alarm bells and clocks all going off at once, and a motherly voice telling her that she would be late for school if she didn’t wake up. Sindell seeped into her brain while she slept; the smell of books and conjuring powder, the echoing footsteps in the halls, the sound of the wind in the courtyard whistling outside the window.
Opening a weary eye to the waking world, Kate roused herself from the comfort of the pillow. Every part of her body ached with exhaustion as she reached out a blind hand towards the source of the noise.
Galen yawned tiredly as Kate loosened herself from his embrace, disentangling their naked limbs. He forced his weary eyes open again, seeing his wife fumbling around the nightstand as the incessant ringing continued. Finally the sound stopped and Kate slumped back down in bed, pulling the crumpled bedsheets around her nakedness as she pressed the cell phone against her ear and mumbled an incomprehensible greeting into the mouthpiece.
“Darian?” she muttered confusedly as she recognised the voice on the other end. “Ugh, gods, do you know what time it is over here?”
A frown spread across Kate’s face at Darian’s frantic words, his voice tempered with a mixture of distress and anxiety. “Wait, wait,” she protested, struggling to keep up with the influx of information that he was trying to relay to her. “Darian, please,” she urged, “calm down, I’ve just woken up…” Kate yawned loudly, half forgetting to cover the mouthpiece. “Darian… DARIAN! You need to speak slower. Can you start again?”
Kate listened intently, trying to focus all her attention onto Darian’s voice as he forced himself to take a deep breath and slow down. “… …Pelor? Who’s Pelor? … … … … …Why did Tash kill him? … … … … … …Oh… so he’s not dead? … … … … …He IS dead? Look, Darian, either he’s dead or he’s not, which is it? … … … … …But I thought you said that- … … … … … … … Ah, okay, I understand…”
“What’s going on?” asked Galen as he scooted up closer to Kate, trying to listen in on the conversation.
“Tash killed some Brashak demon called Pelor on Isla Nublada, only he’s not dead and he came to Los Angeles and…” Kate returned her attention to the phone as she pressed it close against her ear again. “Why did you say this was important?”
Kate covered the mouthpiece as she pulled the phone from her ear again. “He’s passing me over to Oz.”
Galen frowned in confusion, “Oz? Oz who?”
Kate shrugged, “I don’t know… … … Oh! Unless it’s that guy who Alessa- oh wait,” said Kate as she replaced the phone against her ear. “Hello? Yes, I’m here… Oz?”
Silence filled the room as Kate nodded her head in response to what she was hearing. “… …stabilise the chi centre… … … …isolate the life essence of Hyde to… … … …wait a minute, I think I need to write this down…”
Grabbing her robe and wrapping it tightly around her body, Kate jumped up from the tangle of sheets and fell flat on her face on the other side. Galen frowned, crawling to the edge of the bed and peering over. Kate lay in a dishevelled pile of half-naked limbs on the floor, her hair covering her eyes as she looked around dizzily before using the bedpost to help her up to her feet. Galen had to fight the urge to chuckle as he watched her stumble around on unsteady legs in a combination of disorientated sleep-deprivation and sexual lassitude as she tried to find a pen and paper.
Retrieving the cell phone, Kate collapsed back down on the bed, pressing the handset against her ear. “Okay, I’m back, just give me a minute…” Kate quickly scribbled down what Oz had said so far, waiting with the pen poised above the pad as Oz continued.
“Uh huh… … … … lymphocytes… … … … … osmotic filter… … … … wait a minute…” Kate frowned as she looked at the page of notes, quickly altering some of the symbols she’d jotted down. It was really too early to be thinking properly and it took a moment for her to make sense of it all. “Hello, Oz? A bio-organic surrogate host, you said? This is crazy…” she muttered to herself, becoming suddenly invigorated as the things she’d written began to form some kind of coherence.
“Yes… …yes… I know this is important… … … … Kyle? Kyle who? I don’t think… … Alessa? Is she okay? … … … … … Yes I think it makes sense, though I need to just check… … … Darian? Hi again… … … Yes, things are going …well over here… … … probably a few days now; I’ll keep you informed… uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, Darian? Was there anything else? … … … … … No, he did the car metaphor thing, that didn’t really help. … …No it confused me more… … okay well, good night then. … … …Yes Darian, it’s night here… 2am, okay so morning, early morning… … good bye, talk to you soon…”
Replacing the cell on the nightstand, Kate dragged herself into a sitting position with a weary sigh.
“Hey… where do you think you’re going?” chuckled Galen as he wrapped his arms around her naked body and pulled her back down into bed. He nuzzled her gently behind her ear; laying warm, wet kisses down the back of her neck.
Kate giggled, sighing appreciatively as Galen’s touch became a little more intimate. “Oh, Galen…” she sighed again, reluctantly removing his hands from beneath her robe. “It’s about Hyde. Darian… Oz… they said some things… hmmmm, oh that’s nice…” Kate moaned tiredly. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed again, she was so exhausted and…
“Please Galen… I have to go,” she insisted, climbing out of bed.
“Go? But it’s… Kate it’s almost 2:30am!” exclaimed Galen incredulously. “What do you think you can do at 2:30am? No one is awake, except us that is,” he added grouchily.
“But if I go back to sleep I might forget…” protested Kate, pulling on a tight black sweater and a pair of slim fitting jeans. “I need to work on this now, while it’s all still fresh in my mind.” She perched on the edge of the bed as she zipped up her boots.
“Okay… I’m coming with you.”
“No, no, darling,” Kate kneeled on the bed facing Galen, cupping his face between her hands. “There’s no need, you stay here.” She kissed him gently. “Get some rest…” she kissed him again, “…keep the bed warm…” Kate held Galen close while she kissed him long and passionately, twisting her fingers in his hair.
“We can meet up for breakfast, and besides,” she smiled teasingly as she picked up her notes and headed towards the door, “you need to get your strength back.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Saturday, 26th May 2007 – 7:35am
Morning light filtered past the edges of the heavy drapes turning the complete darkness of Onyx’s suite into a gloomy cave. Onyx herself lay wrapped in the cotton sheets of her bed, her legs entangled in Tash’s and her slightly longer torso spooned against her lover’s back.
The gentle rhythm of their breathing created a gentle pressure against Onyx’s breasts, sending a frisson of remembered pleasure through the demon. Onyx sighed gently; she might technically be a sexless drone incapable of breeding more of her kind but the magic that allowed her to inhabit her human shell also passed along the appropriate sensations. It might be a little less visceral but it was real and she enjoyed it as much as any other human would, especially with as skilled a partner as Tash.
Onyx’s plans for Tash were progressing quite nicely; last night had cemented their physical relationship, which would inevitably lead to increasing emotional intimacy. Even with the virus that was obviously tainting her system Tash wasn’t the sort of person to divorce her body so completely from her emotions.
Still, Onyx thought a nudge here or there would help things along and there was no time like the present. Onyx let her had drift downwards giving her more freedom of movement and she placed her lips by Tash’s ear. A few whispered words, an arcane sigil drawn on Tash’s skin and it was done. Onyx’s motions turned back into the aimless meanderings of a lover, while her mouth moved to nibble delicately where Tash's neck met her shoulder.
“Hmm, good morning,” Tash murmured sleepily as she rolled into the caress. Her half-awake brain had just begun to register the tickling touches and she opened her eyes to smile lazily into Onyx’s. Running a hand along the bare shoulder of her bed-mate, Tash marvelled at how natural the whole situation all seemed. Her earlier thoughts of keeping Onyx at arm’s length now seemed ridiculous. She nestled her head in Onyx’s shoulder and sighed in contentment.
“So, what’s for breakfast? I’m starving.”
Onyx laughed. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything in,” she said with an indulgent smile, “so it’s room service. Not,” Onyx pressed a light kiss on Tash’s mouth, “that that’s a hardship.”
Responding to the kiss with enthusiasm, Tash trailed her hand down Onyx’s shoulder to cup a full breast. Her eyes flicked to the clock on the bedside table, however, and she sighed heavily.
“Damn, I have things I need to do today,” she pouted. “I only have time for breakfast and a quick shower, and then I’ll have to dash.”
Tash cursed the rotten luck that meant today was the day she was meeting with an appraiser for some of the Foundation’s artefacts, and then she had duties at Delancre’s mansion – one of which was to discover if Alessa had found any way to help her past Daye’s guards.
She kissed Onyx again, more softly, and whispered, “But at least we could have that shower together… and I can come back tonight, if you like. Though it’ll be pretty late.”
“Marcus has plans today. So we wouldn’t have been…” Onyx gave a small shrug; she and Tash would have to find a way around their respective obligations if this was going to continue. Onyx had the incentive to do so, and ‘persuading’ Tash would be simplicity itself.
“As for tonight? I’d love for you to come over. Whatever time.” Onyx didn’t need to look at the clock to know she needed to rise soon but she did so anyway. She frowned and pulled the sheets away from her sticky skin, before letting her hands return to wander over Tash’s skin. “Now about that shower…”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Saturday 26th May - 9:28pm
Watchers’ Council Mansion, LA
Strapped into a cold, hard metal chair, with some device round his head and tubes running into his body everywhere, Kyle was in pain. The device round his head was like some sort of metal helmet, but filled with electrodes that pressed into his skull. Wearing nothing but his underwear, Kyle was both freezing cold and boiling hot; sometimes at the same time, sometimes alternatively. His eyes were open, but he stared unseeing. Unable to move, Kyle could do nothing but cry. Which he did a lot. He couldn’t even change his form.
Demon servitors bustled about him, injecting him with more substances, taking blood samples. He had no idea how long he had been in the chair. Time, like any other logical process, had left Kyle’s mind completely. From his appearance, it was probably some time as his injuries had recovered substantially. Either that, or Delancre’s warlocks had had another go at healing him. Which meant they were only going to hurt him more.
His mind was filled only with pain, pain like none he had ever experienced at the hands of anybody, not even with Reah or Darian or Ana. It was pain that blindingly filled his every nerve, scorched across his muscles.
Then there was Moore - always Moore, always at his side questioning him, and he could only answer as truthly as possible, but sometimes these answers weren't good enough, or weren't to his liking, and then the pain would increase, increase until Moore took it away again... Moore always took the pain away.
And then there were the voices. Not Moore's voice, these were in his head. They whispered and shouted and screamed and soothed. And then they ordered and commanded, told him to think a certain way, and when Kyle refused the pain somehow increased in intensity.
Come on now, Kyle. I can make the pain all go away. Just do this one thing for me…
Oh, what a complete and total waste you are, little fire demon. Look at you. You’re pathetic. Have been for years. But we can make you strong…make you worthy…
You don’t need this; you’re beyond it, Kyle. I know you are. Just listen to me…
Mr. Ashton! You useless piece of cow dung! You have never been good for anything in your goddamned life! The LEAST you could do is LISTEN to what I have to say and agree!
The voices continued, appealing to his every state of mind, his every emotion. At first Kyle had tried to ignore them, but eventually they and the pain wore him down. They never stopped, never stopped insisting, commanding, pleading…
Now he couldn’t even ignore them. He was helplessly forced to listen. Only his last mental defences remained, and they wouldn’t last long.
He just wanted the pain and the voices all go away…
I can do that Kyle. I can make it all go away. I can make you strong again, so you don’t have to rely on the weaklings around you. I can shelter you from pain for the rest of your life…
A little voice in Kyle’s mind tried to grab his attention, but it slowly wasted away to nothing. The voices were so convincing he just wanted to listen to them, to let them take over. He couldn’t even remember why they were so bad any more…
They would make his life better. That’s all he wanted.
We can give you what you want, Kyle. Whatever you want.
They could do it.
All you have to do is listen to us. Just open yourself to us.
All he had to do was listen to them. Just open himself to them.
Only a little. You can change your mind if you don’t like it.
And he could change his mind if he didn’t like it. He only had to open himself a little.
Already he could feel the pain diminishing.
That’s it, Kyle. You’ve almost done it. I’m so proud of you-
Something in Kyle’s head clicked, brought on by those last few words. I’m so proud of you… It repeated in his head again and again, but this time it was his own voice saying it. The voices fell silent, perhaps confused, wondering what new development this was in his psyche.
Then the suggestion Tash had planted in his mind so many weeks ago finally triggered.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Kyle found himself in a stone corridor. A stone roof was just above him. Torches flickered on the walls. He reached out to touch a wall and discovered it was damp. *Where the Hell am I?*
A guttural roar came from round the corner ahead of him. Before he even realised it, Kyle found himself running away from it, darting down twisting, turning corridors. Slowly, it dawned on him he was in a maze. But he didn’t know where to go, so he carried on running.
It seemed every time he came to a choice, another roar always sounded from down one of them, and he was darting down the other even before he thought to run.
On and on he ran. The roar was always behind him, coming closer and closer. Soon, he knew he would run out of places to run. Or the roar would catch up with him. And then it would… it would-
Kyle stopped running. What would it do? Kill him?
It could damn well try.
Enough running. He didn’t run from a fight. What had he said to Darian? ‘Backing down isn’t going to get me out of it. I’ve got to stand up for myself, because nobody will stand up for me or with me.’ Well, this was no different. He would fight.
Wait- Darian? Then it came back, everything. And Kyle knew that listening to the voices wouldn’t make it go away, just as running wouldn’t make the roar go away. But killing whatever was making that noise would.
At the very least, it would make him feel a little better.
As Kyle’s decision became more and more sure, the roaring began to falter. Then, as Kyle turned to face the way he came, it picked up more and drew nearer. The demon could hear big thumps as huge feet slapped the damp, stone floor.
Then the creature that made the roar came into view. Kyle began to wonder whether standing his ground was a good thing.
It was a minotaur. A huge minotaur. Great tusks sprouted from the side of its mouth, with bigger horns curling down from its head. Both were sharp and dripped with blood. The thing stank of sweat and death. Flies buzzed around its back, saliva dripped from its mouth. Its fists were as big as Kyle's skull. Somehow, the dimensions of the corridor shaped around it, because surely nothing that big could fit down it.
With eyes glowing a fiery red, the minotaur eyed Kyle, its huge muscular frame shifting up and down with each breath, and gave another guttural roar that rattled Kyle's bones.
Kyle gave a roar of his own, one that blended fear and anger and rage together. At the end of his own roar he shifted into his demon form and then he charged.
Putting its bull-head down, the minotaur rammed towards Kyle, seeking to impale him on its huge horns. But the Kaoshian leapt over its head to land on the minotaur’s back, wrapping his tail around one horn as he did so. The hordes of flies, so dark they were like a shadow, scattered in wake of his fire. Plunging his hands through layers of hairs, Kyle grabbed onto the flesh beneath and gripped. Hard.
The minotaur roared, reaching up to throw Kyle from its back, but Kyle tugged hard on his tail, and therefore the horn, pulling it to its left and off balance. Fire from his tail licked at the minotaur’s face. The hair around Kyle's hands began to smoulder.
Roaring now in pain rather than fury, the minotaur slammed into one of the walls. Kyle let go with one hand and grabbed one of the flickering torches from its stand, almost losing his hold as he did so.
Then, with one final cry, he dug into the minotaur’s back with his knees and feet, grabbed the torch in both hands, and swung it down over both their heads right into the creature’s face. Smoke rose as the minotaur shrieked and burned under the fire. It spasmed and twice nearly threw Kyle off, but his tail, still wrapped around a horn, kept him on.
Finally the fire went out, and with its face nearly burnt away the minotaur collapsed. Kyle leapt away from its back at last and watched as the creature toppled to the hard ground. It wasn’t dead, but it sure as hell wasn’t getting up any time soon.
That wasn’t good enough for Kyle.
He crossed over to the frame that had been holding the torch in place. After much straining, struggling and cursing he managed to pry it off the wall. Then Kyle crossed back to the minotaur, swung it over his shoulder like a club, and brought it down again and again and again and again…
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Saturday 26th May - 9:28pm
Watchers’ Council Mansion, LA
Back in the conditioning room, Kyle’s unfocused eyes suddenly snapped to attention. Less than a second had passed in the real world. He could still feel the joy, the sheer superior feeling he got at the sound of the iron brazier hitting the minotuar’s flesh.
And he liked that feeling.
The voices were gone. The pain was still there, but it served to only fuel his fury even more. Around the room, demonic servitors began to panic and bustle about quickly as a noise built in Kyle’s mouth. It started as barely as whisper, but than grew to a murmur, a shout, another roar of his own. As the roar built, Kyle’s whole body began to shake as he fought against whatever drugs were preventing him from moving.
With a final, deafening shout Kyle let the fire demon out, ripping away the constraints over his arms and legs as he did so. He grabbed the device around his head and threw it and whatever machinery it was attached to across the room; slamming into a servitor and crushing its skull. Slowly, he got to his feet, yanking out all the tubes and needles as he did so, then turned to look around the room.
The servitors froze, shocked. This was unprecedented.
A furious, feral cry and a twisted smile on his lips the whole time, Kyle slaughtered them all.
***
Moore stepped down the pristine, white corridor towards the conditioning room Kyle was in. Although the demon had only been down there a day, Moore had visited every few hours or so. When asked, he had said it was to check on the demon’s status and to interrogate him, even though he had asked all the questions he needed to. The truth was he enjoyed seeing the demon down there, helpless, slowly becoming a slave. It was what all his filthy kind should be.
He was several steps from the door, however, when it buckled and was flung open under a ravaged servitor corpse. The corpse collided with Moore, sending him tumbling to the floor. After he untangled himself from the corpse, Hollis looked through the open door. What he saw was even more shocking than the dead servitor.
Virtually every surface of the room was splashed with blood, and not just red but of a variety of colours. Body parts and corpses littered the floor. In the centre of the death crouched Kyle, back in human form, wearing nothing but the blood of the demons and his boxers, panting.
Slowly, Kyle looked up, blood splattered over his face, his teeth bared, lips curled back in a feral snarl, and fixed Moore with a look he could only describe as death. Hollis’ mouth worked a couple of times, but no words came out, only a pitiful whimper.
He reached for the gun in his jacket, but to Moore it seemed he moved in slow motion. Even before he could get it out of the holster, Kyle stood before him, grabbed both sides of his head, and snapped Moore’s neck so hard he almost tore his head from his shoulders.
Moore’s body slumped to the ground. Kyle looked down at it for a moment, wearing the expressionless face of a mad man, or one who was close. He wiped some blood from his face with the back of his hand then licked it off, still staring at the dead man in the suit.
He was not weak, and would never be again.
Suit… Delancre. He would kill Delancre, too. But not yet, not yet.
First he would kill anybody who thought he was weak.
He would kill them all, starting with Darian.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Friday, May 25th, 2007
5:40 pm
Watchers' Council LA Headquarters
The maid’s uniform was hidden in the same place where she had left it. Taking a quick look around, Alessa changed into a slight demoness and dressed quickly before walking towards the outdoors swimming pool. She was careful to walk with her eyes downcast and her manner servile, but purposeful all the same, so nobody would cast suspicious looks her way.
She breathed in relief when she saw Inés lazily sunbathing near the swimming pool, in plain sight. Her cousin was obviously enjoying herself, as she said she would. She walked towards the pool and, taking a jar of iced tea from a shaded table, she approached her cousin and bent to refill her glass. Inés looked up and immediately recognized her; Alessa almost chuckled at the guilty look in her face. It was strange to see her own face on somebody else, but it was stranger still to see the subtle changes that Inés had given to her body. An extra suppleness, more befitting than she wanted to admit, but exasperating anyway.
“You’ve taken some liberties, I see,” she whispered, before straightening and adding in a louder tone. “The sauna is ready, Miss Alessa, if you want to use it now.”
“Yes, thank you,” Inés answered, and bent to retrieve her towel robe before standing up to follow the demoness into the swimming pool house. The installations integrated an extended set of facilities, including an exercise area, Finnish sauna and jacuzzi. The jacuzzi occupied the first section, being semi covered extending outdoors. The exercise area had a treadmill, a weight machine, a stair climber and a rowing machine lined up facing a wall-to-wall window that allowed sight of the swimming pool and the gardens beyond. Passing the exercise room, in a more intimate section there was the sauna chamber and shower stalls. They had used the same place earlier to exchange places; it was usually quiet since Alessa seemed to be the only one who enjoyed the accommodations.
“You took long enough,” Inés said the moment they were alone. She smirked at her cousin as she stepped out of the swimming suit and changed to emulate Alessa’s form. “Not that I minded, of course. I was tempted to use the sauna earlier but didn’t want to stay out of sight.”
“Well, sorry my timing wasn’t convenient,” Alessa snapped, nastily, while she morphed back to her true form and wrapped a towel around her body, sarong like.
Inés head snapped up at the catty remark and she narrowed her eyes, studying her cousin’s brisk movements and closed face. “What happened, Alessa? Did you talk to your friend?”
Alessa’s briskness eased a little, and she avoided Inés’ searching eyes. She nodded, tiredly, and bit her lip. “I did, but then we were attacked… Kyle-”
“Cole’s Kyle?” Inés asked, surprised, but she stopped herself when saw that Alessa looked like she was going to start crying any minute. Her distress was washing her with impetuous waves. Worried, Inés took off the watch with the protection charm and fastened it around Alessa’s wrist; it wouldn’t do that some psychic picked up her misery and came to investigate.
“Control yourself, girl!” she whispered urgently, while she dressed quickly. Once she was satisfied with her appearance, Inés turned to Alessa again. “Tell me what happened,” she pressed, all the time checking the exercise room entrance for any interruption. “Is your friend all right?”
Alessa had started to shake. She embraced herself and breathed in deep pants to control herself. When she finally was able to think clearly, she talked.
"I don’t know, Inés. Kyle appeared at the Armoury and he attacked Pelor, yes, Cole's Kyle. That demonio loco.” She shivered. "I wanted to help but Oz didn’t let me…”
"Good thinking," Inés said, instantly realizing what it would have meant if the Kaoshian recognized Alessa at the Armoury. "But what happened? Did he kill Pelor?"
"Yes- no…" Alessa shook her head, "I don’t know, but he killed somebody. That's for sure." She grimaced, she could still smell the acrid stench of burning flesh…
Inés straightened, and quickly manoeuvred with the controls of the sauna chamber, making the stove begin to steam. Alessa needed some time to relax and a sauna sounded like the perfect place.
"I'll let you know what happened as soon as possible." Seeing that the round window in the wooden door showed a thick steam cloud, she opened the door and pushed Alessa inside. "Now you need to calm down and get your wits back, or you'll go meet your friend in the más allá," she whispered urgently when she heard somebody come into the room, probably checking their whereabouts.
"The löyly should be okay by now, mistress," she said in a louder voice, before closing the door behind Alessa. "But you can adjust it with the panel control by the door."
Alessa grimaced at her cousin's reference to the netherworld, but she nodded and stepped into the welcoming steam. She sat on the warm wooden seat and leant back tiredly, closing her eyes. Soon the sweat glistening on her skin hid any trace of falling tears.
Jillian and Kate Study
***Saturday, 26 May 2007 – 5:41am UK Time
Dr Jillian Lennon’s Quarters, The Coven of Sindell, England***
(Friday, 25 May 2007 - 9:41pm Pacific Time – Los Angeles Time)
Reintroducing - Jorja Fox as Dr Jillian Lennon
Jillian struggled to hide a yawn behind the back of her hand as she read through the formulae one last time. Kate had come to her quarters several hours ago, an impassioned light in her eyes and an animated glow to her features, talking enthusiastically about some phone call she’d just received. Jillian had let her in without question.
“I think this… I think this will work,” said Kate assuredly, pacing the small living room.
Unlike the lavish guest quarters that Galen and herself had been installed in, Jillian’s apartment was indicative of the kind of cramped and dingy accommodation in which most of Sindell’s residents subsisted. A compact sitting room with an adjoining kitchenette separated by a breakfast counter took up most of the limited space, while the other rooms consisted of a neatly arranged water closet with its own shower and of course the bedroom. Jillian was in fact lucky that she had a separate room to sleep in. Kate could clearly remember the small garret room in which she had spent the years during which was had been a lowly professor to the Sindell Academy. Cramped just didn’t cover it.
“We’ve been over the details a dozen times, it all fits,” continued Kate enthusiastically, still pacing the narrow floor space. “Where I was going wrong… it was because I was trying to sever the link between the host and the host’s mana. I mean if mana IS the substantive form of living energy in the body then it would be like trying to remove the soul and expect the body to survive without it. This way… this way,” repeated Kate excitedly, “the link is preserved between the life force and the host in the connection to the vessel.”
“And then…” Jillian, scanned through the notes Kate had made, “it’s quite ingenious really, the virus actually eats the mana but it’s drained through the lymphatic system so quickly that it doesn’t ever get to ingest it. Even the new mana that is created, it all goes through the body like some sort of magic parasite.”
“The connection to the vessel must work like some sort of valve,” noted Kate, marking down the section on the diagram. “Allowing the mana to flow freely in one direction but not the other. Though…” she scratched her head thoughtfully, “once Hyde has died there needs to be a way for that to reverse.”
“This is really amazing…” mumbled Jillian, sliding her glasses back up her nose. She yawned again. “Oh, Catherine, I’m just…” she yawned louder, getting to her feet. “I think it’s time for more coffee.”
Kate nodded in agreement as Jillian headed towards the kitchen before turning her attention back to the pages of notes that they had written over the passing hours. Picking up one of her old journals she fairly scoffed at some of the questions she had posed, the potential problems that had arisen during her experiments. They all seemed so simplistic now, she couldn’t believe that she’d been so blind to finding the answers.
Jillian padded around in the tiny kitchenette, her bare feet shuffling on the floor tiles as she filled up the coffee machine and switched it on. She smiled as she saw Kate returning her focus to their work; she had to admire the woman’s passion and unfaltering devotion to her craft. Inspired by this new information that Kate had received she was practically overflowing with ideas for how to implement it, sketching out various ritual formations and already working on an incantation.
The doctor wrapped her oversized woolly cardigan tighter around her body as she unhooked a couple of cups from her mug tree and set them next to the noisy machine as it chugged a thin trickle of brown liquid into the coffee pot. She only now realised that she hadn’t dressed, still in her baggy nightie with a picture of a unicorn set in a big heart on the front, her bare, untanned legs looking like two scrawny tree trunks.
She glanced up at Kate again, watching the pretty witch through her unflattering glasses before looking down at herself self-consciously. Even at this ungodly hour Kate looked beautiful; her complexion practically glowed and her cheeks held a healthy pink flush. Her gorgeous shiny red hair hung down her back in a mass of loose curls, half tied back from her face and though her eyes beheld a certain weariness they still sparkled with bright enthusiasm.
Catching her own reflection in the metal trim of the coffee pot, Jillian sighed in disappointment before pouring out the hot liquid into two cups and returning to the living room where Kate sat.
“Here…” she said, offering one of the mugs to Kate. “Low fat milk, no sugar, just how you like it.”
“Thanks, Jilly,” smiled Kate, looking up at the woman as she took the cup and held it between her cold hands. She hadn’t known Jillian Lennon long but she liked her very much and hoped that they might stay in contact after she’d returned home. She seemed like such an outsider at Sindell, especially with her not being a witch, and Kate got the distinct impression that, despite her protests to the contrary, Jillian actually felt quite lonely here.
“I was thinking,” Kate said thoughtfully, returning her attention to her work, “if we maybe changed this here… separated Hyde first before establishing the link… it should run more smoothly and…” Kate set down her cup and heaved a great heavy book onto her knee, turning to a book-marked page. “I found this incantation, it’s one written by the Mäori tribes in New Zealand. The translation is a little elementary but the words are perfect for this ritual…”
“You should drink your coffee while it’s hot,” interrupted Jillian, looking at the cup almost forlornly. “We’ve been working all morning, we should take a break.”
Kate sighed as she put the book to one side and retrieved the steaming mug of coffee. “You’re right,” she said, taking a tentative sip. “Hmmm, this is lovely.”
Jillian watched as Kate pursed her full lips together and blew gently on the surface of the liquid. She let her gaze slowly wander, falling upon the pretty locket that hung about Kate’s throat. It looked expensive and Jillian frowned as she considered that it was a present from her husband.
Following Jillian’s gaze, Kate looked down, smiling as she fingered the small golden heart. “Galen gave me it last night…” Kate could feel her cheeks glow as she thought about how they had spent all the previous day in bed together. “We made love and it was so wonderful, Jillian,” she rhapsodised emphatically. “Have you ever been with someone where everything just felt so… perfect? I mean, well, you have your problems but when you curl up in bed next to each other, it’s like the best thing in the whole world and everything else just seems to disappear?”
Jillian felt cold at Kate’s words and they cut through her like a dagger to her heart though she had no idea why. “Not really,” she admitted quietly, tucking her feet up underneath herself. “I never really dated much, there was only one man…” Jillian’s eyes glazed over slightly at the uncomfortable memory, “…my first… he was kind and charming. One of those lady-killer types, I thought I was in love with him, I would have done anything for him…”
“What happened?” asked Kate gently, sensing that she had hit a raw subject for the young woman.
“He just wanted one thing from me.”
“Oh I know that kind of man,” said Kate with a weary sigh, shaking her head in annoyance. “But you know, you shouldn’t let that stop you from being with someone again… there are lots of good men out there, men who’ll appreciate everything that you have to offer, men who will know just by looking at you what an amazing, intelligent, beautiful woman you are.”
Jillian looked up, her eyes clouded with surprise. “Do you really think that? That I’m… beautiful?”
“You are very beautiful, Jillian,” said Kate sincerely. “You have that whole ‘girl next-door’ look going on, guys really love that.”
“I think they like the graceful, voluptuous, redhead look a lot more,” Jillian mumbled, averting her eyes. Finally she looked up; her gaze met Kate’s and she sighed. “You know you’re gorgeous Catherine,” she said fighting back frustrated tears. “Do you even know how beautiful you are? I’ve seen guys actually stop and stare as you walk past, they look at you. Nobody has ever looked at me in my entire life, not really. I’m just dull, boring Jillian, always with her head in a book.”
“You can be whatever you want to be, Jilly,” said Kate gently, taking the woman’s hand in her own. “But the only thing that matters is who you are in here,” Kate held her free hand over her heart. “You’re a good person, you’re a doctor, you help people. Let everyone else see that and you’ll be dazzling.”
Jillian smiled, her simple features appearing warm in the drab morning light. “Now that we’ve worked out a cure, you’ll be leaving us soon…”
“I guess I will,” agreed Kate, a little surprised that she’d not come to that conclusion herself. Yesterday all she could think about was being home so that she could visit her daughter’s grave, but now… She sighed uneasily. “Well I’ll need to test this theory out first, and then there’s the matter of my team, I’ve only chosen a handful so far… it’ll probably be a few more days yet I’d imagine.”
Glancing at her watch Kate suddenly leapt to her feet. “Oh Gaia, I’m supposed to meet Galen for breakfast at seven,” she exclaimed, “and I wanted to shower and get changed…”
“Well I can’t help you with clothes but… why don’t you take a shower here?” offered Jillian with a shrug. “Your apartments are all the way on the other side of the castle, it’ll take you ages to get there and the dining room is just down the hall from here.”
“You’re a life saver,” said Kate with a grateful smile as she picked up her things and headed towards the bathroom. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” mumbled Jillian, watching Kate disappear into the other room. As soon as the water switched on in the shower she picked up the two coffee cups and took them into the kitchen. Her eyes became unfocused as she slowly did the washing up, twisting the bright pink scourer around in tight circles, scrubbing out all traces of the drink.
Next she picked up the coffee pot and cleaned that, pouring the remaining contents down the sink. Then she cleaned the filter in the machine, running clear water through the system. By the time the shower switched off again, Jillian was sitting in her chair as though she had never moved.
“There are fresh towels in the basket,” she shouted, rising to her feet and wandering over towards the bathroom in case she couldn’t find them.
Suddenly, Jillian stood still, transfixed for a moment as she caught a glimpse of Kate’s naked body through the gap in the door, wet from her shower. The woman bit her lower lip as she remained rooted to the spot. A slither of a lightly tanned thigh was clearly visible for a few seconds, soon replaced by the soft round curve of a full breast as Kate bent low to dry her feet.
Jillian continued to watch, her heart beating so hard that she could feel it pounding in her chest. She knew that this was wrong, that she shouldn’t be looking. She didn’t even know why she was looking except, perhaps idle curiosity, or appreciation. Kate had a perfectly proportioned body and her movements were so artful and graceful, she reminded Jillian of the muses in Gustav Klimt paintings, especially with all that red hair.
As the door handle began to turn, she ran back to the sofa with the kind of excitement that children got when they peeked under their parents’ bed looking for Christmas presents. Kate wandered into the room a few seconds later, a towel wrapped tightly around her wet body and her hair twisted up in another, turban style.
“That was just what I needed,” Kate smiled lazily as she sat down, unravelling her hair and rubbing it dry with the towel. Suddenly she inhaled sharply, her breath sounding aching and shallow. Kate’s hand flew to the area of pain just beneath her right breast; rubbing at the site where she had been stabbed only four days ago.
“Are you still having trouble breathing?” asked Jillian with a concerned frown. Kate had complained of the same problem a couple of times since her brush with death. The knife wound that she’d received had been particularly deep, puncturing her lung, and although the healing she’d received had saved her life there appeared to be some residual impairment that no one had picked up on.
Jillian’s eyes narrowed in worry as she guided Kate over to the sofa where she sat and went to fetch her medical bag. “You know, you might be getting an infection. I can give you another shot…”
Kate grimaced reluctantly. “Well… would it take long? Because I don’t have much time and-”
“You don’t like needles, do you?” smiled Jillian, already picking up her bag and fishing around inside. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. You trust me, don’t you Catherine?”
“Of course I do but-”
“Lie down,” instructed Jillian as she removed a small box and opened it out on the coffee table. She took out a syringe and fastened a hypodermic on the end, flicking the small tube a few times to encourage the flow of the dark purple liquid.
“What is that anyway?” Kate asked as she leaned over the arm of the sofa, trying to relax despite all her apprehension. She really hated injections. “I mean… what’s in it?”
“Oh… it’s just a synthetic compound. Like I said, it’ll help boost your immune system so if you do have infection you’ll be more able to fight it. Now hold still a moment…” Jillian hitched up the edge of Kate’s towel, wiping a small swab over the back of her thigh before sliding the needle into her pliant flesh. The inky liquid seemed to rise to the surface of Kate’s skin, tracing a map of veins and muscle fibres, glowing with a strange darkness before it slowly began to fade.
Withdrawing the needle slowly, Jillian gently rubbed at the patch of flesh until the discolouration vanished, holding back the urge to sigh in relief. “Done,” she announced, sitting up straight. “That wasn’t so bad was it?”
“I guess not…” mumbled Kate as she rolled back over, rubbing at the sore spot. “Well if you’ve finished, I should get ready, I’m gonna be late. We can carry on with this…” she gestured towards the table full of papers and books, “later.”
“Sure,” said Jillian, holding the small box that had contained the syringe tightly in her hands. Her face was filled with apprehension as Kate rose to her feet to go get dressed.
Once alone again she slowly opened the box, laying it back out on the table. Inside there were two empty syringes clipped in place next to a third which still contained the same shimmering dark purple liquid as before. Jillian drew her index finger across that last glass vial contemplatively, her eyes looking sad and remorseful. “Later…”
Situation Confrontation
***Saturday, 26 May 2007 – 7:14am UK Time
Communal Dining Room, The Coven of Sindell, England***
(Friday, 25 May 2007 - 11:14pm Pacific Time – Los Angeles Time)
Reintroducing – Ralph Fiennes as Lord Byron Horatio Spencer
The early morning breakfast crowds streamed in and out of the large hall in a flurry of long black robes and bright smiling faces. The din of cutlery and plates combined with the sound of over a hundred people all talking at the same time rose riotously into the eaves, combining into a dull but steady buzz. It had taken Galen twenty minutes just to find a table and now he didn’t dare leave it even though Kate was almost a quarter of an hour late.
His eyes struggled to search the crowds as he stirred yet another cube of sugar into his second coffee of the morning. He needed all the extra energy he could get whether it was in sugar form or not. He still felt exhausted from spending the past eighteen hours in bed with Kate. Galen smiled to himself as he reminisced; despite his chronic fatigue he wouldn’t have changed a thing about yesterday, apart from the fact that it should have happened a long time ago.
Glancing at his watch again, Galen hoped that Kate hadn’t forgotten that they were supposed to meet up. He was just about to head off to Dr Lennon’s apartment to look for her when a tall figure stood in front of his table.
“I think it’s about time the two of us had a little talk.” Without even waiting for an invitation, the man pulled out the chair and sat down, lacing his fingers together upon the pristine tablecloth.
“Byron…” said Galen steadily, holding back the urge to just beat the man into a bloody pulp where he sat. After what Kate had told him about his little attempt at a reconciliation with her, he’d just been waiting for an opportunity to put this man in his place. It was obvious Kate had been terribly upset by the whole ordeal and at a time when she could do without the extra burden of worry.
Removing a slim cigarette case from his jacket, Byron offered it first to Galen before lighting up one of the thin white sticks himself, inhaling deeply. “Well…” he said officiously, looking Galen up and down with a penetrating gaze, “aren’t you just the picture of marital bliss this morning? Can only mean one thing, dear Catherine finally put out for you. I heard that the two of you were experiencing certain… problems.”
“Yes, and don’t I know how?” said Galen tightly, narrowing his eyes on the man. “Before you go thinking that you have something over me, Kate told me all about your pathetic attempts at trying to get her into bed. Pulling a glamour… pretending to be me… surely that tells you that she wouldn’t even look twice at you any more.”
“How nice to cut straight to the chase,” chuckled Byron, cigarette smoke billowing out of his nostrils. “Directness is certainly not appreciated as much as it should be-”
“You’re lucky that I don’t just beat the living crap out of you right now,” interrupted Galen, his voice threatening but controlled.
“And why wouldn’t you?” asked Byron interestedly, removing his cigarette from his lips and exhaling another cloud of grey smoke. “If I were in your shoes and someone took such liberties with my wife, that man would not draw breath upon this earth again.”
“Don’t in any way assume that’s it’s because I wouldn’t,” promised Galen firmly. He knew the risk of threatening someone like Byron. The man was supposed to be something of a powerful mage but that fact didn’t hold any sway over Galen with the way he felt right now and if Byron was as formidable a psychic as people said he was he’d get that message loud and clear.
“If you’d harmed one hair upon her head then you’d be drinking your lapsang souchong through a straw right now, and that’s not an idle threat. But your pathetic little cry for attention?” Galen shook his head in disgust. “Frankly, Byron… you’re not worth the effort it would take to put a dent in your useless hide. In a few days Kate and I will be back home and you’ll be nothing more than a sad, worthless memory that we will BOTH be glad to forget.”
Byron took a long draw on his cigarette, the orange embers blazing brightly. “I wonder,” he said speculatively, guarding his own repugnance behind his stiff gestures, “how a man like yourself can be so deluded into believing that you can actually uphold this pretence of a marriage. Catherine is a witch, a particularly talented witch and you…”
Byron’s eyes flitted across Galen disapprovingly. “Well, frankly Galen, you might be a decent sort of man but you’re little else. Think what you might about me, at least I’m playing in the same league. But you? You’re in way over your head… and you know it.”
Galen rose to his feet with an air of finality. His earlier resolve was wearing thin and he thought it best to leave before he did something he would later regret. “Well Kate obviously doesn’t think so…”
“Kate doesn’t know what’s good for her,” snapped Byron. “Sit down, Galen.” He raised his eyes to focus on the man. “You’re holding her back… surely you can see that.”
Galen remained standing but he didn’t move, his body rigid with barely restrained anger and irritation. He leaned on his clenched fists, towering over Byron. “Kate loves me… she’s happy with me. You’re not even a factor in our lives together. What part of that equation are you having trouble understanding?”
“Kate will never be happy with you,” said Byron in a matter-of-fact tone, stubbing out the remainder of his cigarette on the saucer of Galen’s coffee cup. “How could she? She’s a powerful witch from a meritorious bloodline and you… you’re a nobody. Oh I’m sure she finds you amusing, a novelty…” he added, waving his hand around with a trivial effect. “But it’ll wear off, mark my words. One day when you’ve worn her down into this sad little excuse for a housewife, she’ll wake up and realise what a mistake she’s made. It’ll be too late by then but… it’s an inevitable fact.”
Byron noticed the flare of anger in Galen’s face and did his best to hide a smile, raising his voice before the man had a chance to say anything in response.
“And if you believe I’m wrong, think on this… you’ve known Kate for what? Two years? Well, I’ve known her practically all her life! Catherine and her oh-so idealistic dreams of motherhood, the perfect family – oh yes,” he proclaimed triumphantly at Galen’s surprised expression, “I know them all. That desperate desire to fit in, to be accepted, all those deep-seated longings to someday have a ‘normal’ life…”
Byron shook his head in ridicule, pointing at Galen fiercely. “But you and I… we both know that such things are beyond her reach, that what she is, what she can do will always come between her and that life that she craves for. She has the childish notion that one day… one day she’ll be able to overcome those constraints, but if you know her at all like I do, you’ll already know that isn’t possible. Catherine will never relinquish her gift, nor will she be able to stop herself from helping the next poor lost soul she comes across. The sooner that she accepts her destiny and puts aside all these silly dreams the better.”
“You might be right,” said Galen, trying to retain his composure though he twisted his fists together even tighter. “But the difference between you and me Byron, is that unlike you I will never stop trying to make her ‘silly’ dreams become a reality. The other rather important difference is that I actually have a chance of doing it. Now I don’t know for what reason you’ve decided to become fixated on my wife but you’ll do better to forget it because when we go back to America it’ll be for good, and I’ll make sure that you never see Kate again.”
“And just how will you stop me?” Byron rose from his chair, standing a good few inches taller than Galen and using every one to his advantage as he narrowed his steely eyes upon him threateningly. “If ‘for whatever reason’ I decide to pursue her… just how will you prevent it?”
“Try,” challenged Galen seriously, “and you’ll find out how.” The two of them stood on opposing sides of the table before Galen turned and headed towards the exit. He’d had enough of this. Hopefully he’d find Kate still at Dr Lennon’s quarters with news that the cure for Hyde was complete. At least then they could get the hell out of this place.
Byron smiled; a glimmer of interest in his eyes as he stared daggers into Galen’s retreating back. “That sounded like a challenge. I hope you aren’t going to disappoint me.” He frowned as the American blatantly ignored him; Byron jogged a little to catch up to him, laughing pretentiously.
“Oh, come on Galen!” he bellowed above the din. “You know we really shouldn’t be enemies, why I’ll bet we have a lot in common… Kate for example… I’m sure there are plenty of things we could talk about there.” Byron laughed heartily, pushing through the crowds to reach the other man.
“For example…” he yelled, raising his voice another octave. He was shouting now, and those in earshot grew silent as all eyes fixed on the two men. “She used to make this little breathy moan during sex, kind of squeaky… a bit like a rusty gate come to think of it… does she still do that? … Galen?”
Galen turned around sharply, a baleful glare etched into all his features. Byron smiled arrogantly, knowing he’d hit the right spot. Like Kate, Galen could take all the personal criticism that could be thrown at him but turn it onto someone he cared about… Byron slowly closed the gap between them, his smile increasing with every step. Soon there were barely a few feet separating them, the atmosphere in the room had grown so tense that the surrounding bystanders had all grown silent, stepping back to give the two men some space.
Kate pushed open the heavy door to the dining hall and walked inside. Her hair was still damp underneath from her shower but she hadn’t wanted to keep Galen waiting any longer. She was already thirty minutes late, she just hoped that he hadn't decided to go look for her instead. Seeing the hushed crowds just a little way inside a confused frown spread across Kate’s face and she idly joined them, curious to see what was going on…
“She’s quite a little slut in the bedroom isn’t she?” said Byron with a grin, his voice both quiet and determined as he maintained his intimidatingly close distance. “And I’m guessing you should know if that self-satisfied swagger you had when you came in here was anything to go by.”
“Shut up, now,” growled Galen threateningly, his right hand balling into a fist by his side. “This is the last warning you’re going to get.”
“You know…” continued Byron with a provoking chuckle, “she gives head better than any other woman I’ve ever been with, and there’ve been a few I can tell you. Plus it has the added advantage of keeping her mouth occupied. Well, you know Kate, she’s a polite girl, never talks with her mouth full and her mouth was FULL I can tell you!”
Galen suddenly pulled back his clenched fist and punched Byron straight in the nose. The man cried out aloud as the force of Galen’s blow knocked him to the floor. He moaned and groaned, holding his nose which was bleeding so profusely that it dripped steadily onto the ground.
“You fucking bastard!” he cursed loudly, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and attempting to stem the flow of blood. “You broke my nose! You broke my fucking nose!”
“I’m break more than that if you keep on like this you filthy little piece of shit!” swore Galen fiercely. “You leave my wife alone, do you hear? And I mean you don’t go near her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t talk ABOUT her, ‘cause if I find out you’ve crossed the line again I’ll introduce you to a whole world of pain that’ll make a broken nose look like a stubbed toe.”
“What’s going on?”
Kate’s horrified and confused question seemed to fill the whole dining hall; everyone turned to look at her and the appalled expression on her face.
Galen looked at his wife and then at the miserable excuse for a man that still lay sprawled on the floor holding his bloody nose.
“Galen?” Kate asked again, turning to face him. “What… what happened?”
“Your husband is a fucking lunatic! That’s what happened!” Byron shouted angrily. “Llook what he did to me! The goddamn pair of you, I’ll be glad when you fucking leave!”
“Shut up, Byron!” Kate snapped in annoyance. “If I want your opinion I’ll ask for it once hell has frozen over!”
A quiet rousing laughter spread through the crowds. Kate ignored it as she strode over to Galen with a wilful determination, placing her hands on his shoulders in an attempt to placate the anger that she could feel surging through every fibre of his body.
“What happened?” she asked again, quieter this time though her voice was tinged with impatience. “What did he say?”
“He… he said…” Galen shook his head, taking hold of Kate’s hand. He wouldn’t talk about this here, not with all these people around. “Let’s just get out of here.”
“This isn’t over,” shouted Byron, staggering dizzily to his feet as the couple headed towards the door and the crowds began to disperse. “You two are going to pay for this... I promise you.”
Pillow Talk
***Saturday, 26 May 2007 – 9:52pm UK Time
Kate and Galen’s Quarters, The Coven of Sindell, England***
(1:52pm Pacific Time – Los Angeles Time)
The remainders of an enjoyable dinner date lay strewn across the room. Amongst the wild disarray of half-eaten Tuscany ravioli and Key Lime Pie, two empty wineglasses stood neglected by the edge of the bed, the equally empty bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon lay on its side a little further away surrounded by a pile of discarded clothes. Indulgent laughter and the occasional squeal of delight filled the room.
“Shhhh, keep it down,” chuckled Galen’s muffled voice from under the bedsheets as Kate’s exuberant giggles grew louder, “you’ll have the guards in again thinking I’m trying to do you some harm at this rate.”
“Then you’re going to have to stop doing what you’re doing,” laughed Kate, gasping breathlessly as she escaped from under the sheets, her head appearing as she slumped down into the pillows.
“I told you,” warned Galen playfully, making Kate giggle again as he remained under the blankets, moving around like some strange hulking creature. “Tell me where you hid it and I’ll stop…”
Kate squealed in surprise as Galen dragged her back under the covers, her smothered laughter filling the room again as he lay tormenting kisses across the most ticklish areas of her body.
“No! …Oh Gods no!” she cried out in protest, trying to escape his reach and failing miserably. “You’ll start singing again, I know you will…”
“Very well… you asked for it…”
The blankets on the bed jerked madly as the two moved underneath, Kate’s uncontrollable laughter issuing forth in response to Galen’s merciless tickling.
“Okay… okay…” she relented eventually, her breath ragged as she scrambled out of bed, clutching a bundle of sheets loosely around her naked body like a toga. “Okay… I give in!” laughed Kate as she pushed her hair back from her face. “I’ll get it.”
Kicking the sheets around to one side so she could walk without tripping, Kate waddled over to the wardrobe, dragging a chair in front before climbing up to reach the top. She smiled as she removed the small volume and returned to the bed. “There…” she said with a pout, dropping the book in front of him, before collapsing down onto the bed herself. “You’re such a big bully sometimes.”
“I’m a what?” asked Galen with a grin as he put the disputed book to one side. Drawing back the bedclothes he leapt forwards, grabbing Kate and pinning her down beneath him. “What was that you called me…?”
Kate giggled as Galen leaned in, holding her arms down and trapping her body under his weight. A few seconds passed as her laughter grew quiet and her smile turned more serious, and Galen looked down at Kate, his eyes languidly exploring her pretty features before coming to rest at her lips. He sighed contentedly, letting one of her wrists loose as he reached out his fingers towards Kate’s face, gently tracing the curve of her forehead and contours of her cheeks. As he leaned in to kiss her, Kate suddenly rolled her head to one side, escaping his lips.
“Hey… hey… come on…” Galen protested with a slight chuckle as she continually evaded his advances every time he made a move to kiss her. “Kate…” he said softly but urgently, cupping her cheek and holding her chin steady so that she couldn’t turn away again. He smiled; looking into her playful eyes as he gently stroked the edge of her chin with the tip of his thumb. “Let me kiss you…”
“Not until you admit that you’re a bully,” Kate said quietly but determinedly, turning her cheek as he moved to kiss her again.
Failing several more times, Galen sighed in defeat. Chuckling again he drew back, smiling down at her. “Okay… fine, I’m a bully. Now will you keep still?”
Kate nodded slowly, her eyes meeting her husband’s as he smiled again and leaned in close, his lips pressing against her own. With a satisfied sigh she yielded to his warm, gentle kiss, her own lips soft and compliant as he slowly made love to her with his mouth.
Unwinding the tangle of sheets from Kate’s body, Galen lowered himself into the warm cocoon she had created, wrapping the blankets back around his body once comfortable. Thus they lay together, snugly swathed in the crumpled cotton sheets and the combined heat of their bodies.
Galen gazed upon his wife as he lay in her arms and played with her hair which cascaded across the bed like scarlet silk framing her angelic face. He felt such love for her in that moment, lying in her relaxed embrace. He couldn’t imagine his life without her and yet at the same time he could almost hear Byron’s words ringing in his ears from earlier that day.
“Is something wrong?” Kate asked uncertainly, her brow furrowing in confusion as she observed the slight look of apprehension that resided in her husband’s face. He always got this kind of awkward, restless expression when something was troubling him, and his eyes scrunched up at the corners. She gently reached out a hand, combing her fingers through his hair tenderly. “What is it?” she urged softly, her voice full of concern. “What’s on your mind? Is it about this morning?”
Galen didn’t need to answer to confirm Kate’s worst fears; the look on his face communicated more than words ever could.
“Won’t you just tell me what happened?” Kate entreated him gently, feeling a mixture of annoyance and anger at the thought that Byron might have managed to spread some of his poison within her husband’s mind. Galen hadn’t wanted to talk about what had happened with her ex that morning and since she’d had little time to discuss it Kate hadn’t pushed the matter. Now she was beginning to wish that she had.
“Did he say something?” she asked quietly. She wouldn’t say Byron’s name aloud, not here while she and Galen lay in bed together, their naked bodies still entwined intimately in a precursor to their copulation. It would bring him into being, right there in their bed where they made love and that was the absolute last thing she wanted right now.
“He said a lot of things, most of which I won’t dignify by repeating…” sighed Galen in response, rolling free from Kate’s arms to lie on his side. He was quiet for a little while, trying to compose his thoughts. There was so much running through his head right now. He’d tried to push away all those doubts and worries that Byron had awoken but without anything else to occupy his mind he’d done nothing but dwell on them all day.
Kate propped her head up on her hand as she turned to face her husband, pulling the blankets that had come loose as Galen had broken their intimate embrace, up under her chin more securely. “But he has said something to upset you,” she speculated with worry. “Please, Galen… whatever he said… you know you can tell me.”
Averting her gaze disconsolately, Kate sighed with a measure of unease. “No doubt some of what he said was about me… I can… imagine the kind of things he’d say. Offensive and crude… he likes hurting people, Galen,” she said, raising her gaze to look into her husband’s face. “He gets off on it. He likes seeing that he’s got to you.”
“It wasn’t just that…” admitted Galen wearily, turning to Kate. He frowned a little as he looked into her eyes, so worried and frightened, as though she expected him to disown her or something. He forced a weak yet encouraging smile onto his face, reaching out his hand to gently stroke her forearm. “Kate… you would tell me, wouldn’t you? If… if you were ever… unhappy?”
“Of course I would,” said Kate softly, almost sighing in relief as Galen reached out and touched her. She had been afraid for a moment… thinking that perhaps Byron had said something to turn him against her. “I, I try to tell you everything… I know I’m not always successful but… how I feel, I always hope to tell you how I feel…” Kate frowned in curiosity. “Just what did he say to you?”
Galen shook his head. “Just that… he seemed to think that I was holding you back.”
Kate’s frown increased. “Holding me back? From what?”
“I don’t know…” Galen said in dismay. “From being all that you could be? Kate, I…” he fixed his wife with a steady gaze, his hand moving up to cup her cheek and stroking gently. “I never want you to give up being a witch, you know that right? It’s part of you, a part of who you are and I might not always understand it and to be honest it sometimes scares me… the things that you can do, how much power you have… but I wouldn’t change it. I want you to know that. I want to support you in everything… Everything that you want in life, your dreams, your fantasies, your hopes. The last thing I want is for you to wake up in ten years time and feel like you’ve wasted your life.”
“If I woke up in ten years and I was still lying by your side I wouldn’t have wasted a day,” said Kate resolutely. “I’m in love with you, Galen. That’s all that matters. I don’t know what he said to make you feel like that’s not enough.”
“Sometimes it isn’t,” admitted Galen sadly, “not if it means sacrificing what you really want, the things that mean the most to you. I love you Kate, but I don’t want you to feel that marrying me was a mistake, because I know I’ll never really understand what being a witch means to you, not in the way that another witch can. In my world you’ll always have to hide who you are, not like here where you can be at ease and feel safe. In our life together you’ll always have to pretend to be something that you’re not. I know you’ve not really had to experience that so far, but one day…”
“Galen, I’m a witch,” said Kate, her voice warm and reassuring. “I’ve always had to hide who I am and what I do. Of course it was different here, but I never planned on living at Sindell for the rest of my life. Sometimes what’s safe, what’s easy isn’t always what’s best. I want you and I’m willing to fight for it. I don’t care if I have to occasionally bend the truth, or hide a few things about my life. So long as the people I care about know who I am, that’s all that matters.”
“As for Byron…” Kate winced as his name left her lips, “he knows nothing about how I feel, and he knows even less about love. He can’t understand it because he doesn’t know what it is to love anyone… well, apart from himself that is.”
Galen chuckled at Kate’s words, smiling a little more comfortably. “I wish I hadn’t even brought this up,” he said with a reluctant sigh, trailing his hand down to rest in the curve of Kate’s waist. “I feel so stupid…”
“Don’t,” said Kate gently, stroking a comforting hand against Galen’s forehead and then running her fingers through his hair. “Honesty, remember? What upsets you affects me too. I’m glad that you can talk to me about what’s worrying you, it makes me love you more… if that’s possible,” she added with a smile.
Sitting up, Kate leaned over to retrieve the book that Galen had discarded earlier. She lay back down next to Galen and handed it to him before snuggling down into bed with him. “Why don’t you read some more to me?” she said, wrapping an arm across his chest. “But… no singing this time.”
Galen smiled, brushing his fingers through Kate’s long hair as she lay with her head resting against his shoulder. He opened the book and sighed in contentment before he began to read.
“The night was strangely solemn and still. In the small hours she whispered to him the whole story of how he had walked in his sleep with her in his arms across the Froom stream, at the imminent risk of both their lives, and laid her down in the stone coffin at the ruined abbey. He had never known of that till now…
“Why didn’t you tell me the next day?” he said. “It might have prevented much misunderstanding and woe.”
“Don’t think of the past,” said she. “I am not going to think outside of now. Why should we? Who knows what tomorrow has in store?”” *
_________________
*Extract from - Hardy, Thomas, Tess of the D’urbervilles (1891) p.436
Home Truths
***Saturday, 26 May 2007 – 10:23pm UK Time
Gentleman’s Lounge, The Coven of Sindell, England***
(2:23pm Pacific Time – Los Angeles Time)
Starring – Ralph Fiennes as Lord Byron H. Spencer and Richard E. Grant as Gerald Beaufort
Byron stalked into the smoke filled billiard room with a face as full of furious spite as it had that morning. The entire day had passed and his anger still refused to abate. He threaded his way through the small groups of men who had gathered tonight to drink brandy, smoke cigars and play cards in the same manner as the first gentlemen of Sindell had done centuries ago. It was perhaps the last remaining patriarchal tradition that the coven still allowed them to maintain, albeit grudgingly.
Sliding down into a sturdy leather armchair in a place where he could be on his own without interruption, Byron ordered a double whisky, neat, as the steward passed and picked up that morning’s copy of The Times. Flicking through the pages a morose smile illuminated his face as he noted that his father’s stock had risen another few points on the FTSE 100.
*The old man will be pleased,* he thought grimly, turning the pages disinterestedly.
As his drink arrived Byron sighed, folding up the paper and sipping at the smooth malt liquor, closing his eyes in relaxation for the first time since his altercation with Catherine’s husband earlier that day. He was determined to put the whole event from his mind henceforth, to drink as much as was needed to allow him to wipe all trace of that exasperating woman from his memory. That resolution was barely formed before he was reminded of the appalled expression he had seen in those extraordinary sapphire eyes of hers, as deep and melancholy as the ocean.
Opening his own eyes, Byron fixed his gaze on the cut glass tumbler in his hand, tilting what remained of the amber liquid from side to side and admiring the rainbow patterns that reflected inside each tiny glass prism. “I shall overcome this…” he said resolutely, his lips thin with hardened determination, “I shall, for the sake of my sanity…”
Removing his cigarette case from his pocket, Byron caught sight of his swollen, sore looking nose in the reflection of the silver casing. He scowled, removing one of the thin roll-ups and tapping the end to remove any loose tobacco. Placing the cigarette between his lips he was about to reach for his lighter when a flame suddenly hovered just in front of him.
Byron looked up to see Gerald Beaufort towering overhead, his hand outstretched as he offered the light to him. Byron’s frown increased but he lowered the end of his cigarette towards the bright flame, sucking air through the papers until he got a good blaze going.
“What do you want?” he asked abruptly as he drew back, billowing a cloud of white smoke from his mouth and nostrils. He fixed the ridiculous man with a hard gaze; he was dressed top to toe in an outlandish military style apparel. His red and navy coat was adorned with gold buttons and trim, and a white frilly shirt even poked through from beneath.
“Ah mon ami!” exclaimed Gerald as he sank down in one of the chairs next to Byron, waving his hand towards the steward to get his attention. “I feel a brandy is in order.”
“My asking what you wanted was not an invitation to join me,” growled Byron irritably. “If I wished to converse with fools I have your direct number.”
“As charming as always I see eh, Byron?” chuckled Gerald gaily. “It has always puzzled me how a man of your status has managed to avoid all forms of social politeness…”
“Don’t you have some underage juvenile to bugger, Gerald?” snapped Byron, draining his whiskey glass empty. “Or is it my turn to take it up the arse from you tonight?”
Gerald lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply without even the slightest flicker of emotion disturbing his countenance. “Why my dear boy, if you weren’t so uptight I might consider it,” he remarked sharply, flicking his lighter shut and replacing it in his pocket. “But thank-you for the offer, I will certainly keep it in mind…”
“Now listen here-” began Byron disconcertedly, stopping short as Gerald began to laugh in amusement. Byron felt a hot flush burn his cheeks and he drew in the last puffs of his cigarette before crushing it into the already full ashtray. “Just what in the name of Apollo did you want?” he asked in frustration, ordering another whisky from the valet as he returned with Beaufort’s drink. “Or were your ribald comments to be the summit of your conversation tonight?”
“In the absence of any other amusements…” grinned Gerald, dipping his index finger into his glass of brandy and then sucking it dry. “Just look around here,” he said with a contemplative sigh. “Within this room are some of England’s most eligible young men and yet they spend every night here, playing billiards, poker, smoking cigars, drinking brandy…” he held up his own glass in an illustrative manner. “Such a waste.”
“Make that a double… again… Peterson…” called out Byron to the steward, rolling his eyes in the direction of Gerald. The man looked like an absolute clown, it was an embarrassment to be seen in his company if nothing else. “If you insist on talking to me you’ll at least remove that ridiculous coat. Who are you supposed to be tonight? Admiral Nelson or Captain Birdseye?”
Gerald laughed heartily, slapping his hand on his thigh in enjoyment. “Oh, Byron my dear fellow,” he chuckled, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. “You are a wag, aren’t you? I can’t imagine why my darling Kitty would choose to reject your advances.”
“Ah… now I see,” said Byron coolly, his eyes glowering with realisation. “Tell me, Beaufort… Is there some reason why you would decide to make my relationship with Catherine your business?”
Gerald shrugged, unperturbed. “Not any in particular…”
“Then you will kindly keep your opinions on the matter to yourself.”
“As you wish,” sighed Gerald, resignedly. He took a slow sip from his glass, swirling the richly coloured liquor around the large bowl. “I hear things went well with the Watchers’ Council… as well as can be expected anyway. There have even been rumours…” he began tentatively, raising the elevation of his gaze to focus on his ill-mannered companion, “…people are saying that sister Kitty and Dr Lennon have managed to find a cure for this Hyde virus. I expect, if true, she’ll be going back to Los Angeles in the next few days… with her husband. I doubt we’ll ever see either of them again.”
“Good riddance,” muttered Byron darkly, lighting up another cigarette and glaring around the room in search of the valet with his drink.
“You know…” continued Gerald casually, “six years is a long time to hate someone, but it’s an even longer time to be in love with someone… especially when the person in question is unaware of such affections…”
“Oh this is classic, it really is!” exclaimed Byron with a derisive laugh. “Are you, Gerald Beaufort, one of the biggest queers in all of Europe, actually attempting to give me counsel on my personal relations?”
Once again Gerald ignored Byron’s attempts to insult him and continued as though the man hadn’t even spoken. “To have unrequited love is a lot like standing on your tiptoes to try and catch a star; we know it is a futile endeavour and yet we do it anyway. It is of course, much easier to pretend that you have no feelings, to hide your propositions behind a mask of cruelty and rancour. I seem to remember you and Kitty all those years ago… a very peculiar affair if memory serves… didn’t you ask her to be your mistress?”
“It wasn’t as simple as that,” growled Byron with barely restrained irritation. His curiosity as to Gerald’s motives was aroused nonetheless and he decided to indulge this farce until it ran its course. “And if you must talk about her then her name is Kate, and kindly desist with all this bloody ‘Kitty’ nonsense.”
Nodding his head in assent, Gerald took another sip from his brandy, wetting his lips with the aged liquor before continuing. “Things are never simple…” he said thoughtfully, running his finger around the rim of the glass, “and Kate, she is a particularly passionate young woman… if not a little romantic in her ideas when it comes to the ways of the world.”
“You can say that again…” grumbled Byron, nodding his head at the valet as he finally brought over his much-needed drink.
Gerald kept a close eye on the other man as he spoke. “She doesn’t understand, of course, the kind of responsibility it is to have titles and wealth, a great responsibility, and also a great burden. You father… I hear he is quite strict, very… stuck in his ways. He perhaps already has a bride picked out for you? A young woman of breeding no doubt, from a prestigious family of wealth and pedigree, someone to forge connections with, elevate your name, provide you with children of noble stock.”
“Is there some point to this?” asked Byron with a weary sigh, rubbing his fingers against his forehead irritably.
Tipping the last of his brandy down his throat, Gerald set the glass down on the table. “Your father had your life mapped out from an early age, no doubt? But you… you were in love with Catherine. You would have chosen her, if you’d had a choice. I expect that you even tried to broach the subject with your father all those years ago, when you were younger, less… jaded than you are now. Maybe you even believed that he would accept someone like Kate into your family, that he wouldn’t mind that his only son desired a woman so beneath him.”
“Kate? For my wife?” Byron held his hand over his chest as he laughed in amusement. His face twisted into an expression of hilarity though beneath all that outward bravado his eyes – dark and tormented – betrayed his inner feelings on the subject. “You do live in a fantasy world, don’t you Beaufort?” he protested, laughing again only this time his amusement seemed less cocksure and his voice trailed off into uncertainty. “The idea… it’s ludicrous.”
“There’s no need to pretend for me, the concept of overbearing fathers is one that I’m all too familiar with.” Gerald leaned forward, almost sympathetically as he closed the distance between them both, his voice quieter and more sensitive. “So what did he do, dear boy? Threaten to cut you off? Disown you? I’m guessing that it was he who convinced you to take her for your mistress instead. It would certainly allow you to provide her with a more than comfortable lifestyle and at the same time you could uphold the family name and marry your Lady Winchester or Countess of Banbury…” Gerald sighed, lighting up another cigarette as his first came to an end. “And Kate… of course she didn’t understand, how could she? Not of your world, her only guide to life is what she feels in her heart. She never realised that by asking her to be your mistress it meant that… you were in love with her.”
“If you’ve quite finished,” spat Byron angrily, downing the last of his whisky in one go. “I don’t have to sit here while you try to psychoanalyse my life.”
“Byron…”
“No,” he growled aggressively, “I’ve listened to you make assumptions about my upbringing, my family, my responsibilities. You go so far as to lecture me about my feelings for a woman I haven’t seen in over six years… What makes you think that you have any right to say such things? Let alone that your words might hold even a grain of accuracy.”
“You do,” said Gerald simply, sitting up straight again and crossing his legs more comfortably. “Your conduct… ever since that girl came back here. You’ve bent over backwards to try and humiliate and degrade her. That stunt you pulled in her room, provoking her husband this morning… A man like you doesn’t have need for such behaviour unless it suits him and,” Gerald narrowed his eyes scrutinisingly, “I’ve seen the way you act when someone mentions her name, when there’s the smallest chance you might run into her… For a youth to act so irrationally would be amusing, but a man of your age, Byron, should know better. It’s quite ridiculous.”
“Really?” asked Byron, struggling to control the rage that was boiling through his veins. “And these are your opinions on the matter?”
“You missed your chance, Byron,” said Gerald firmly. “The truth is as simple as that. You’ve had years to come to terms with this and yet you chose to ignore it until the situation became more convenient for yourself.”
“There IS no situation!” laughed Byron, growing more irritable and annoyed with every passing minute.
Gerald inhaled deeply, trying to calm his own irritation. “Then just listen,” he instructed the other man strictly, rising to his feet. “Whatever you may feel towards her, if you care at all you’ll let her be. For once, Kate is happy. If you try to get in the way of that happiness, I will make sure that you suffer for it.”
“What is it with everyone today?” declared Byron, jumping to his feet to match Gerald’s aggressive stance. “So full of threats! Get on with your own life, Beaufort! And keep the hell out of mine!”
“Sit down,” ordered Gerald sternly, his usual cool, blue eyes burning with an inner fire. As the steward passed by he grabbed the bottle of whisky from his tray and slammed it down in front of Byron, next to his empty glass. “Now you’re going to drink this,” he instructed, his voice hard and firm as he slumped back down into his own chair, “and then we’ll see if you’re any more rational…”
delancre learns sam is the guardian
*** Saturday, May 26, 2007, 11:20 pm ***
*** Delancre’s study ***
Ambrose Delancre strode into his study, fastidiously wiping blood off his hands. He was obviously barely in control of his raging anger as he glared at the little man seated before his desk awaiting his arrival.
“This had better be good, Miles,” Delancre spat in a clipped tone as he dropped into the chair behind his desk. He studied the scholarly man with a disgusted look on his face. Everything was going wrong today and now he had to deal with Bertram Miles and his cringing cowardice on top of it all. He’d just spent too damn much time down in the conditioning chamber assessing the damages done by that upstart Kaoshian demon. Not only had the detestable worm managed to completely destroy the chamber and thousands of dollars of equipment, but he’d also killed Hollis Moore. The man had been a truly valuable member of Delancre’s organization. Delancre had even genuinely liked Moore. Kyle Ashton was truly irritating in the extreme.
Add all that to the damn Pelor mess, and Delancre was certainly testing the limits of his control. He desperately wished for an outlet for all this mounting rage, but he didn’t want to lose it with someone like Bertram. What would be the pleasure in the easy slaughter of such a pathetic man?
Bertram Miles sat stock still, visibly shaking. He knew by reputation that Delancre was capable of terrible things when he was angry. Bertram could easily see that Delancre was indeed very angry now. Still, technically, what Bertram had come to tell the man was good news, and waiting would only make Delancre angrier.
“Come now, man,” Delancre snapped as Bertram said nothing. “I’ve too much to do now. If you’ve something to say, then say it!”
“Yes… sir… uhm… sorry,” Bertram stammered.
Delancre snorted with displeasure, but managed not to interrupt.
“I wouldn’t have called you… I didn’t want to inconvenience you, Sir,” Bertram continued. “I just… Well, I’ve finally managed to translate a difficult phrase in the prophecy… and…”
“You called me here to congratulate you on finally doing your job?!” Delancre snapped.
“No… no… no, Sir,” Bertram hastily responded. “It’s just this bit here…”
Bertram pulled a brass tablet off his lap and laid it down on the desk. He pointed to a few lines etched into it.
“This… it’s about the ‘Brother of the Soul’,” Bertram said. There was an edge of excitement in his voice now. “You remember we talked about that reference before.”
“Yes, yes,” Delancre waved his hand in the air dismissively. “I recall. The man… Sam, or whatever… the priest who was working for Mother Mariah.”
Bertram nodded. “Yes… this passage is about him. Sam…” he replied. “It… I’ve just managed to nail it down. It’s given me pause so many times but now, well, I think this may be the answer to your problem with the girl.”
Delancre paused. “What are you saying, Miles?” he asked abruptly. “Does this have something to do with the child? Can this help me to get her under my control?”
Bertram smiled, nodding enthusiastically. “Maybe. I think it could. You see, the passage… well it basically explains that the man, Sam, he’s become a sort of temporary Guardian. I mean, that’s what I think it means. Basically, it’s like a contingency clause. In the event that Amanda is unfit in some way, then Sam becomes Maia’s Guardian. He would be the one with the power to pass that guardianship on, Sir.”
Delancre’s eyes grew wide at the man’s words. “Sam… Sam is the Guardian now? Are you sure?”
Bertram nodded. “I… Yes, that’s definitely what this means.”
“Oh, Miles… that’s…” Delancre sat back in his chair, a stunned expression on his face. This was the best news he’d heard all day. Samuel Aubrey was practically a nonentity. Taking Maia from the man would be all too easy. And Amanda - stubborn, infuriating Amanda - she was no longer necessary. Delancre had been treating her with kid gloves this whole time, but now he didn’t have to any more. He could unleash his rage and it wouldn’t matter if she lived or not. How… unbelievably delicious.
*Torture,* Delancre mused. *I can do anything I want now. I can make her pay for all of this, for every damned irritation. How… fantastic.*
Delancre grinned maliciously at the thought. “Miles, you’re a genius, a true genius. Thank you so very much.”
Bertram smiled tentatively back. “Yes, sir… you’re welcome.”
“All right, I have things to do,” Delancre said, springing from the chair. “You, go on and get back to work. I’ll take care of Sam Aubrey soon.”
Bertram nodded, rising quickly and hurrying out of the room. Once he was gone, Delancre called his assistant and gave him explicit instructions. Then he went to his quarters to change and prepare himself for all the fun to come.
The torture begins
*** Saturday, May 26, 2007, around midnight ***
*** A special room beneath the Watchers’ Council Mansion ***
Lord Ambrose Delancre stood at the far end of the largest chamber among those dug out beneath the mansion. The room had once been a wine cellar, but there was no trace of bottles or casks now. In the short time since he left Bertram, Delancre had managed to transform the room into a place that De Sade himself would have been proud of. The First Elder had sent servants to the concubine’s quarters to retrieve all of his favorite toys. A rack was set up near one wall, on which lay whips, chains, flail, a half dozen sharp blades, a handful of clubs, and two long, barbed sticks that held an electrical charge when turned on.
Delancre had used each item personally with his many demon lovers. He was an expert at torture. It was something of a hobby of his. Nothing quite matched the thrill of totally dominating a woman, especially a powerful demonic one. Ambrose knew that the intensity of his climax during those sessions was directly related to the amount of damage he inflicted on his helpless partners. That was why he was so looking forward to this night, and to each night Amanda managed to hold out. The longer she survived, the more he would be able to hurt her and the better that would feel.
Ambrose finished unbuttoning his fine linen shirt and passed it to the waiting demon beside him. His clothes would be taken out of the room so that there would be nothing between his flesh and the blood and sweat of his victim. Ambrose loved to end the evening covered in the physical evidence of his art. He knew, though, that he wouldn’t be able to go right to the arms of his beloved Alessa after this. He would have to seek out one of the demoness’ that were housed in the room at the rear of the barracks. They served as whores most of the time, relieving the demon troops of their “tension”, but Ambrose had often picked one of them to service his needs from time to time, although admittedly far less often since he’d begun to see the delectable Miss Hunt.
*Although, thanks to Alessa, I did have to relieve myself there after that first night posing as Stuart,* Delancre thought to himself. He’d come back from that dinner so worked up, it had taken hours to cool down, and the unfortunate Tellar demon he’d chosen had been yet another unfortunate victim of his overzealous passion. That was one of the things he appreciated the most about Alessa. He knew that she was a match for his wild hunger, but he would never demean her by using her body to satisfy his darkest desires. She was far too special to take the place of one of his demon whores. This was why he would have to come up with a good excuse for not making it to her bed this night… or for the nights to come. Still, once he’d gotten himself under control, he’d be able to return to her and indulge himself in her addictive lovemaking.
A pair of Trenoil’ka demons came through the door, dragging the semiconscious form of Amanda Blaise between them. Ambrose licked his lips in anticipation.
“Strip her down,” he ordered brusquely. “Don’t worry about being gentle.”
The Trenoil’ka grinned at Ambrose’s words and then hurried to execute the command. In moments, they had divested Amanda of the filthy dress she wore and were attaching shackles to her wrists, throat, and ankles. She was to be suspended from the ceiling from chains attached to the shackles, dangling by her wrists. The one about her throat was attached to a chain that extended back to the wall, with only the smallest amount of slack. The chain could be loosened or tightened at Ambrose discretion. The same was true of the chains attached to the shackles on Amanda’s ankles. At his whim, Ambrose could use those chains to stretch her legs apart, which he knew would add yet another layer of humiliation to her torment.
*The demons sure are enjoying this,* Ambrose thought, his mouth twisting into a smile. The two Trenoil’ka made sure to roughly caress Amanda’s naked flesh over and over as they bound her in chains. Ambrose wasn’t surprised to see it. The quartet of Trenoil’ka demons had been a favorite of the woman during her sexually aggressive phase. They obviously had enjoyed her attentions and lamented her change of heart.
Ambrose wicked smile grew even broader. After the torture session tonight, he could turn Amanda over to the “tender” care of the demon brood. Surely that would push her closer to the breaking point.
Amanda was finally bound completely. The Trenoil’ka lingered. “Leave us!” Ambrose barked. He preferred not to share such delightful moments. Torture was a very personal thing between two beings. He was not an exhibitionist.
Once the demons had left the room, Ambrose turned his full attention on Amanda. She was fully conscious now. Her eyes darted about the small room, and he could see the fear in them. It only served to ratchet his excitement up a notch.
“Yes, Amanda,” Ambrose all but purred. “The stakes have changed a bit as you can see.”
He moved over to her, leaning close and dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I learned something so unexpected today. It seems that dear Samuel is The Guardian now. Did you know that?”
Amanda’s eyes widened with horror. She hadn’t known. What a delightful turn of events! “Ah, I see. The Powers or whatever… they went behind your lovely back, didn’t they? Well, and you see, that’s just the thing about some all powerful force that tries to manipulate us. It’s so very impersonal.”
“If you’d just give up on your foolish loyalty to the ‘good guys’,” Ambrose reached out to tenderly stroke a hand down her face and neck, “you could serve a much more ‘personal’ master.”
“Give in to me, Amanda,” Ambrose urged. “Serve me and I will give you everything. Start by telling me who helped you, who cured you of the Hyde virus. Give in, Amanda.”
Daye refused to answer Delancre. She’d said it already so many times. She would never give in to him. She would rather die first.
Ambrose sighed regretfully. He’d known she wouldn’t just give him what he wanted, but good form demanded that he at least offer her the chance to. *Now, the real fun begins.*
Ambrose stepped away from Amanda and moved quickly to the rack on the wall and pulled down a long, thick black stick. To begin with, a simple beating would do. Amanda wouldn’t break from it, but he would be able to gauge exactly how much pain she could endure before she lost consciousness. He would use that information as a guide on the nights to come after this one.
Grinning in anticipation, Ambrose purposefully moved towards Amanda, who watched him with wide, anxious eyes. He began to work her over, alternating quick, brutal blows with powerful slower ones. She watched him, her green eyes brimming with tears, as bruises and welts bloomed on her tender flesh. With each flinch, each small cry of pain, Ambrose grew more aroused. As her body slowly mottled with the physical signs of his dominance, Ambrose breathing came in sort pants. Both the exertion of the torture and the heightened excitement left him covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his eyes glowing with mad desire.
Daye stared in horror at Ambrose as he continued to beat her mercilessly. He knew exactly how to aim and land the blows with the thick metal club in order to create the worst pain. Her whole body was on fire, burning and aching from the assault. She couldn’t contain the cries of pain, couldn’t stop her muscles from shying away from the club. Her already raw wrists were a separate agony, as were the muscles in her arms and shoulders. Sweat rolled down her body as she struggled to pull herself up, to alleviate some of the pressure on her wrists. The sweat was salty and made her wounds burn all the more.
Daye had no idea how long the beating lasted. Blissful unconsciousness hovered just beyond her reach and she began to pray that she would finally pass out. Such a thing would be a sign of weakness to Delancre, but that no longer mattered. For however long it lasted, she would be free from the pain and degradation.
Almost worse than the physical pain, was the sight of Ambrose, naked and aroused as he beat her. His face was contorted into an almost ecstatic expression. His tongue came out from time to time to wet his lips and Daye could see that he was salivating. His blue eyes burned intently into hers and from time to time he would pause, taking a moment to stroke her here or pinch her there. Amanda realized that for Ambrose Delancre this brutality was the ultimate form of foreplay. It disgusted and shamed her to suddenly be the object of his lust.
Ambrose was in heaven. Amanda was completely at his mercy. He could see the pain, the defeat, the humiliation in her eyes. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. Her whole body was covered in the marks he’d made. Except for her face, her beautiful face. Ambrose had refrained from striking her there. He didn’t want any bruising or swelling to interfere with her ability to speak or cry out. He didn’t want there to be any block to seeing her every feeling in her expressive eyes. So, her face was unmarked.
Ambrose, therefore, saw when finally the light in her eyes began to dim. He sensed that she was losing consciousness. He pulled back just as she gave a final cry and slipped into the darkness. He stepped back. Amanda hung there, her head lolling forward on her neck. Her skin was still turning a mottled blue, black, and purple. At some point, Ambrose had tightened the chain holding her ankles, so that her legs spread wide apart.
Ambrose thrust a hair through his soaked and matted curls, grinning as he recalled using the long cold steel to violate her. Amanda had shrieked then. Her screams had nearly pushed him over the edge. He’d never climaxed during a session like this before, but he’d come damn close this time. If she proved this resilient, this defiant, every time, then Ambrose knew he’d never manage to control himself.
Ambrose grabbed a towel that he’d left on the floor and quickly wiped off most of the sweat and blood covering his body. He moved to the door and called out to the two Trenoil’ka waiting a few feet away. The demons came quickly.
“I’m done with her,” Ambrose said. “You can take her back to her cell. Send for one of the demoness’ to clean her up and treat those open wounds. Make sure she is fed and given some water. I’ll want her brought back here tomorrow night. Until then, as long as you follow my instructions, she’s all yours. Do whatever you want to her, but make sure she’s ready for me when I get here… and that she’s alive. Understand?”
The demons were both grinning at him. “Yes, sir,” the one on the left replied. “Perfectly.”
Ambrose nodded and turned away, heading out the door. He didn’t even glance back. He hurried to the whore’s quarters knowing full well that at least one of them would fall victim to his powerful hunger before the dawn.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Sunday, May 27th, 2007, 4:17 am
Delancre's quarters
The sky was just beginning to lighten with the first hint of dawn as Ambrose Delancre slipped through the door of his quarters and tiptoed across the foyer towards the half closed door of his bedroom. He'd just left the mangled corpse of a Rossak demon on the floor of one of the rooms in the barracks. A group of his personal servants would show up in a few minutes to carry out the remains and have them neatly disposed of. Ambrose avoided any contact with them once they were dead. He found that so distasteful that he would disengage immediately after he'd killed one of the demoness' and proceed to ignore it completely while he quickly cleaned himself up. That had always been his way.
Now, after having worked off most of his raging lust on the unfortunate Rossak, Ambrose felt it was safe to slip back into bed with Alessa. He'd grabbed a quick shower and change of clothes from the bathroom off his office.
Quietly inching the bedroom door open, Ambrose moved silently into the darkened room and tried to get into the bed without waking Alessa.
Alessa moved between the sheets when she felt cold fingers playfully touch her bare back. She opened her eyes drowsily and turned around to see Delancre's smiling face only inches from hers. She smiled groggily, her eyes adjusting to the little light of the bedchamber, and she burrowed into his shoulder. He was cool to the touch and his hair was still damp, he had obviously just showered; she inhaled deeply, contented. Then she froze for a second. Underlying the freshness of soap there were much more unwelcoming scents - sweat, sex… blood and violence? She couldn’t help but shiver and she burrowed even closer to hide her distress.
"Mmm, you smell beautifully, dear," she said, composing herself. "What time is it? Where have you been? I fell asleep waiting for you."
Delancre let his hands ramble over Alessa's naked body. He loved the feel of her skin against his palms. Just lying next to her had desire clawing at him. He sighed. He had obviously only managed to restrain the hungry beast the night's fun had unleashed, not tame him entirely.
"I had important work to take care of," he replied vaguely. In his mind's eye he could still see Amanda hanging as she'd been not long before. He could almost hear her soft, anguished cries. Ambrose felt his blood grow hot at the memory. "Actually, I'm afraid I may be tied up with this for the next few nights. It's a very special project, and I don't trust anyone else to handle it. I have to do this personally."
"Oh." Alessa sounded disappointed, and she was surprised to notice that in a way she was. "But you will come back? Like tonight?"
"What time is it, anyway?" she asked again. She started to respond to her lovers' caress and was thankful that with his human eyes he couldn’t possibly see her face in the darkness. "Not too late, I hope."
She purposely relaxed, but she was thinking about the 'important work' he had been doing; if his scent was telling it wasn’t something nice at all. She had sensed sex in him before, she knew he was sleeping with others, possibly his demonesses; but never this high stung combination of lust and violence. She vowed to try and learn what was happening.
"Very late," Ambrose replied. He continued to run his hands over Alessa's body, wondering how soon he'd have to get up and get started on his other duties today. He couldn't seem to help it, last night had left him feeling so worked up, that now he wanted nothing more than to spend the whole morning in bed with this woman. "Or, very early, I suppose, depending on your perspective. The sun will be up all too soon. And then I'll have more work demanding my time."
Alessa arched her back and moaned at his expert touch, and as much as she wanted to submit to her feelings, she needed to know about yesterday. She had waited for him to say something, to betray himself eventually. But she should have known he was too good at deceit to do so.
"Auch!" she said, when he playfully bit her shoulder, and hurried to explain. She needed to know if the lie rang true to him. "I spent too many hours at the swimming pool these past two days, I'm sunburnt." She suppressed a shiver when she saw the look of satisfaction on his face. *Pleasure and pain are interchangeable words for Lord Delancre,* she had to remind herself. She had already experienced it, although he had always been careful not to trespass the boundaries.
With a sudden twist, she rolled over him and straddled his body, pinning his arms back towards the mat. "Now, this is better," she said, her mouth only inches from his and her breasts brushing his naked chest. She heard him suck in his breath and she grinned mischievously. "There's soothing lotion on the night table, maybe you'd like to rub me some?," she asked, running her tongue through her lower lip.
Ambrose grinned. As much as he loved to be the dominant, he was growing more and more fond of occasionally having Alessa turn the tables on him. As his trust in her grew, it became easier and easier to relax and just enjoy her.
"Maybe I would," he murmured, reaching up to cup her breasts in his hands.
"I guess this means you forgive me for being so busy last night?" he asked. "There was a sudden breakthrough with a disloyal employee and I have to see if I can somehow manage to salvage something from the unfortunate turn of events. I'll be working every night until I can manage a breakthrough."
Delancre paused, his hands still cupping her. He kneaded with his fingers, Ambrose's eyes dark with desire and his mouth in a sad little pout. "I hate to think of how much this will keep me away from you, my sweet."
Now that was interesting news. A disloyal employee - she wondered if he meant Kyle. She would try to learn more about that. And at least he hadn't thought twice about her lie. It seemed that Inés' ruse had been perfect, although she would have learnt by now if it hadn't.
To Delancre she sighed, and leant to kiss him lightly on the lips. "Well, I guess I'll have to sacrifice myself near the swimming pool again." She retreated quickly when he raised his head to kiss her more forcefully. "That's my burden, relax and enjoy the sun while you work yourself to extenuation…" She sighed again, feigning immense sorrow. "Poor dear, I reckon we'll just have to make do with late nights then."
"I guess we will," he answered, and he quickly moved his hands from her breasts to tickle her beneath her arms.
She giggled as she fell upon his chest when her arms gave way under her. She kissed him and squealed when he rolled her mouth down. She looked over her shoulder, amused, and felt him sit on the small on her back.
"Hey, that's cheating!" she cried, watching him rummage on the night table. "What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously.
Delancre shrugged innocently, staring down at the broad expanse of Alessa's bare back. He finally palmed the small bottle of aloe lotion and lifted it, pouring some directly onto his palms. He leaned forward, his body brushing against Alessa's as he began to rub the cool, soothing ointment into her sunburnt shoulders.
She almost purred at the feeling of his hands rubbing her back. Even if her skin wasn’t really sunburnt and she didn’t need the ointment it felt delicious on her back.
"That's delicious, Ambrose," she said and relaxed as he worked on her back, stroking and kneading her flesh. It was in these moments that she could forget who he was and just enjoy it.
Gradually, Delancre's touch grew bolder, his hands travelling further down and teasing her breasts or sliding down her butt and legs, and the stroking mixed with soft pinching and twisting. Soon all her back side was slick with ointment, and she laid still eagerly waiting for his next move.
Delancre lost himself in the joy of loving his woman. His gentle comforting touch grew bold and arousing. He was soon dropping gentle kisses on her back and shoulders, tweaking her nipples, and rubbing his bare chest against her smooth skin. He bent to nip at her earlobe and whispered dark, suggestive things in a low, guttural voice.
Alessa moaned and turned in his arms, feeling his sticky chest brush on her and goose bumps form from the friction. She twined her hands behind his head and pushed him down towards her, "See? I told you we'd make do with late nights," she gloated before kissing him again.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
27th May, 10:31pm
The sun had all but disappeared beneath the dark horizon, leaving the city of LA to the glow of street lamps and artificial neon lighting. Still, after so long, there were moments like these where Darian was still in awe of the 21st century. He had grown up long before the arrival of sky scrapers and endless row of Starbucks, and there was a time when at this hour a city would be dead. Nowadays, he thought, as he gazed at the crowd of people walking every which way, it seemed no one ever went to sleep.
Readjusting his grip on the brown paper grocery bag, Darian sighed. In a city that never stopped, it was impossible to get some peace and quiet. The streets were always bustling, and even at home there was always something; Cole’s music, banging from other apartments... To the fae, alone time seemed like an idea of the past.
Turning down the road that led back to the apartments Darian stopped, looking instead at the small park that rested on the other side of the street. Usually it was always busy, filled with playing children or, at this time, rebellious teenagers meeting to get their daily buzz. Tonight however, as if answering his prayer for some peace, the tiny clearing was empty; peacefully empty.
*What harm could it do if I’m a little late getting home?* he thought, making his way over to the other side of the street and sitting himself under a large tree that rested near the back of the park.
From the shadows of a crop of trees behind the bench, Kyle watched Darian get settled. He had spent all day tracking the fae down, starting at the Armoury, until he found him at Poplar Ave. But there was no way the demon could have got at him inside there. Even in his rage-filled state he knew that, and so had been forced to bide his time waiting for Darian to leave.
Unfortunately, the lack of recent sleep had taken its toll, and just after settling down to stake Darian out, Kyle fell asleep. He awoke to find Darian had gone, and had spent a furious thirty minutes finding him again.
Last night, after breaking out of the mansion, he had just wandered round in a daze for hours…
Kyle shook his head to physically remove the thoughts. He didn’t like to think about last night, didn’t want to think about what he had been thinking. No, all he cared was that he had awoken from his daze filled with a renewed determination to kill them all.
And now here he had the first one - completely unaware of what was about to happen.
Kyle knew, though. He knew exactly what was coming: death.
Keeping in human form, he edged closer to the bench where Darian sat, creeping up behind him without making a sound.
Soon, soon…
Darian’s head perked up, and his eyes instantly darted around. No human could ever have felt the disturbance, but to a faery the sudden imbalance of the elements was strikingly obvious. Swirling with the green and yellow energies of the earth and wind, the man could feel the burning red power of fire creep its way into the park. Rising to his feet, he tried to get a better look around. *Huh, maybe just my imagination,* he conceded, seeing he was still alone.
Kyle hesitated as Darian rose to his feet. Had he been spotted? He didn’t think so, but Darian had definitely been alerted to danger. Maybe he should back off-
No. He continued creeping closer.
When the demon was in leaping distance he took a deep breath and gathered himself, then leapt at Darian - changing his form in the process - but with no roar or cry; nothing to give him away. The two collided in a blaze of fire and went tumbling to the ground, Darian letting out a shout of surprise.
The fae couldn’t help but cry out in pain, as Kyle’s fire spread across his arms. “What the he..?” he began, as he struggled to break free of the demon’s fiery grip. A few seconds later, he had managed to remove the attacker, but that only managed to set him up for more attacks. The Kaoshian’s fists began slamming into his gut, over and over, drawing the wind from his body, causing him to keel over just in time for his face to greet Kyle’s knee, which slammed oh so pleasantly into his nose.
Darian flew back, landing awkwardly against a bench. He could feel blood pouring down his face, and on top of that and the burns, he wouldn’t be surprised if a couple of his ribs had been broken.
The brief moment of respite allowed Darian to fall into somewhat of a defensive stance, and finally get a good look at the attacker. “The boy!?” he cursed, seeing the demon was the same kid that had killed Pelor days before.
*But I can't… he’s just a kid,* he deliberated, jumping back at the last minute to avoid a club-like tail swinging for his temple.
“Kid, stop, I don’t want to hurt you!” he cried out, as Kyle approached for another round.
“I’ve heard that before,” Kyle snarled as he approached Darian, slamming a fist in his gut, then his face. “It didn’t stop you before, did it? Didn’t stop any of you…” he muttered, pounding on Darian at the same time.
Being forced down to one knee, Darian could hardly see through the crimson liquid that was trickling down into his eyes. The kid was strong, and in a matter of moments he had managed to give him a beating and a half, and no doubt if this kept up, he’d be dead in no time soon. “I told you, I didn’t want to hurt you, but if you don’t let up…!” he cried, summoning a blast of wind that forced Kyle backwards, momentarily halting his attack.
“I’m not going to have a choice!” Darian rose to his full height, and wiped the blood from his face. “This is your last chance, kid.”
“Tell it to somebody who cares,” Kyle muttered as he climbed to his feet, then threw himself at Darian in a savage flurry of fists and feet. Darian was off balance for a moment but then, true to his word, responded in kind; first by blocking Kyle’s attacks, then launching his own. One punch slipt past Kyle’s defences – which was not difficult, as the demon had devoted almost everything to offence – and collided with the side of his face.
“That’s more like it,” the Kaoshian said under his breath, then began throwing more punches.
“I don’t know what happened, but Delancre really screwed you up didn’t he?” Darian muttered, as he dodged beneath a vicious hook, and responded with an equally violent uppercut. The fierce blow sent Kyle reeling back, and left him no time to defend against the storm of kicks the fae continued with. It was if the man moved like lightning, his feet striking all over Kyle’s body, before finally finishing off with a roundhouse that knocked the boy to the ground.
“Listen, you have to stop,” Darian pleaded, feeling increasingly guilty each time he landed a new hit.
“No,” Kyle managed to utter through clenched teeth against the pain. *Not now, not now I’m so close…* He unsteadily pulled himself to his feet to stand before Darian again, assuming a fighting stance. The fae could see how Kyle’s legs wobbled, and the guilt he felt increased dramatically.
He was only a kid; a kid taken by Delancre and indoctrinated into this rage-filled mindless killing machine. Darian could only guess at the psychological damage warring in Kyle’s head. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, harm him any more; physically or otherwise.
Kyle threw a punch, but Darian side-stepped it. Kyle threw another, only to have Darian dodge this, too. After a third, Darian stepped back out of range and continued to do so as Kyle advanced until he got the idea.
"Come on, then!" Kyle roared, his face flustered. His vision was red with rage. "Hit me! Fucking hit me!" His arms were held open in invitation. *Hit me! Hit me!* The words ran through his head. *Why won't he hit me?*
"No," was Darian's only answer as he backed off a couple more paces.
"Yes you fucking will! Or I'll fucking kill you!"
But Darian shook his head. "No, I won't hurt you. But I will help you."
"What?!?" Kyle cried out. His breathing was coming quicker and quicker, his throat hoarse and he was visibly on the verge of tears. *He has to hit me.* "I don't need help! But you will if you don't kill me!"
Darian simply folded his arms across his chest.
"Kill me! It's how it goes! I kill you, and you kill me! You have to kill me..." Kyle was practically sobbing now; his legs buckling until he fell to his knees and appeared to be begging, but also confused. "You have to... it's what I deserve..."
"The only thing you deserve, kid," Darian said, compassionately, "is a helping hand."
Kyle wasn't even really focusing on Darian now. His pleadings had turned into a pent up ramble finally released. "He has to kill me. I know he can do it, I know he's strong enough... I know it... it is what I deserve... the things I've done... death... can't go on living like this... can't go on... the pain inside, the emptiness..." By this point the demon had collapsed into a sobbing, shaking ball.
Now that he was not so violent, Darian came closer and laid a hand on his heaving back. The fae could see Kyle was fast becoming an emotional wreck. There was no way he could make him feel better in this state, and besides this had probably been coming on for some time. All he could really do was let it run its course. "Death isn't the way out. It'll be like backing down, and you told me you don't back down. So you're going to have to live with it all, I'm afraid. And I'm going to help you."
"I'm... just so... tired..." Kyle managed between sobs.
Darian stayed with him until, at last, after throwing up, the demon finally exhausted himself and drifted off to sleep.
Friends Reunited - Part One
Friends Reunited – Part One
***Sunday, 27 May 2007 – 11:41am UK Time
The Warrior Circle Training Grounds, The Coven of Sindell, England***
(3:41am Pacific Time – Los Angeles Time)
Reintroducing – Claire Danes as Inanna ‘Anna’ Fairchild
“They’re all very… stalwart, aren’t they?” remarked Kate thoughtfully as she watched the team of warriors execute a perfect manoeuvre, their muscles rippling beneath the tight black fabric of their uniforms.
The weather had changed again and today it was so blisteringly hot that the Warrior’s Circle had all come outside to practice their formations. A line of twenty well-built men and women separated out as they stepped into another complex configuration and began their kata again, moving with faultless symmetry, every kick and block flowing with an almost natural ease. Across on the other side of the grounds, another group practised swordsmanship and the sound of metal clashing on metal echoed around the courtyard.
“Well, they are well trained,” commented Michael Dallinger as he also watched the warriors carry out their routine drill. He smiled at the thoughtful expression on Kate’s face as she observed the formations with careful attention. “Have you chosen yet?”
“Not quite…” said Kate as she looked down at her list of potential candidates who would join her when she and Galen returned to America. Although Hestia had given her complete autonomy over the decision she’d still offered her opinions on which she thought to be the best warriors and spellcasters in Sindell. “I still have another… seven positions to fill…” said Kate, scratching her forehead in contemplation. “Maybe I’m just being too picky.”
“There’s no crime in taking such a decision seriously,” commented Michael supportively. “Just remember, a team is more than just power and strength, they also have to be able to work well together.” Turning to face Kate, he held out his hand, nodding towards the pad that she held in her hands. “May I?”
“Of course,” said Kate, handing over her shortlist. While Michael perused her notes she returned her attention to the activities on the field. Several of the warriors were now working on their battle magic, conjuring bright orbs of destructive magic and illusion spells while instructing some of the newbies on how to properly integrate such effects into their exercises.
Her attention was momentarily swayed as several young girls began to giggle on the sidelines, waving at one of the more handsome men on the field in a bid to attract his attention. Quite a few people had come to observe the training that morning, including the lower schools who had yet to decide which profession they wished to dedicate themselves to when their days of theory and examinations had come to an end.
Kate fought to stifle an amused laugh as the group of girls squealed in delight as the object of their attentions cast them a shy yet dazzling smile that was enough to quicken any teenager’s heart. The girls took to fanning themselves wildly with their school books and blowing kisses at the man who Kate recognised as Blake Westmoore, one of the soldiers that had returned from Nairobi only a few days ago. They had talked quite a bit at the celebratory dinner that Hestia had organised and she had to admit that Blake was as charming as he was handsome.
*At least they have good taste,* though Kate with an amused smile as Blake noticed her on the periphery and threw her an embarrassed grin before returning to his training. Blake was your classic muscle man; his body looked like it was made from polished steel and a thick crop of jet-black hair and sparkling green eyes only added to his devastating good looks.
Kate smiled reminiscently as she remembered herself at that age and how she had stood on the boundaries just like those girls were now as she watched Luc train, secretly falling in love with him every day. His handsome features dripping with sweat and his taut muscles straining beneath the tight uniform of the Warrior’s Circle - it was supposed to allow them greater freedom of movement, but either way it certainly left nothing to the imagination and to a girl of sixteen was completely irresistible.
The sound of Michael clearing his throat brought Kate back to her senses and she blushed, hoping that Dallinger didn’t possess any telepathic or empathic abilities.
“This all looks very good,” he said, clearing his throat again as he passed the list back to Kate. “You might want to consider Westmoore, he performed particularly well in his last assignment and is quite adept at ritualistic magic too, I’m sure he’d be an asset to your team.”
“I’ll certainly give him some thought…” said Kate with a contemplative smile as Blake performed a series of kicks and blocks to which his adoring fans cheered wildly. “Actually I was considering Monica Fontana and Lindsey Richards,” she added with a second glance to her list. “I’ve never worked with either of them but I’ve only heard good things about them both.”
“Before I forget,” said Michael quickly, apologising for his interruption, “the Elders and I were wondering how your work on the cure for Hyde was progressing.”
“Very well,” Kate assured him, “I actually received a phone call from my… colleagues in Los Angeles with some information about Hyde. Dr Lennon and I gathered a rite group and tested the theory yesterday on the quarantined, we’re just waiting for confirmation that it worked, but I have every confidence…”
Leaving the seclusion of Sindell Hall, a young girl slowly approached the training grounds; her hesitant gait bespoke her apprehension even if the confident turn of her head and posture said otherwise. Her willowy legs strode purposefully up the path, gravel crunching under her Hindi-style sandals while her silver dress swirled around her ankles mesmerisingly. Suddenly coming to a stop a little way behind where the gathered observers stood, she fiddled with the cord of a friendship bracelet that entwined her right wrist, her eyes fixed on the figure of the redhead woman who was talking to Elder Dallinger.
“I heard you were back,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “I guess sometimes you can rely on the rumour mill after all.”
The quiet, yet familiar voice sent shivers down Kate’s spine and she paused for a second before slowly turning around.
“Anna?” she said in a mixture of surprise and astonishment, staring at the young woman who stood before her. The girl that had once been her beloved charge and friend appeared much changed since the last time she’d seen her almost two years ago. Her shoulder length mousy brown hair had been chopped into a messy elfin style crop and bleached into a sunny blonde hue, half hidden under a bright red knitted hat. “Anna, is that really you?”
Inanna shrugged awkwardly, pulling off her hat and running a hand through her choppy blonde locks. “It’s me, Kate.”
“Oh my gods…” Kate slowly left her place by Michael’s side and took several steps towards the girl. They hadn’t parted on good terms but that didn’t stop her feeling elated and overjoyed at seeing her friend after so much time had passed. “You look so grown up!” Kate exclaimed proudly, holding back only a moment longer before she wrapped her arms around Inanna’s skinny shoulders and pulled her into an affectionate embrace.
“Oh Kate…” mumbled Inanna, dolefully pressing her cheeks against her shoulder. She had been afraid that, despite her forgiving nature, Kate might tell her to go to hell for the way she’d treated her after Lucien’s death. Inanna wrapped her arms tight around her best friend, holding her as though she would never let go. “I’m so sorry…” she sobbed, slight tears rolling down her rosy cheeks, “I’m so sorry, Kate, please can you forgive me, I hate myself for what happened…”
“Shhh, shush…” soothed Kate, pulling back a little from their embrace and drying Inanna’s tears with a freshly laundered handkerchief. “It’s forgotten, there’s nothing to be forgiven.” Kate smiled sadly looking up at the girl’s drastically changed hair and running her fingers through the short lengths with curious wonder. "I can’t believe you did this… it’s fabulous.”
Inanna laughed, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, her many bracelets all jangling together as she raised her arm. “Not so natural any more, but don’t blow my cover. I wanted to see if blondes really do have more fun after all.”
“And do they?”
“Not really, but nineteen-year-olds do,” laughed Inanna brightly.
Kate shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it’s been so long. I’ve really missed you, Anna.”
Inanna’s lower lip trembled like she was about to cry again but she fought it back. “I’ve really missed you too. I’m so sorry Kate,” she said again, shaking her head in dismay. “By Hecate! I was such a heartless cow to you, I’m so ashamed. You’d lost Lucien and were just trying to get your life together and all I could think about was myself. You were like my sister, you were my best friend and I was so horrible…”
Casting a glance back at Michael and the others, Kate returned her attention to Inanna. “Look, I’m kind of busy this afternoon but… would you like to get something to eat maybe? I’d really like to talk some more.”
“I’d love to,” smiled Inanna, her hand slipping around the other woman’s as they walked. She looked up at her friend with devoted affection. “I’m so glad you’re back, Kate.”
Friends Reunited – Part Two
Friends Reunited – Part Two
***Sunday, 27 May 2007 – 12:27pm UK Time
Communal Dining Room, The Coven of Sindell, England***
(4:27am Pacific Time – Los Angeles Time)
Despite the hour the dining room was strangely empty, but then it was tradition for many of Sindell’s members to visit family and friends on a Sunday afternoon and so perhaps it wasn’t quite so strange after all. Kate and Inanna had sat themselves at a small table, intimately secluded from the rest of the diners who milled around drinking tea and reading the morning newspapers.
They had been talking for a little while already, catching up on the events of the past two years. There was certainly much to tell. Inanna had only returned to Sindell late last night from her new position with an affiliate coven in France, much of their time had been spent talking about her life there and the new magics she was learning.
“It sounds like you’re really getting yourself together,” smiled Kate happily. Inanna had always been rather unfocused in her studies when she had been her preceptor. It had caused Kate such personal agony, as is the trial of every teacher when they see potential going to waste. “I always knew you had The Gift inside of you…”
“I know, you used to say and I never believed you…” Inanna dipped her knife into a pot of strawberry jam, fishing for the chucks of fruit that lay at the bottom before landing a large dollop onto her scone and spreading it around unevenly.
“I guess I never really felt like I wanted it enough,” she confessed, sucking a blob of jam from her thumb. “But… after you left, I felt… I don’t know, lost I guess. You’d been my mentor for such a long time, always guiding me in the right direction… When I didn’t have that I had to learn how to stand on my own two feet. It made me stop and think about what I really wanted in life.” Inanna lifted her scone to her mouth and took a large bite, the crumbly base braking up in her fingers. She laughed loudly, licking butter and jam from the palm of her hand.
“After I pulled myself together, I managed to get placed with a family in Paris for the past eighteen months, part of this new outreach programme.” Inanna laughed again, “I get to stay within a local coven and amongst other things they teach me not to be such a judgmental brat.”
Kate had to put down her cup of rose hip tea as she chuckled indulgently. “You were never that bad, Anna,” she sighed, stirring a spoonful of honey into her hot tea. “You looked up to Luc like he was your father, I know you did. And it hit you hard when he died… I should have supported you more. I know you saw my growing attachment, my… affection for Galen as a betrayal of mine and Luc’s love and to be honest…” Kate looked up into Inanna’s eyes and smiled weakly, “so did I.”
A weary sigh escaped Kate’s lips and she turned her head downwards again, focusing on the steaming liquid inside her cup. “Despite my best efforts to… control my emotions, to stop myself from fallin-…” Kate shook her head confusedly. “I could feel myself becoming attracted to Galen… I was afraid that not only would I be hurting a good man by getting involved again too soon, but I would also be dishonouring Luc and the life that we had planned to have together.“
“That’s why you came back here, wasn’t it? Out of duty? …And to see if what you felt for Mr Eldridge was real or not?”
“You can call him Galen,” smiled Kate with a slight chuckle, sipping at her tea again. “But yes, that’s part of the reason why. I did have a duty to Luc, and his family, and the coven… but I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t think about Galen while I was here, I did miss him very much.”
“I could tell you were unhappy…” said Inanna with a morose sigh, she turned away from Kate as she wet the end of her index finger and used the spittle to pick up the last few crumbs of scone from her plate. “Miserable even,” she admitted, focusing on her task with contemplative silence. “I remember seeing you teaching one of your classes and thinking you looked so distant, like you were just going through the motions.”
Inanna sighed, “I saw you grieving for Lucien, I remember seeing you crying and… Oh Hecate!” she gasped in despair, “I’m ashamed to say it… I was angry at you, I felt like you were putting on this act, pretending to mourn Lucien when all the time you were in love with another man – I know that I was wrong,” she added hastily, “but I was so twisted up inside, so angry… with everyone… I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Of course you were angry,” said Kate gently, “and of course I mourned Luc. No matter what else I was feeling at the time, I still loved him and I felt… lost… and empty without him. He was my first real love, you know? I didn’t know how to function without him in my life. I was practically his wife after all…”
“And now you’re Galen’s,” Inanna reached out her hand and gently stroked her fingers across Kate’s to let her know that she didn’t mean her words to be so harsh. “I was wrong about him,” she admitted sincerely, “I thought he was trying to take advantage of you, and… I also felt like he was trying to replace Lucien in your affections. I was so wrong… he waited for you all those months, you barely knew each other and, and he didn’t even know if he’d see you again and he still waited. Now that’s love.”
Kate smiled as she looked up at Inanna, turning her hand slightly and joining their fingers together. “Love is a strange thing,” she said quietly, “and the love that you have for someone, it never really disappears it just… changes. I still love Luc in my heart, I always will but it’s not the same love as I used to feel, it’s more respectful… chaste, but I cherish it just as much.”
“I understand… at least, I think I do,” said Inanna after a while, “I just wish I could have understood back then.”
“You were just a kid, Anna,” Kate said gently, “I don’t blame you for the way you acted. I only wish it hadn’t come between us the way it did. You’re like my little sister.”
Inanna grabbed her napkin quickly and wiped at her eyes before the tears had a chance to escape. Sniffling emotionally, Inanna squeezed her hand around Kate’s again, tightening her hold. Kate’s words and forgiveness touched her deeply and she wanted more than anything to be worthy of such kindness.
“Kate, I want you to know, I put my name down on the list for Los Angeles,” she quickly held up a hand in protest. “Before you say anything, I’ve improved in my magic, I really have and… please give me a chance. I want this more than anything, to try to make up for how I treated you AND Galen. I would be honoured if you’d let me fight by your side.”
A worried frown clouded Kate’s countenance as she observed the look of determination that was etched into the young girl’s pose. “Inanna, this is going to be dangerous, MORE dangerous than when we fought Serapis. You got hurt then… I might not be able to protect you…”
“Look at me, Kate,” said Inanna firmly, not speaking again until her friend sighed and made herself look deeply into her eyes. “I don’t expect you to protect me. I am not a child any more. I know the dangers, I know I might not come back alive… it doesn’t change the way I feel about this. I want to go with you and the others. Please Kate, give me a chance to prove myself.”
Kate still looked worried and was about to say something when a shrill yet lively voice shattered the relative silence of the room.
“It worked!”
Inanna and Kate both turned in the direction of the breathless yet triumphant voice, watching as Dr Lennon negotiated her way around the rows of tables to join them. Her face was flushed with excitement and her eyes glittered with satisfaction. She tucked her fluffy hair behind her ears almost obsessively as she approached the table.
“Kate, it worked, it worked!” she exclaimed in unbridled jubilation. “The cure… all of the witches, every one! They’re just as they were… well…” her voice quickly settled to a less rapid pace and she cleared her throat rather uncomfortably as she glanced at Inanna. “There are the usual side effects – the ones we talked about. Their powers are at a nullified level and several of them are in a depressive state, but that was to be expected considering everything that they got up to… but apart from that,” Jillian was almost bursting with pride, “the lymphatic system appears to be working as normal, the amygdala has returned to its normal size… I even tested the subjects with the olfactory trigger – no response. They’re as clean as they’ll ever be!”
“Well that’s amazing!” cried Kate in delight, standing up to hug Dr Lennon. It was everything that they had been working for and the only thing stopping her immediate return to Los Angeles. A sudden sobering, confused expression settled upon Kate’s face and she relinquished her hold on Jillian as she quickly sat back down.
“Are you okay?” asked Jillian, noticing the worry and apprehension in the woman’s expressive eyes.
“Kate?” said Inanna gently as she didn’t respond, tilting her head to one side in a concerned manner.
“That means I can go home,” Kate said finally, looking up at the two women.
Inanna and Jillian both exchanged disappointed glances. Inanna bit her lower lip furtively, she had known that Kate’s return was imminent but she had hoped for a little more time together before that date arrived. No sooner had they been reunited than they would be separated again. Unless Kate agreed to make her part of her team…
Clearing her throat again, Jillian released a slightly tremulous sigh and nodded towards the exit. “Well, we should probably notify the Elders of our success. They will be very pleased, no doubt.”
vignettes of torture part one
Rough hands gripped her hips or pinched her breasts. She moaned and cried out at the brutal caresses. Long, sharp claws dug into her skin, six to a hand. And there were so many hands, all over her body, tugging and tearing. Hot, coarse tongues abraded her flesh and sharp teeth bit down, drawing blood. Eyes clenched tightly closed, Daye could feel every touch and hear every guttural moan or hoarse chuckle. She was pinned down by the weight of one assailant while at least three others made use of her body at the same time. She knew who it was that violated her now. Was this a fitting punishment? She’d sought out this experience before. Now it was forced upon her, but did that make it different or worse? She could remember inviting those clawed hands, those sharp teeth, but now there was no invitation. How different a thing this was; this mockery of pleasure and pain. Was it just what she deserved? Was this punishment to fit the crime? Daye could feel it and hear it, but she couldn’t force herself to open her eyes and see it. Somehow by opening her eyes and seeing what they did to her now, she would make it more real. So she kept her eyes tightly closed. In the darkness behind her lids, she saw other faces. She saw Drew or Galen, or … Goddess help her … Kate. They were the victims of her heinous greed. Each watched her with angry recrimination in their eyes. Was it simply what she deserved?
Kate Has Last Minute Doubts
***Sunday, 27 May 2007 – 9:56pm UK Time
The Bear and Bacculus Tavern, Warwick, England***
(1:56pm Pacific Time – Los Angeles Time)
The Bear and Bacculus Tavern was particularly busy that night. The regulars had already laid claim to their usual seats many hours ago leaving the remaining occupancy to whatever newcomers might happen to drop by. Kate pushed open the heavy door as she led the way inside; she was met with a blast of hot air and the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke which assailed her senses, causing her to gasp momentarily until she became acclimatised to the oppressive atmosphere. It had been a particularly arduous day; after informing the Elders about the success of the Hyde cure her duties had been torn between selecting the last few members of her Craft team, conversing with William and making arrangements for their return to Los Angeles.
“So this is a traditional English tavern, uh?” asked Galen as he looked around the premises. It reminded him of every World War Two movie he’d ever seen. The roof was supported with low oak beams, the walls were decorated with a series of watercolours depicting the civil war and the furniture looked like something an aged carpenter had spent his remaining years chiselling out of the remnants of leftover timber.
Several heads turned as they entered the intimate lounge area, half a dozen pairs of bloodshot eyes focusing their blurry vision on the new arrivals before returning their attention to half-finished games of dominoes and backgammon.
Galen smiled as Kate linked her arm through his and they walked up to the bar. It had been her idea to come visit the local town before they had to leave and since she’d seemed particularly dispirited that evening he hadn’t wanted to object. Besides, he took a great deal of pleasure in seeing where Kate had grown up and the town of Warwick was nothing if not picturesque.
“Barkeep!” announced Galen cheerfully as he landed his fist on the solid oak bar in a bawdy gesture. “Give me two pints of ye olde ale, for we must quench our thirst before we journey hence forth towards yonder castle to rest our weary heads.”
The publican, a rather old, wizened looking man with a balding head and a face like aged leather merely grunted an acknowledgement, looking up at Kate for a more sensible answer.
“We’ll have two pints of Arthur Narf,” she said with a smile as the man nodded and began shuffling off down the other end of the bar in search of some clean glasses. Kate suppressed the urge to laugh but tugged on the sleeve of Galen’s shirt as she perched herself upon one of the tall barstools while they waited.
“Galen, that was funny in the first two pubs we went in, but if you keep talking in that ye olde manner you’ll be extracting your weary head from yonder brick wall before the night is out.”
Suddenly two glasses of dark looking liquor landed in front of them, the thick foam head sloshing over the brim.
Galen stared at the publican with a look of irritation, “Is this what you call service?” he asked in annoyance. “No smile? No ‘have a nice day’? No wonder the days of Empire are over!”
The man grunted again, accepting the money that Galen nevertheless handed over despite his complaints. Picking up their drinks, they sat themselves at a small table wedged between a rather raucous gang of youths and a group of elderly men who repeatedly cast a series of disapproving glances in their direction.
Galen curled up his mouth and coughed slightly as he took a sip of the strong beer, wiping the foam from his upper lip with the back of his hand. The bitter liquid took his breath away and although it had a nice malty aftertaste he would have given anything for a cold Brewski right now. “Oh, before I forget,” he said, putting his glass back down on the rickety table, “I called the airline and they said that we could pick up our tickets at the airport before we checked in.”
“That’s good,” said Kate quietly, her earlier smile slowly melting away at the mention of home. She knew it was imperative that they return as soon as possible but she hadn’t expected that time to come so quickly. There was still so much that she wanted to do, people that she wanted to see, and things had been really good between herself and Galen lately. Part of her was beginning to feel afraid that returning to LA would change all that.
Galen took another sip from his pint, growing a little more used to the strong flavour. “Did you know that the time difference means that we’ll actually land only two hours after we set out? Crazy huh?”
Kate merely nodded and took another gulp of her beer, Galen watching her with a slight worrying sense of apprehension.
“You might want to pace yourself,” he said as she put the half-empty glass down on the table. “You know what you’re like when you get drunk, and they do say that every drink in the air is equivalent to three on the ground, I mean I know we’re not IN the air but-”
“Will you just quit with all the trivia?!” snapped Kate in annoyance, looking immediately contrite as soon as the harsh words had left her mouth. “I- I’m sorry, honey,” she said quickly, reaching out her hand across the table to take Galen’s. “I’m just a bit… tired, I guess.”
“That’s not just it though, is it?” Galen asked warily, turning his hand around so that he held Kate’s fingers gently in his own. “You’ve been a little out of sorts all evening. Well, all day really, since you found out the cure had worked.” He sighed, squeezing Kate’s hand to try and gain her attention as she refused to return his gaze.
“I don’t get it,” he continued, trying to keep his voice light and non-judgmental. “I’d have thought you’d be happy; this means we can cure everyone, Tash, Nikolai, Alessa… you’ve been working on this for so long. Aren’t you happy?”
“Of course I am,” Kate said resignedly, finally making eye contact with her husband. “Of course I want everyone to be well again.” She drew her gaze away as she ran her finger around the brim of her glass thoughtfully, gathering the thin coating of foam onto her fingertip.
Galen tossed an annoyed glare over his shoulder as one of the young boys suddenly jarred their chair backwards, hitting him in the ribs. He looked back at Kate, studying her weary features. Maybe she was tired but there was something else too, something she was reluctant to talk to him about. Squeezing her hand again, he rose from his chair and led her over to the entrance, away from all the raised voices and abrasive laughter.
He opened the door that led into the foyer, the cool night air penetrating the warm, musty atmosphere of the pub. There was a small bench just inside, between the interior and exterior doors and Galen sat down, motioning for Kate to do the same.
“Something is bothering you though, isn’t it?” he asked gently, holding Kate’s hand in both of his. The sounds from within the pub were muffled but could still be heard and Galen tried his hardest to ignore them, focusing all his attention on Kate. He remembered just the other night he had laid in her arms and she had counselled him with the kind of reassurances that only a wife can provide her husband. She had soothed his worries and calmed his unease, she had known implicitly that something was troubling him and he had the same feeling now looking into Kate’s eyes.
He gently stroked the back of her hand with the side of his thumb, tracing small circles against her skin. “Last night you said you would tell me if you were ever unhappy…”
Kate looked down at Galen’s hands as they held hers with such attention, “I know…” she said slowly with a sigh. “Last night was lovely… the past few days have been so wonderful.” Kate shook her head in confusion. “It hasn’t been like that for such a long time, the closeness, the tenderness… I don’t want it to end.”
“Neither do I,” said Galen with a slight smile, feeling almost relieved. He’d thought that, from the way she had been acting that she’d had some bad news to tell him.
“I’m afraid…” Kate continued with a hesitant pause, “that things won’t be the same when we get back home. That when we’re back there, surrounded by… all those reminders of what went wrong, that it’ll change, that we’ll change.”
“It won’t, WE won’t,” Galen reassured her firmly, “Kate, we’re back together because that’s how it should be, because we belong together. It doesn’t have anything to do with where we are. My feelings for you won’t change just because we’re on the other side of the Atlantic.”
“I don’t know,” admitted Kate quietly, bowing her head slightly. “Lately I’ve been thinking that… well that it might be better for us if…” she looked up suddenly, her eyes looking confused and lost, “if we just stayed here.”
A frown slowly formed on Galen’s forehead as he studied his wife’s face to see if she was being serious or not. “Stay?” he asked incredulously, “What are you talking about? Our plane leaves in like…” he glanced at his watch, it was almost twenty past the hour, “…seven hours from now. I called Jack, he’s expecting us. We, we have responsibilities.”
“Nothing that couldn’t be re-arranged,” said Kate intently. “The cure for Hyde is complete, the team I assembled is more than qualified to enact it with out me, and as for Amanda…” she shrugged awkwardly. “Ryan and Marcus can take care of things, Koyla should have already devised a plan for how they can get in and out of there, I’m not really needed for any of it.”
“But…” Galen felt at a loss. He couldn’t believe that Kate was saying things like this, it just wasn’t like her. “You were the one who organised it all, you enlisted Marcus’ help, you arranged for Nikolai and Ryan to meet, you’re the one who managed to convince the Elders to join us, to secure the support of the Watchers’ Council. You found a cure for Hyde! Of course you’re needed, do you think any of this is going to work without you?”
Galen sighed heavily. “Your team of super witches might be good, but they don’t know our friends, they don’t care about them like we do… and I know that you would never be able to forgive yourself if something went wrong…”
“Galen… We could make a good life for ourselves here,” said Kate, almost as if she hadn’t heard any of his objections. “You could get a transfer from Los Angeles and I know the Coven would take me back if I asked them. We’re happy here, happier than we’ve been for a long time. If we go back, who’s to say it’s going to last? How long will it be before the next big bad comes along to tear our lives apart?”
“You’re the one that believes in fate,” said Galen, forcing Kate to acknowledge his words, looking deeply into her eyes. “Do you really think that being here would protect us from what is meant to be? Did it protect you and Luc?” Wincing momentarily at the hurt expression that suddenly formed on her face, Galen continued. “You ran away from here once because you thought you’d find refuge in America… and when you came back, when you faced the demons from your past you found that they weren’t all that insurmountable.”
Galen held onto Kate’s hand firmly. “I know that you’ve been through a lot in the past few months, you’ve suffered pain and betrayal from the people you care about the most. And I know that right about now the urge to just run away from all that must be overwhelming.”
“I’m not running away,” said Kate quickly, “I’m trying to stop our lives from falling apart again. Things are all so much easier here, you and I…” She looked into Galen’s eyes sadly, “If we go back we’ll have to deal with things. Things I’m not sure I can deal with at all, never mind right now.”
“You said to me not all that long ago, that sometimes what’s easy is not always what’s best. You said that you were willing to fight. You’re not telling me that woman has suddenly vanished in the past 24 hours, because I don’t believe it.” Galen relinquished his hold on Kate’s hand and cupped her face gently, tilting the angle of her morose gaze to level with his own. “I didn’t fall in love with a coward. The woman I fell in love with is strong, and brave, and she fights for what is right. You might feel afraid now, but I’m telling you that you don’t have to be. Whatever else might happen when we return to Los Angeles, my love for you won’t change and we will face the demons of our past together.”
Kate struggled to stifle an emotional sob at Galen’s reassuring words, her eyes filling up with loving tears. Galen smiled at her as he slipped his arms around her body as she trembled with an excess of feeling. He softly kissed her cold cheek once and then her lips, brushing back her hair and kissing her again.
“You know, maybe we do need a break,” he said after a while of just holding her in his secure embrace. “Perhaps once all this is over we can take a vacation or something? Just the two of us.”
“But,” said Kate as she pulled back a little, “you have work, I think they’ll expect you to go back sometime.”
“I’ll sort something out,” chuckled Galen softly. “A weekend away maybe? We could go out to Catalina… catch some sun, drink Mai Tai’s on the beach…”
Kate sighed contentedly as she buried her cheek against the thick wool of Galen’s coat, wishing that they could be there already. “That sounds lovely…”
“It will be,” said Galen with a smile, stroking his fingers through her hair. “Just you and me… we could rent one of those cosy little villas in Hamilton Cove with the ocean views and a huge bed.”
“Oh, don’t,” pleaded Kate with a blithe sigh, “when we’ll have to spend the next ten hours in that cramped air cabin.”
Galen kissed the side of Kate’s head as he held her close again. Her comment might have been light-hearted in tone but it was nevertheless an affirmation that she was settled to returning home. Glancing at his watch, he sighed wearily, drawing back from their embrace. “We should really be getting back, we still have that packing to finish and I’m sure there are some people you want to say goodbye to before we leave.”
At Kate’s nod, Galen rose to his feet. “It’s cold out,” he announced as he pulled his thick coat tighter around his chest. “Why don’t you wait here while I go and try to round up a cab?”
vignettes of torture part two
The cool water was so soothing. Daye let it trickle down her throat as she eyed the demoness attending her warily. She was saddened to see it was not the one who’d offered her extra food and warm melted chocolate on that day which now seemed so long ago. This servant was more like the others she’d seen, refusing to meet her eye and working with silent efficiency. The demoness cleaned and dressed Daye’s open wounds, clucking in disapproval at the festering ones on her hands and ankles. Whatever she used to clean out the open cuts, it burned so that tears sprang to Daye’s eyes. She almost laughed at the irony of it. What was the mild sting of an antiseptic compared to the other things she’d just endured, or for that matter, those yet to come? Daye ate and drank the little she was given and moments later was alone once again in her dirty little prison. She sighed and lay back, her eyes slipping closed. If only she could talk to this person… to anyone. The isolation was a torture unique unto itself. She found herself almost looking forward to visits from the demons or her nightly sessions with Delancre. At least there, though she hated them all, she knew she was not alone in the universe. It was strangely reassuring to just have someone look at her, with lust or fury, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was being acknowledged. Although, she would have died for one kind word or one gentle touch.
Elliot Talks to Kate
***Sunday, 27 May 2007 – 10:51pm UK Time
The Bear and Bacculus Tavern, Warwick, England***
(2:51pm Pacific Time – Los Angeles Time)
Starring – Sam Neil as Elliot Zimmerman
Elliot Zimmerman looked up at the old fashioned tavern with a peculiar sense of elation. Seer Longstein had prophesised this moment; it was the reason why he’d returned to England so abruptly, leaving his business in Los Angeles in the hands of Aimes Carmichael once more. Now that moment was about to come to pass and Elliot would finally have the answers that he had spent so long searching for.
He stepped back into the shadows as he noticed a man quickly exit the public house, his warm breath creating small white clouds of vapour in the cool night air. Stretching out his senses, Elliot could feel Catherine’s presence still inside, her essence was so rich and intense that it practically called out to him through the surrounding darkness. He could sense that she was alone at the moment, though there was no way of telling for how long. Setting a brisk pace, he whistled a merry tune as he walked towards the doors.
Kate gazed out of the tiny coloured glass windows of the vestibule as she waited for Galen to return. His comforting words had inspired a strange feeling of warmth inside that refused to acknowledge the cold that whistled into the foyer through the draughty doors. She smiled happily to herself, leaning against the oak-panelled walls and tucking her hands under her arms in an attempt to keep out the chill. Although she had grown to think of Los Angeles as her home, England still held a special place in her heart though she would be glad when she could relegate her winter clothes to the back of her wardrobe once more.
“Frosty tonight, isn’t it?” said Elliot as he pushed open the door and stepped inside, hugging himself against the harsh cold. He recognised the woman immediately and offered a slight smile as he unfastened the top buttons of his overcoat. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say there was a big freeze headed this way.”
“I think you’re right,” agreed Kate politely, sitting down on the bench again and wrapping her coat more securely around herself. She’d expected the man to just carry on into the pub and so felt a little uneasy when he sat down next to her instead.
“You don’t mind if I wait here for a moment, do you?” he asked in a friendly manner. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone but you know what it’s like, if I go in there…” he gestured towards the pub as a loud flurry of laughter suddenly erupted, “I’ll end up staying there all night.”
“I don’t mind,” said Kate with a noncommittal shrug, “I’m waiting for someone as well, he shouldn’t be too long.”
“Your husband?” Kate frowned and Elliot nodded towards her wedding ring.
“Oh… yes…” she said with a slight smile at her own suspicious nature, “Yes, my husband.”
“I don’t want to sound as though I’m prying, but you’re not local are you?” asked Elliot, trying to appear as casual as possible, “I know most people who come here and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around these parts before…”
“Well… not anymore,” said Kate with a smile. Her earlier suspicion had completely disappeared and she found herself feeling very comfortable in this man’s company, even though he was a complete stranger. At her companion’s confused glance she shrugged, “I used to be a pupil at the old boarding school.”
“Ah, Sindell’s Academy for the Gifted? You must be rather intelligent. I tried to get my son enrolled there but they wouldn’t take him.” Elliot held out his hand, “I’m George by the way, George Albritt, and you are…?”
“Catherine Eldridge,” said Kate, taking the man’s hand and shaking it firmly. She couldn’t quite place it but there was something about him that was strangely familiar, it made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck all stand on end as his flesh came into contact with her own.
Elliot smiled, observing the young woman carefully as she cast an anxious glance out of the window, no doubt watching for her husband’s return. She had changed so much in the time since he had last seen her in mid-February, after the final trial by Orin Trask. Just as his people had foreseen she had made it through the dark times, survived the pain and heartache and become a stronger and more determined person because of it. There was no doubt left in his mind, she was one of the Chosen and the time to reveal the course of her destiny was so close he could almost taste it.
Feeling the stranger’s gaze upon her, Kate turned to face him. A voice inside told her to be cautious, but George’s attention had felt far from intimidating or something to inspire fear. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking at the man with an amount of curiosity, “…but have we met before? You just seem… familiar somehow.”
“Perhaps we have,” admitted Elliot with a smile, “in a past life maybe?”
“You believe in past lives?” asked Kate with incredulity, searching the man’s face again. There was definitely something in his features, the shape of his nose and the glimmer in his eyes, she could faintly remember… like a flash of the past but it was clouded and dark, almost like there was a veil through which she had once observed the world. Kate closed her eyes momentarily as she was hit with another sensation. The man’s voice, mellow and confident, washed over her consciousness and this time she knew where she had heard it before.
“I do know you don’t I?” she asked again. “You… were in my house.”
“Just relax, my dear,” said Elliot soothingly, looking deep into her eyes. “I told you that we would meet again.”
Kate felt confusion descend upon her, dizzying and unexpected. But for some reason there was only one question in her mind. “Is it time yet?”
"No," said Elliot, shaking his head, “but soon.” He took her hand and held it firmly, feeling a slight tingling connection travel from his own flesh and into hers. “For now, you have doubts… let me take them away. The battle that lies ahead, I shall tell you what needs to be done…”
Kate nodded her head slowly, her eyes focused on his as he spoke, his soft voice so soothing that she could almost imagine herself on those beaches at Catalina that she and Galen had talked about. The hot sun beating down on her bare skin, a warm breeze tickling through her hair and the sound of the ocean breaking on the sands.
Everything was calm. Everything was still, and Kate listened to what George Albritt told her until she knew what had to be done.
****
When Galen returned some ten minutes later, Kate sat on her own in the foyer, her eyes glazed and distant as she stared blankly ahead. It took him several minutes to wake her from what could only be described as a trance like state, the sound of the taxi beeping his horn repeating in the background.
“Kate… are you okay?” he asked warily as he finally gained her attention.
Shaking her head against the foggy feeling that seemed to cloud her mind, Kate looked up at Galen with a sense of confusion. “I thought you were going to get a cab?”
“I did,” said Galen, the level of concern in his voice rising, “I’ve been gone almost fifteen minutes, the taxi’s waiting outside.” He observed Kate’s confused expression, ignoring the impatient cab driver outside who honked his horn again. “Are you sure you’re all right? You seem a bit… disorientated.”
“No, I’m… I’m okay,” insisted Kate, rubbing the side of her head. She must have been asleep or something because she couldn’t for the life of her remember what had happened between the time that Galen had left and his return now. “Um, we should go,” she said eventually, rising to her feet as the taxi driver sounded his horn for a third time. “We have that packing to finish and… I have things that I have to do.”
vignettes of torture part three
Once again suspended from the ceiling in the most horrible room she’d ever been forced to spend even a moment in, Daye forced herself to watch Delancre prepare himself without flinching. As before, in moments she was alone with the First Elder. He grinned and rubbed his palms together with glee before going to the rack on the wall and selecting his instrument. Daye struggled to turn just enough to see what he had chosen, but then quickly gave up. What did it matter anyway? Whip or flail, or electric baton, the results were pretty much all the same. Daye tensed up and looked towards the ceiling as Ambrose came closer. She flinched and bit her lip as the cold steel touched her flesh gently and then a quick flash of electric fire danced over her nerve endings. Yes, no matter what, the results were all the same.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Sunday, May 27th, 2007 - 18:25
1318 Poplar Avenue
*How’s your parents, by the way? Are they both alive this time? I hope I made some difference that benifitted… benerfi… B-E-N-A…. Oh screw it!*
Scribble, scribble…
*Helped you; you know… aside from being killed by some psychopath and his invincible demon. Now you’ll probs just get to die at the hands of some other psychopath and whatever questionable thing they practise. Assuming you’re a Shadowrunner, still…*
Tap, tap, tap… *I-*
“Reah?”
*Oh crap…* Reah silently cursed and flipped the cover of her pad closed as the familiar voice called from the landing below. “Go home, Chastity. Quin’s still not back, thus you have no reason to be here.” Standing up, she could see the girl, slightly obscured, between the small gap allowed by the stairwell.
“I can’t hang out with ya?”
“Why? I don’t see any reason.” Reah turned on her foot to step back up onto the second floor landing. “See ya, Chastity! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
“Does that mean I can do whatever I want?” The girl’s raised voice chased Reah up the corridor.
“Piss off, Chastity!” Reah called back without bothering to turn her head as she stepped through the threshold into her apartment. Locking the door behind her, Reah checked the security cameras to ensure Chastity was leaving, and it wasn’t until she had that Reah left the side of the door and settled herself down on the couch. That had been easier than she’d originally thought.
Adjusting her comfortable seat on the couch, Reah lazily held the notepad in her lap while she unconsciously smoothed out the soft leather with her free hand, stroking its smooth surface and coming across what looked like a crusty stain from last night’s dinner. Did she even have dinner last night? Maybe it was dried blood. Either way, she started scratching it up with her nail as professionally as possible without ruining the couch with a scratch mark instead of a stain… and now she was bored. Bewdy!
Rising off the couch, Reah wandered over to the closest window that looked down on Poplar Avenue and gazed distantly up the street where she stood as her eyes took on a vacant look and she watched Chastity round the corner through a security cam she’d set up a long while back - just after they’d returned from G’nartha and she went all ‘communications happy’. Turned out the thing was almost a pure waste of money. Not much ever happened on that corner, apparently, and half the time if she was on the lookout for someone, it was too late to check the damn thing by the time she remembered. It was only really ever good for passing a very slow day.
With a sigh, her eyes snapped back into focus on the tired reflection in the window and she turned about to snatch her coat up off the back of a chair. A quick check of the time told her it was still too early for vampires, but as she slipped her arms into the black leather sleeves she’d already decided that some good, old-fashioned sewer hunting would be the go instead. Now it was only a matter of choosing what transportation.
Just as she reached over to scrape up her bike keys, Reah caught sight of her letters to Dre’an and paused. What was she doing with them? Why didn’t she just tear them up after she wrote them, cause they otherwise weren’t achieving much else aside from cluttering up bench space and risking exposure? Maybe she should burn them instead… ash to ash… that symbolic shit was apparently cool and the best way to go about these sorts of things. Plus it provided the added bonus of preventing an extremely bored person from piecing them back together!
Reah unconsciously fidgeted with the ignition key, cleaning beneath her nails while she bit her lower lip and continued to stare contemplatively at the letters. Eventually she just sniffed and glided out the door without a backward glance at the folded papers, intent on raising hell beneath the streets on her bike.
vignettes of torture part four
She slept; up until now the only place she could be free. But something was wrong. The scene playing out behind her eyes was wrong, was not of her own mind. She could feel someone - a man - hovering on the outskirts of her consciousness. He controlled what she saw. Maia strung up instead of her, screaming in pain, her small body convulsing as she was struck. Sam wielding the whip as Daye felt the blows land. Drew raping her repeatedly, calling her a slut and a whore, his face a mask of rage. Ryan laughing at her from the doorway, taunting Ambrose, then Drew, then Marcus… to do more, to hurt her more. They melted, one into the other, her enemies and her allies becoming one in her mind. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t break through the enchantment to a peaceful rest.
Farewell My Lovely
***Monday, 28 May 2007 – 00:13am UK Time - The Coven of Sindell, England***
(Sunday, 27 May 2007 – 4:13pm Pacific Time – Los Angeles Time)
Kate sighed irritably as she rushed up the flight of stairs towards her room. She and Galen had been about to depart for the airport when she’d realised that she’d left her gloves upstairs. They were already running a little behind schedule thanks to her reluctance to leave without saying her goodbyes to everyone. Kate knew that they had to return home as soon as possible, but that didn’t stop her from feeling a little sad to be leaving Sindell and all her friends again. There would always be a part of her that belonged to these halls and towers and that part lamented their hasty departure even if it was necessary.
Turning down the corridor that led to their guest quarters, Kate sighed in relief that the room hadn’t been locked up yet. The door was wide open and she quickly flicked on the light switch, rolling her eyes reproachfully as she spied the pair of black leather gloves resting on the dressing table, exactly where she’d remembered leaving them.
“Damn you, girl,” she muttered to herself as she entered the chambers and stood in front of the dresser, picking up the gloves and rubbing her thumb over the soft leather before folding them up into her coat pocket. “You’d forget your head if it wasn’t already attached.”
“I guess some things never change, do they?”
Kate spun around quickly; a curious and confused frown arranging itself upon her face as she saw Byron standing in the doorway.
“I don’t want any trouble,” he said after a moment, his voice calm yet strangely hesitant. He slowly pulled the door shut behind him before turning to face Kate again. Every inch of his body was as tense as a coiled spring and he shoved his hands awkwardly into his trouser pockets to stop himself from fidgeting.
“I thought I’d missed you,” he mumbled uneasily, clearing his throat several times in an obvious attempt to compose himself. “I was in two minds whether to come or not but I thought, well, we’ve known each other for such a long time and-”
“Byron, my car’s waiting…” said Kate warily, interrupting his unfocused ramblings. She couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved; she’d never seen Byron so fraught and distressed before. He was usually so polished and flawless that it was quite a shock to see him so dishevelled. His hair was all ruffled and his clothes were disarranged and wrinkled as though he hadn’t changed them since last night. He looked positively wild.
“What I have to say won’t take long,” said Byron hastily, his eyes feverish as he took several steps towards Kate, his gaze firmly fixed upon her form as though trying to memorise every detail of her appearance. “Kate,” he said steadily, taking a deep, cleansing breath, “I… I must speak with you…”
At Byron’s slow approach, Kate instinctively took a step backwards. His behaviour was disturbing to say the least; she could see the almost heated gleam in his eyes and the heaviness of his breathing, which made his whole upper body rise and fall rapidly. “Look, if you’re here to apologise or-”
Byron frowned suddenly, his eyes narrowing in scrutiny. “Apologise? For what?”
“I know what you said to Galen,” Kate answered firmly, “The things you said about me in bed? That was a cheap shot, even for you. I don’t know what you hoped to achieve by behaving in such a manner but it’s pathetic! I’d hoped that you would have grown out of all that by now-”
“-JUST!… ….” Byron’s voice was severe, echoing loudly in the empty room. He took another deep breath in an attempt to keep his temper under control. “Okay, you’re right,” he said from between clenched teeth. “Such a comment was beneath me and I apologise. I should never have said what I did.”
“I don’t want your apology,” said Kate resolutely, though a little surprised that it had been offered in the first place. Byron wasn’t the kind of person to say he was sorry, never mind actually admitting that he was wrong about something. “Look, I… I have to go,” she said finally, her voice firm and insistent. “My car is downstairs, I don’t have time for all this.”
She walked purposefully towards the door, keeping her chin raised as she tried to ignore Byron’s intense stare. Twisting the handle, Kate only managed to pull the door open a few inches before Byron’s hand slammed it shut again. She looked up at him apprehensively as he leaned across the doorframe, blocking the exit.
“I told you I don’t have time for this,” she said quietly, looking away, her hand still firmly gripping the door handle.
“Well you’re going to have to make time,” said Byron harshly, his eyes burning with determination, “because you’re not leaving until I’ve said what I came here to say.”
“You don’t have anything to say that could interest me in the slightest,” spat Kate vehemently. “Your bullying techniques don’t work on me, Byron. They never have. Now get out of my way.” She fixed him with a wilful stare. “My husband is waiting for me.”
“THEN LET HIM WAIT!” barked Byron angrily. He quickly grabbed hold of Kate as she made another move to open the door. He slammed it shut again and thrust her back roughly against the hard oak, pinning her wrists either side of her head.
“You will listen to what I have to say,” he said firmly. “You WILL listen…” Byron’s expression suddenly softened, contorting painfully as though appalled at his own behaviour. “Look at what you do to me,” he whispered helplessly, releasing one of her wrists as he ran his fingers against the side of Kate’s face, brushing back her red curls gently.
“You make me crazy,” he mumbled, his voice empty and lost like a little boy’s. “Six years and nothing’s changed…”
“Everything has changed,” said Kate bitterly, trying to evade Byron’s touch but his hold on her made it an impossible task. His fingers gently stroked the curve of her cheek and combed through her hair, making Kate cringe inwardly at the intimacy of it all.
“Everything… except the way I feel,” sighed Byron, engrossed in the attentions that he bestowed upon his ex-lover. His tight hold on her wrist loosened slightly as a pained and morose expression filled his face. “The Gods know I’ve tried… I’ve tried to fight this, to convince myself that I hated you but it cannot be endured any longer and I refuse to suffer in silence any more.”
“Please don’t say anything,” begged Kate, closing her eyes to avoid looking at him. The expression on Byron’s face, his agitated manner, the air of unease and trepidation that surrounded him - it unsettled her more than she could justifiably explain and she felt afraid to listen to any confession that might reveal what or whom had effected such a change in him.
“But…” Byron felt at a loss; for the past 24 hours he’d done little more than obsess over what Beaufort had said to him the previous night. He’d felt a strange aching deep down inside that was painful and throbbing and as he had received word of Kate’s immediate departure it had only grown worse. The thought that he might never lay eyes upon the woman again had slowly become torturous to him, had made him consider possibilities that he had scarcely allowed himself to contemplate before and it all came down to this moment.
“Catherine, please…” he entreated softly, gazing down into her beautiful face. He felt that painful stirring again deep down inside; his words unspoken lay heavy and burdensome upon his chest making it difficult to breathe. “Look at me, Catherine,” he said gently, smiling sadly as she opened her eyes. He stared into those dark blue pools, frowning uncomfortably. “…This is very hard for me to say, I don’t even know how to begin…”
“Then don’t,” said Kate intently, holding his intense gaze. He looked so strained and restless she was beginning to feel even more nervous. “Byron, I’m leaving,” she maintained firmly. “There’s no time for you to begin anything and I… I can’t… I cannot listen to this…”
Kate pulled her wrist free from his loose grip and pushed him out of her way as she took hold of the door handle again. Byron took a step back, allowing her to open the door. He watched her with a sense of futile panic and desperation as she stepped out into the corridor.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
Kate froze where she stood. Even though she had her back to him she could feel Byron’s eyes fixed upon her as he willed her to turn around.
“Did you hear what I said?” he asked, every second of her rigid silence feeling like hours. “I said I think I’m in lo-”
“I heard you,” said Kate numbly. After a moment she slowly turned around to face him, her eyes burning into his with a mixture of anger and disbelief. She walked back into the room and closed the door again. “I can’t believe that you would sink so low as to try a stunt like that. What did you think I’d do? Throw myself into your arms and confess my secret love for you? Is there nothing you wouldn’t try just to stick the knife in a little further?”
Byron looked furious, his features growing hard and glowing with rage. “I tell you that I’m in love with you and you think it’s all some kind of trick?” He moved swiftly to where she stood and grabbed hold of Kate by the shoulders. “Do you think this is easy for me? Believe me it isn’t! I love you and it causes me no end of pain to admit to that sorry fact, but there it is. I’ve tried to deny it: all these years I’ve tried to forget about you, to purge every memory, every thought of you from my mind!” He shook her hard, increasing the strength of his grip on her shoulders. “But against my sense, against my better judgement… you, you furiously, antagonising woman! I love you, Catherine. You can damn me to Hades for it but it’s true.”
Kate winced, Byron’s thumbs digging painfully into her arms as his hold on her tightened. “You’re hurting me…”
“Is this anything compared to the pain you’ve caused me all these years?” Byron’s breath was even more ragged and uneasy as he held her, his gaze so feverish that it made the backs of his eyeballs burn. “I might have overcome this had you not returned here so…” he stared at Kate, his jaw rigid with barely restrained passions, “…more beautiful than ever… tempestuous… passionate. Damn you for what you make me feel inside. THIS is torture, THIS is pain!”
Kate wrenched herself out of Byron’s hurtful grip, staring at him as he held himself barely in check.
“I’m sorry that you feel this way,” she said after a moment, fearful of what he might try to do to her if she pushed him too far. “I really am, but I’m married, Byron… and even if I wasn’t, it wouldn’t change anything. I don’t love you. I don’t think I ever could. You’re a cruel man, you hurt people for no reason, you’re selfish and vicious and violent… Ever since I came back here you have only showed me the worst aspects of your person, your contempt, your bitterness, your arrogance. What part of that did you think would make me love you in return?”
“That was just because…” Byron could feel himself trembling inside, struggling to control the hurt and the anger that surged through his body in equal quantities. “I didn’t know how I felt. Every time you spurned me it just made me want to hurt you, but don’t you see?” Byron laughed light-headedly, “My gods! Can you believe that it was Gerald Beaufort of all people who made ME realise what I’d been doing all this time!? I tried to fool myself into believing that I hated you because I couldn’t stand the thought that you might reject me. But I don’t care any more, and I can’t wait another six years to tell you how I feel.”
“You don’t love me,” said Kate firmly, “you don’t know what love is, Byron. If you really loved me you wouldn’t want to hurt me… and you’d let me go, you’d let me be with the man that makes me happy… and that man isn’t you.”
“That common American?” spat Byron derisively. “How can you give your heart to him? What can he provide you with that I can’t? I could take care of you, provide for you. You would want for nothing with me, I would treat you like-”
“-Like your whore?” interrupted Kate resentfully. “Like you said, six years and nothing’s changed. Well that’s not the kind of life I want, hidden away like some dirty secret. And with Galen I’m not, he’s proud to have me for his wife; I’m his equal, his lover, his confidant, and his friend. When I’m with him he makes me feel safe and content, and at the same time there’s a part of me that feels so alive and excited and breathless with anticipation. When I lay in his arms at night, I can see our lives stretching out together and I can’t wait to see what our future holds. I know that whatever happens he’ll always be there for me. I know that he would die for me. That’s love… and that’s why I love him.”
“He doesn’t know you like I do though,” said Byron quietly but with absolute certainty. He moved closer again, holding both his hands on either side of Kate’s skull and slowly drawing them downwards until his fingers pressed firmly against both temples. “Does he know you in here? Does he know the way you think? Your deepest, darkest thoughts? I seem to remember many nights when you would open yourself up to me. I know you better than you know yourself.”
Kate looked up at Byron tiredly. She could feel him lightly brushing over her psychic barriers; every now and then he’d push at them a little as though testing the waters. She moved to push him away but he held her even more firmly. “Not any more,” she said breathlessly as he tried to penetrate her shields, “you don’t know me.”
“Then how about we get reacquainted?” said Byron, inhaling deeply as he pushed a little harder. There had been a time when Kate would let him have complete access to her mind, especially when they had sex. He’d developed a most delightful technique of carefully stimulating those receptors of the brain responsible for generating pleasure; a real mind fuck if ever there was one.
“You know the more you resist me,” he whispered quietly, “the more I want you…” He leaned forwards slowly, brushing his thumb softly across her forehead. “I can be gentle, Kate,” he soothed, lowering his mouth to hers, “let me show you how gentle I can be with the right woman…”
“I’m not the woman for you,” said Kate, recoiling from Byron as his lips hovered over hers. The situation was steadily getting out of control and Galen must be wondering where she’d gotten to by now. The last thing she needed to happen was for him to walk in on this…
“You don’t sound so convinced,” smiled Byron, loosening his hold on her as he let his arms snake low around Kate’s waist, maintaining their close proximity. He looked steadily into her eyes, holding up a hand and removing a small platinum ring inlaid with several blue diamonds from his little finger.
“Remember this?” he asked softly, taking Kate’s right hand firmly in his and pushing the delicate band onto her middle finger where it glittered powerfully, the blue diamonds shimmering in the moonlight, the same colour as Kate’s eyes. “You were always mine,” he said thoughtfully as he ran his fingers over the ring before looking up into Kate’s eyes again. “First your body, then your mind. All I ask is that you give me your heart.”
Kate sighed uncomfortably, looking at the ring as Byron maintained his rough hold on her hand despite her attempts to pull away. “Never,” she said resolutely. “The only thing this ring symbolises is how you tried to own me. Well, I’m not yours any more.” Kate wrenched her hand from Byron’s, pulling the ring from her finger. She held it out towards him, looking at the delicate band with a frown. “The last time I held this I threw it at you and told you to leave me alone.”
Kate flung the ring at Byron with an air of disgust; it hit him on the chest before falling to the floor, rolling around in small circles before coming to a stop just in front of his feet. “And I haven’t changed my mind,” she said with determination, “I don’t want you - or your ring. Just leave me alone. This… you and I, it isn’t going to happen. Whatever you had planned, whatever you want from me, I can’t give it to you, nor do I want to. I’m happy with Galen, I love Galen. You’re not going to change that.”
They stood in silence for a moment; Byron looked down at the ring on the floor. He’d worn it devoutly for the past six years, in sufferance and veneration and for all his honesty it lay at his feet… discarded and rejected. Kate watched him closely, regret tugging at her inside for her unnaturally cold manner. But how else to get through to him when he wouldn’t take no for an answer?
“I’m sorry, Byron,” she said gently as he crouched low to retrieve the ring, holding it between his fingers ponderously.
“You don’t get it do you?” he asked firmly but quietly, slowly looking up at her. “I won’t let you reject me again, Catherine.”
Kate frowned, feeling a cold chill travel the length of her spine. Byron’s gaze was so violent and full of malice it was like he wanted her dead. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll see,” he said calmly, rising to his feet. With every step he took towards her, Kate took an equal one backwards. Soon she was in the doorway, Byron towering over her menacingly. “I’m a man used to getting his way,” he said intently, “and I want you Kate. You know me… you know what I’m capable of. I want you to think about that when you’re tucked up in bed with that husband of yours. Remember,” he said quietly, leaning close, “I ALWAYS get what I want in the end.”
****
Kate ran the last few steps down into the courtyard, hoping that she appeared calmer than she felt. Her heart was racing from her encounter with Byron, his threat still repeating inside her head. She tried to shake her head free from those thoughts as Galen climbed out of the waiting car, rubbing his cold hands together as he opened the door for her.
“What took you so long?” he asked as he helped her inside the warm interior, slamming the door shut behind them. “I thought you’d changed your mind and decided to stay!”
“And leave you?” said Kate with a smile as she snuggled down in the back seat next to him, burying her cold cheeks into the warm fabric of his coat. “Never.”
“Glad to hear it,” Galen chuckled, wrapping his arms around his wife, shivering slightly as Kate slipped her chilled hands into his pockets. “God it’s so cold here,” he commented as they both huddled closer together to share body heat. “I’ll be glad when we get home.”
Kate smiled, taking Galen’s equally cold hands and tucking them inside her coat. “Me too.”
As the cab circled the courtyard and headed down the driveway, Kate buried her cheek deeper into the warmth of her husband. Gradually, Sindell Hall and everyone in it slowly became engulfed in darkness…
And Kate never once looked back.
vignettes of torture part five
Cool water and stale bread. Soothing salves and silence. Now, these moments when some strange demoness came to treat her injuries and give her what little sustenance she was allowed, were the only respite Daye had from the endless torment. Physical pain and degradation filled her waking moments, and horrific nightmares consumed her sleep. Someone - perhaps Robert - invaded her dreams and shaped them to his whim. There was no escape. Moment bled into moment, dreams into reality, until she could no longer be sure what was real and what was not.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Sunday, May 27th, 2007 - 20:14
“Narituk sa lurin d kan, Leont’za?”
“Lurin d k’, Ruarik?”
“Teki…”
The two demons paused, backs stiff. The scaly, horned one of the two tilted his head to the ‘low’ ceiling of the sewer tunnel.
rrrmmm-rm-rrrmmmm…
“Ruarik, teka luril d fum’kla d motre.” Crouching to the ground, the horned demon touched a hand to the rough surface, then rose to feel across the wall. “D morte d’ral?” His deep voice rumbled with uncertainty. Whatever the disturbance was, is sounded like some motor-driven vehicle of a sort; it was getting closer… And travelling on the tunnel walls?
The two demons warily held their positions, still standing in the open while they contemplated turning back, just in case whatever it was did happen to come their way. It wouldn’t be the first time. Preparation was vital, even if it seemed unnecessary. Caution never hurt.
“Y g’hatlor un d parlo. Tork ye.” The dense black-skinned demon, with a deceptively soft complexion, turned to his companion, stating rather than suggesting. Both demons were remotely of equal height, the curving horns of the other giving him a slight advantage.
“Lar, Ruarik?” the horned demon rumbled, a hint of amusement in his heavy voice.
“Nye. Kr’talin, Leont’za.”
The horned demon opened up his heavy trench coat, removing some pistol while he turned to his companion with a veiled smirk. “Ignisa d tre.” Sewer walls trembled with his light chuckle as his midnight friend nodded curtly and dropped his head, fingers to forehead.
Walking back the way they’d come, the roaring engine grew steadily louder, as anticipated, and the horned demon turned a serious glance over his shoulder in time to see what had to be the bright white glow of a headlight intensifying on an opposing wall not far behind them. He didn’t know what it was, but something told him that whatever was behind them just somehow knew they were there.
“KAH!”
The two demons burst into a mad sprint from their pursuer who’d just skidded round the corner, riding up on the wall as it tore through the passageways like hell on wheels, hidden behind its single light’s glare, gaining and gaining. Shots rang out through the cavernous system as the horned demon aimed vaguely behind himself, firing rounds that ricocheted off the walls, with the chance in mind of hopefully killing the enemy before it even got a chance to try and kill them. His midnight companion had sprung up at some stage and was now sprinting sideways along the sewer walls on all fours. His body flowed in an unnatural way that was almost hypnotic, like he had no bones, but he was suddenly as fast as any cheetah and his horned friend had to try harder to keep up.
“Nyo fe dorun?”
Midnight’s laughter at his friend’s breathless comment echoed down the passageways, and of all things he could have done he sped up, drawing another curse from the demon.
Soon nothing but the dense roar of a bike’s engine filled their senses as their pursuer closed to within twenty metres behind the pair and a familiar sound rang off the walls as the horned demon suddenly fell face first into the sewer muck, his lower leg bleeding profusely from the entry and exit point of the tearing bullet. He wasn’t given much chance to regroup, though, before the hammering bike, that didn’t even slow, smashed over his body as though it were a jump, the rider hunched in the seat as the bike soared through the enclosed air after his mate.
SMACK
Both rider and bike parted to crash unceremoniously into the sewer walls before slumping to the cold ground.
*Ooh fuck…* Reah opened her eyes, head reeling as she glanced up to see what she’d hit and noticed three menacing demons stalking towards her - two of them midnight black with one crawling back along the wall while the other stalked up normally, wearing a heavy black coat and loose black pants. The third demon, closer to Reah’s height than the other two, was a mottled dark brown and grey with tufts of fur on its chin and ears, and protruding from its forehead were two sharply pointed horns, like a billy goat’s. He too was wearing a coat, only a lot more tattered and a lot less well-kept than the others.
The two midnight demons just stared at her passively, nodding every once in a while as though agreeing about something while the goat-like demon stepped in for a closer look. Reah’s eyes never left that of Billy’s as she withdrew from his invading presence, waiting until he was finally close enough and-
SWOOSH
Reah swept Billy’s legs out from beneath him and jumped to her feet in time to grab the first midnight’s countering blow. She knocked back by smashing his nose with her palm and twisted him into a headlock that she levered herself on to back-roundhouse the other across the head before she was suddenly cracked in the spine and thrown off by Billy, she guessed, who was now snatching her back up and slamming her, head-on, into the brick wall once; twice; three times.
Recklessly dropping her limp body to the ground, Billy stepped back to his other companions who had in turn stepped up to him, the coated one straightening out his jaw.
“Leont’za!”
Rocking her head loosely up on its wavering neck, Reah forced herself to focus her lowlight vision since the light of her bike had been snuffed out, and watched in unstirring awe as the beast she’d shot earlier rose from the shadowy murk he’d fallen to and crept forward with a limp. Was it just her, or did something seem oddly familiar about him…? Then again, it could be the concussion.
“You take pleasure in hunting others not of your kind, yes?” That voice… “Perhaps you should be taught a lesson.” That deep, heavy, rumbling voice!
Reah struggled to rack her brain to remember where she knew this guy from, but it was almost as fruitless as trying to catch a cloud. “P-peo… LEON!”
“Dar?”
“Dar?”
“Dar?”
“Dar? What?”
*AH HA!* Reah had no idea how she’d managed to pull that… and just as quickly as it had come it had left. Only the name remained because she’d spoken it aloud. How did she know that name? Not that the how really mattered so much now. All that really mattered was the fact that she’d stopped her head being crushed by the scaly Hellboy demon dude… for the time being, at least. *There goes that strange sense of familiarity again…*
The demon eyed her carefully with his deep, pooling black eyes that reflected the little light there was. Suddenly, the demon’s whole face lit up - as much as stone can - as it dawned on him. “Ah! Reanna! The amusing, inebriated, lesbian!”
“What? No!” *Lesbian?* “What?” This was certainly more than she’d bargained.
The Billy demon was looking perplexed and frowning, unsure of what was being said until the coated midnight demon gave him a nudge and nodded to Reah with a smirk. “Dik’les.” Billy chuckled and Reah narrowed her eyes on the one who spoke. For some reason, however, the other midnight demon didn’t move an inch, just stared at her flatly.
“Bob’s bar, yes?” Leon rumbled. “You had the confident chatty lesbian friend, yes?”
“There’s that word again,” Reah muttered to herself incredulously as the demon continued on.
“Sorry, but you were harder to recognise without your breasts falling from their restraints.”
“Gah?”
A gentle rumble rolled in Leon’s throat that could have been something of a chuckle. “Amusing.”
Oh, this was ten times worse than having her head crushed like a juicy grape. “Could you please kill me?”
Leon bellowed. “Oh, don’t be daft, woman. Come,” he ushered, scooping her up off the ground with one of his tree-log arms. “Introductions are in order.”
Reah couldn’t help but be amazed by the demon, Leon. He was like the BFG - that’s when he wasn’t going to kill you, in which case he was rather large and intimidating. Continuing on and ignoring Reah’s weary, curious stares, Leon pointed out each of his companions in turn. Billy, who had smashed her body into the wall thrice, was apparently U’lin, the clothed midnight demon was introduced to her as Ashralin, while the other turned out to be Ruarik - who was now glaring at her.
Leon definitely wasn’t shy of talking, Reah found out, when after finishing the introductions he moved onto explain that Ruarik and Ashralin were brothers of the same race, and U’lin came from the cold Alps in Switzerland. U’lin didn’t speak English and understood very little, but Ruarik and Ashralin were suitably fluent in its usage - Ruarik a tad bit more than his brother. Also, Ruarik did wear clothing, just not at all times as he found them constraining and the materials itchy.
Reah noted Ruarik’s low growl and nearly slid out of Leon’s supportive grip who was thankfully quick to catch her and apologised for talking so when she was clearly tired and injured, possibly hungry. That stirred some confusion in Reah as she knew she’d shot Leon clean through the leg not ten minutes ago. *What a great host…*
“Come, I shall personally see to tending your wounds. Could you please forgive me for firing at you earlier?”
Reah shook her head in bewilderment. “Dude, I shot you in your leg!”
Leon nodded his head in atonement. “But I had been the aggravator. You can forgive me, yes?” At Reah’s incredulous nod, he smiled and reached out to touch a point on the stone wall when Ruarik suddenly cried out.
“U m’hatlor rhula d parlo? E ru!”
“Yes,” Leon’s expression lost its smile as he flatly addressed Ruarik. “I would. And you would do better to speak English in front of our friend, yes?” When he was sure Ruarik wasn’t about to cause any more fuss, Leon turned back to the wall and pushed in a particular stone. Reah’s eyes couldn’t help but risk a look back at Ruarik who, surprise, surprise, was back to glaring at her - only now with a fiery passion.
“Ruarik, you would do well to bring in Reanna’s bike for me, yes?”
Ruarik’s eyes snapped to Leon’s and he stiffened his back. “Um juahla di s’drult,” Ruarik spat and leapt back onto the wall, vanishing off into the sewers.
Leon’s black eyes narrowed after him before turning back to enter the exposed passageway to their dwelling, muttering something under his breath in another language Reah couldn’t understand as he continued supporting her inside. “You’ll have to forgive him. He has greatly displeased me.”
Ruarik’s brother, Ashralin stepped up and pat a hand on Reah’s shoulder in passing. “He be back. Worry not.”
Reah exchanged wary glances between Leon, Ashralin, and back over her shoulder to where Ruarik had disappeared. Though as much as the situation had bothered her, it wasn’t long before her concerns were forgotten as she ventured down toward what lay ahead.
vignettes of torture part six
Terrible nightmares. Screaming recriminations. “Whore!” “Worthless bitch!” “I hate you!”
Drew cradling Chinaka in his arms, her mouth turned up in a cruel smile. She stared at Daye as she rubbed her naked body against him. Drew laughed at Chinaka’s whipered words. “Worthless waste of my time,” he started scornfully at Daye. “I hope he kills you slowly.”
Tears course down wan cheeks. Tangles of hair frame eyes closed in sleep as she moans fitfully and turns on the filthy mattress.
Kate stands above her, a maelstrom of furious power surrounding her in a radius of light. Her eyes flash pure righteous anger. She speaks harsh Latin syllables and pain racks Daye’s body once again. “Die, you heartless bitch! Go to hell and burn, you selfish, weak slut!”
Sam holds Maia aloft in his arms. His eyes are glazed. Delancre stands before him, reaching out clawlike hands to take possession of the girl. Maia’s face is full of grief and loss. When Delancre touches her, the girl screams in agony as if she is burning. Delancre laughs and clutches her close to his body.
Daye sits up in the dimly lit cell and screams. She can’t stop screaming, even when the scared and angry guards come.
Premonitions: Part One
***Monday, 28 May 2007 – 8:33am - Los Angeles***
“Why does this city always seem so dark?” asked Kate as she gazed out of the taxi window. Their flight had landed just over an hour ago and they were now on the final leg of their journey down Glendale Avenue towards Alhambra and home.
Galen smiled, scooting across the seat as Kate continued to stare out of the window sleepily. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders while his other hand lazily stroked her knee. The warm morning sun was already climbing up into the sky, casting a golden orange glow over the horizon.
“Darkness is just an illusion,” he said quietly before he leaned low and began to gently kiss the exposed flesh of Kate’s shoulder, brushing back her hair to allow him greater access.
Kate sighed in appreciation at her husband’s tender attentions though her gaze was still firmly focused on the view across the city. Something was out there, something ancient and evil. She could feel it growing in ferocity beneath the crowded streets, getting ready to erupt.
Meanwhile Galen’s kisses became more impassioned and he slipped his hand beneath her top, gently squeezing at a handful of warm breast. Kate moaned softly, momentarily drawn away from the demands of the outside world as she revelled in her husband’s caresses. As the taxi sped onwards down the highway the skies grew heavy and grey, turning day into night. Clouds gathered together, churning and swirling into a blackened maelstrom of malevolence. Kate was oblivious to it all as she let her hands cup either side of Galen’s face, bringing him closer as she returned his eager kisses.
Outside, screams of agony joined the lustful moans in the taxi. Balls of fire rained down from the sky, crashing to earth and obliterating everything in its path. Across the city, barely visible on the horizon, a bright, burning light grew in intensity and the sound of screaming became louder.
The driver swung over his seat, his arm draped over the back as he leered at the two lovers who were still completely unaware of the ensuing apocalypse. “If you’re not doing your job,” he grunted, “we’re all going to die.”
Looking up at the man, Kate screamed as she saw bright streaks of crimson bleeding from his eyes like tears, rolling down his cheeks.
“What’s wrong, honey?” asked Galen as he pulled back, staring at his wife in confusion.
Kate screamed again in terror; Galen’s entire face was covered in burns, his flesh blistered and raw. Kate didn’t think she would ever stop screaming.
“Kate… KATE… wake up!”
Kate opened her eyes in confusion as she heard Galen’s voice penetrate her subconscious. She looked around, still half asleep.
“Kate…” said Galen’s voice, soft and gentle, chuckling a little at her drowsy and disorientated expression, “Kate, we’re home.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
May 27th - 11:20 PM
Cole’s eyes began to slowly droop and the sound of the television became indistinguishable. It was getting late; since he had nothing better to do, the boy welcomed the sleep that was overtaking his sense.
“COLE! COLE!”
“Whoah…uhh…huh?” the boy practically fell from the couch as Darian’s loud voice came rumbling from the hall.
“Open the door!”
Rising groggily to his feet, the young teen trudged over to the entrance. *What the hell is going on?* he wondered through a humungous yawn. “What’s all the racket ab-?” Cole’s jaw practically dropped to the floor as he opened the door to see Darian holding the unconscious form of…
“Kyle?!”
“Out of the way, Cole,” Darian huffed, trying to get past the shock-ridden kid so he could put Kyle down gently on the couch.
“Kyle?!” Cole said again, moving over to the demon’s side.
Darian frowned, turning his attention briefly to the young mage. “You know him?”
It took a moment for Cole to process the question. “Yeah, he’s a ‘friend’ I guess.” Actually, since their last encounter, he wasn’t really sure any more. Kyle had made it pretty clear he never wanted to see him again.
“Well whatever he is, I think he’s in trouble. We had a scuffle at the park, and I think I did a bit of a number on him,” Darian replied worriedly. “But I can’t very well bring a Kaoshian demon to the hospital,” he finished, uncertain of what exactly to do with the teen.
“Look, put him in my bed and I’ll see if I do a bit of healing.”
As Darian brought Kyle’s limp form to the other room, Cole couldn’t help but feel a twinge of fear creep into his soul. He had hardly done any magic since his big ordeal, and every time he did it was so hard trying to resist the urge to channel dark powers. *But Kyle needs my help,* he steadied himself, as he followed Darian into his room.
Kyle was lost in a sea of darkness. He could see nothing but darkness around him, that rolled into him through his mouth, his nose, his very pores; all-consuming and choking him.
Then it began to recede, and he slowly felt himself fall back into the land of the conscious.
There was pain. He felt that first. His entire body was on fire with it. But even as he thought of the pain he felt it begin to diminish, to fade.
Kyle’s eyes slowly opened, and through blurred vision he could make out two figures standing above him. His sight slowly swam into focus until he could see clearly who they were. These were people he knew, but Kyle didn’t know where from. He squinted, as if to make sure what he was seeing was real, or as though confused and bewildered.
“Cole…? Darian…? What…?” he stuttered, managing to pick their names out of the air.
Then everything came flooding back and Kyle was filled with loss, pain, rage and sorrow all at the same time.
In a flash of movement that sent Darian and Cole staggering backwards in shock, Kyle leapt up from the bed and backed up against a corner, seething like an animal. His eyes darted from side to side, flickering from the fae to the kid and back again, and his breathing rate quickened.
“Kyle, calm down,” Cole said gently, taking a slow step forward. The boy’s lips tightened with concern as he stared at his friend’s jittery posture. They, the Watchers, had done this to him, and had he not been so concerned with his own goals, signs of Kyle’s conditioning could have been spotted earlier. “I’m sorry Kyle, I should have helped you before it got this far. But you’re safe now, ok? So just relax.”
Darian stayed back, taking in the situation. He was still unclear exactly how well Cole and this kid knew each other, but his gut told him that the teen was probably more capable of calming down the Kaoshian than he was.
Kyle’s eyes flashed from Darian to Cole, unfocusing then re-focusing again. “What do you want with me?” he snarled through clenched teeth. The events of the past few months were present in his mind, but the memories were jittery, disorganised, fragmented and confusing. Cole had betrayed him back in Chicago but then became his friend, or was it the other way round? Had it even happened in Chicago, or was it here in LA? Had Cole even betrayed him at all? He wasn’t sure, he just wasn’t sure…
“We just want to make sure you’re okay, Kyle.” Cole moved closer, each step clear and obvious with intent; he didn’t want the demon to think he was advancing to do any form of attack.
“You’re safe now,” he reiterated, just before having to jerk backwards to avoid the older teen’s fist which had flinched outwards in a subconscious attempt to defend himself. The wild punch did nothing to deter Cole from his goal. A second later, he advanced closer, back again into arm’s reach of his friend.
Whap
Kyle’s fist slammed painfully into Cole’s jaw, causing him to stagger backwards.
“It’s okay,” Cole whispered, turning back to Darian to make sure he didn’t get involved. His friend’s mental well-being was dangling from a very breakable thread, and if this wasn’t handled carefully…
*Mental note: watch out for him punching,* Cole thought as he rubbed his sore chin, and again began to move closer to Kyle. The older boy threw a few more punches, but they were reckless and Cole had managed to avoid the better part of them and was now standing right in front of Kyle.
Gently outstretching his hand, he rested it reassuringly on his friend’s trembling shoulder. “It’s over Kyle, things are okay now.”
*Things are okay now.* The words repeated in Kyle’s head. How long had it been since things were okay? He couldn’t remember.
Kyle visibly calmed and dropped his arms from a fighting stance. “W-Where am I?”
“You’re in my apartment, well mine and Darian’s. You went after Darian a few hours ago, but by the end of the fight you collapsed. He didn’t know what to do, so he brought you back here. You were pretty banged up, but I managed to heal a lot of the physical damage.” Cole looked into his friend’s eyes, and grimaced; they were filled with fear. During their time together, Cole had never known the boy to be afraid of anything, and seeing him like this, so vulnerable; it was weird.
Events slowly came together in Kyle’s head. He remembered fighting Darian now, in fact he remembered everything. Ashamed of it all, Kyle closed his eyes and looked away; tears threatening to cascade.
No, no he would not cry. He would not. Kyle clenched his teeth, screwed up his eyes and tightened his fists until the feeling passed.
“I… uhh, thanks,” Kyle muttered in a small voice when he turned back to Cole. “I, umm…”
Cole could read in his eyes that Kyle was searching for the words, but either didn’t know them or couldn’t bring himself to say them. Instead, he smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder. “No problem.” Kyle sagged with relief.
“You want a glass of water?” Darian asked, breaking the silence that was growing after Cole’s words.
Kyle turned away from Cole to face him; once more his eyes filled with a confusing array of emotions. He opened his mouth to say something, but even before he began he was struggling, and Darian held up his hand to prevent him from going any further. “Hey, don’t worry about it right now. I understand what you went through, and I don’t blame you for it.” The fae nodded and stepped out.
Once more relief washed over Kyle, and he turned back to Cole. “Uh, I’m really tired. I think I wanna get some more sleep.”
Cole nodded enthusiastically. “Sure, sure. Here, take my bed.”
The Kaoshian demon nodded his thanks, unable to speak the words, and climbed in. He got himself comfortable and closed his eyes, when something popped into his head just as Cole was leaving. Before the boy could exit the room, Kyle sat up. “Hey, Cole. Aren’t you all, like, good guys or something?”
The younger boy turned back around, somewhat surprised. “Well, yeah, despite what the virus did to the whole lot of us, I guess you could say that,” he replied, unsure of what Kyle’s meaning was.
“Well if you guys are good, then you must be planning something against Delancre right?” Kyle continued.
Cole couldn’t help but smile as his realized the purpose of his friend’s question. *Even as banged up as he is, he’s still looking for trouble.*
“Yeah Kyle, don’t worry, when the time comes, you’ll have the chance to get even with the Watcher. But for now,” Cole said, moving to turn off the light switch, “I think you just need a good night’s sleep.”
Pre-rescue Meeting
***Monday, 28th May 2007 - 6:57pm – Kate and Galen’s House***
Ten hours’ sleep, a hot shower and a decent meal had made a new woman out of Kate as she lay out a tray for tea in the living room in preparation for her guests. She had called both Nikolai and Darian that morning after she and Galen had arrived home, asking them to meet so that they could discuss things. She was particularly anxious to find out what had been happening in Los Angeles in her absence and at the same time eager to relay her own news regarding Hyde and the support she had gathered from both the Watchers’ Council and Sindell.
“Where’s Ryan?” she asked Galen as he entered the room. She hadn’t seen the demon much since coming home; according to Jack he preferred to keep out of sight, hiding himself away in the kitchen or his room whenever anyone called around.
The sound of the doorbell ringing cut Galen’s answer short as he motioned towards the front door and headed off in that direction leaving Kate to finish her preparations.
“Galen, a pleasure to see you again,” Nikolai said, smiling broadly as the door opened wide to let him in. Kate had left a message on his answer machine early that morning asking him to call round later that evening. Nikolai had been in two minds whether to phone back or not. On the one hand he had many questions to ask, especially about Hyde, but on the other hand he was reluctant to talk about such things on an open line. In the end he had decided to curb his curiosity and just wait until they all met up.
Shaking hands with Galen, he used his free one to remove his shades and put them in the inner pocket of his jacket. “So, I take it you and Kate had a rather productive trip?” he asked lightly, noticing a flicker of warmth light up Galen’s features at his question.
“You could say that,” replied Galen as he led the Russian towards the living room, “but I’ll let Kate explain everything. I know she’s been anxious to see you.”
Nik smiled at the mention of Kate’s name. The circumstances of her departure hadn’t been the best and he’d heard very little from either her or Galen while they’d been away. The words of their last conversation had been in his mind constantly, her warnings about Delancre and how he might be watching them now; he was immensely relieved that she had made it home safely.
“Katya!” he exclaimed joyfully at seeing his friend looking so well. “Welcome back. Did you have a good time in England?”
Kate smiled as she rose from the sofa to greet her friend. Nikolai embraced her warmly, kissing her on both cheeks before sitting down.
“It was… very successful,” said Kate with a slight blush as she took her seat again and poured out Nikolai a cup of tea, handing it to him. “I’ll wait until Darian and Cole arrive before I go into specifics, no point in repeating myself and all…” Kate sipped her tea and sighed in relaxation. It felt so good to be home again despite the dark clouds that hovered on the horizon. Still, her trip to England HAD been successful and she couldn’t wait to tell her friends just how much.
“How have things been here?” asked Galen as he sank down onto the sofa next to Kate and took her hand in his own. His eyes lingered fondly on his wife for a second or two before he returned his attention to the Russian.
Nikolai noticed the coy blush in Kate’s cheeks, not to mention the loving attention that Galen bestowed upon his wife with every glance. The feelings that he sensed from them were so strong that he couldn’t help but feel an amount of both curiosity and embarrassment. It was obvious that something had happened to bring them closer again and he felt glad that the two of them had managed to work things out while away, making the most of the situation.
At Kate’s question he pushed aside his own interest and considered where best to begin. He remembered his last meeting with Alessa and the things she had told him; he knew he had to pass on that news to Kate but he wasn’t exactly sure how to go about it.
“Not exactly the best,” he admitted eventually. “Alessa has been with Comrade Delancre for a while now but is keeping the facade up. She came to me…” he sighed, unsure of how to continue. “Amanda – Daye, she’s in trouble. When Alessa came to see me, she told me that she was not sure how much longer Daye could hold out against Delancre. I’m afraid we may be too late.”
The conversation was suddenly interrupted by Jack’s gruff voice coming from the entrance.
“…Yeah, they’re in the living room.”
A moment later, Darian appeared in the threshold to the room, his broad frame practically obscuring the smaller boy behind him. “Hey guys, I’m glad you made it back all right, and just in the nick of time,” he added, before stepping forwards and exchanging hand shakes with Nik and Galen.
Cole followed in awkwardly, trying to take up as little room as possible. It was strange coming back here after everything that happened, and it didn’t help that Jack and Galen were both casting him glares that could freeze fire.
“Hi,” he finally said, barely above a whisper, as he shuffled his way over to Darian.
“Cole… Darian…” said Kate as the two walked inside and seated themselves around the coffee table. She could sense Cole’s unease and nudged Galen gently in the ribs as she noticed the cool expression that had settled in his features as the boy entered the room.
Turning to her father Kate made a slight nod of her head to gain his attention. “Could you get Ryan? He needs to be here for this too.”
Nikolai raised an eyebrow at the exchange of unease, feeling suddenly like he had been left out of the loop on something. There would, without a doubt, be a great many problems between the circle of friends which had to be resolved once this was over. Probably more than any of them even realised. "I, uh, think I'll go with him," he said, still not feeling all that comfortable with the sudden changes of emotion.
The fae watched for a moment as the two men left the room, then turned his attention back to Kate. “Things are pretty bad here, Kate. Like I told you over the phone, Tash has definitely gone over to the dark side so to speak, and it’s only a matter of time before this whole Watcher affair blows up into a fully-fledged war. And the worst part is we can’t tell whose side everyone is on. People are good one minute, bad the next, almost makes me wish we were dealing with the Brotherhood again,” he joked uneasily, trying to lighten to mood slightly.
An unsettled laughter rippled through the small group at Darian’s joke, ending almost too abruptly.
“Well at least there is good news on one score,” said Kate, exchanging glances with Galen. “The information you gave me about the virus…” she smiled, “The cure for Hyde works, it’s been tested and everything. All we need to do is make sure that we gather everyone who’s infected in one place. The effects are almost instantaneous, though it takes a few days for the virus to actually be purged from the system.”
“That’s great!” the fae cheered, as a large smile erupted on his face.
“Except, now you have to get all the infected people to co-operate, so Kate can cure them,” Cole cut in quietly. “Something tells me that’s going to be easier said than done.”
“Good point,” Darian sighed. “But, together, we’ll figure something out,” he said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. “So, once we do get all the people in one place, how exactly does the cure work?”
“It’s something like a magical tapeworm,” said Kate, opening a black leather-bound journal and indicating towards several different ritualistic symbols that she had drawn to represent the progress of the spell.
“Mana is drained out of the host through Hyde and into a holding vessel via a sort of one-way valve. Mana can be drawn out constantly but can’t travel back. The virus should become dormant straight away and after a few days without mana it just starves to death. Of course that means the host is left rather… helpless, without their ‘powers’ but as Hyde is purged, the link is severed and the mana returns back to the host.”
Noticing Darian’s and Cole’s slightly confused glances, Kate smiled. “Don’t worry, it sounds more complicated than it actually is, and I’ll have lots of help. All I need is a bio-organic holding vessel, or maybe two considering how much mana there is to be drained.”
"Bio-organic holding vessel? When did I walk onto the set of Star Trek?" Nikolai couldn't resist joking as he and Jack returned with Ryan in tow. Coming in at the end of the conversation, all he got was the stuff about it sounding complicated.
"Er, sorry," he apologised at the awkwardness of the situation. "Just what exactly is this vessel supposed to hold?"
“The infected people’s mana,” Cole said aloud, as his acute mind began to work out the steps of the ritual. “But this ‘bio-organic host’, it means someone is going to be pumped full of magical energy? That’s really …dangerous.” Those who knew the story could only guess that Cole was speaking from first-hand experience. “So who exactly is going to be the vessel?”
“Well…” said Kate, “that’s the part I haven’t quite worked out yet. There were a number of infected witches at Sindell and when we tried out the cure there we used what is called a ‘Streamer’ - a mage who is experienced in channelling large amounts of magical energy for mystic workings. Actually we used several to disperse the sheer volume of mana. Unfortunately, it kind of depleted our resources. The vessel has to be physically and spiritually strong, able to control large quantities of raw power. There are a few associates of the coven that I’ve been put in touch with, but I have no idea if they will be suitable.”
Kate shook her head; “The bottom line is, we can’t perform the ritual without a vessel.”
“What about me?” All the eyes in the room moved onto Darian in surprise. “Well think of it: I’m physically stronger than just about any of the White Hats, and my body is used to channelling foreign magic. Faeries are in themselves magical creatures, so I’m probably the most likely to come away from something like that unharmed.”
Nikolai nodded and smiled, pretending he had any idea at all as to what was possible and what wasn't where magic was concerned. For all he knew, someone had the power to fashion a vessel out of thin air. Still... "We probably need to have another person as well, to be safe," he suggested. "I don't know how many of us will need to be cured, but it would probably be bad if you got overloaded with magic and exploded. That can happen, can't it?"
“No…” Kate almost laughed, “the valve would just become… well, backed up I suppose would be a fair way to describe it. But it would just mean that the spell wouldn’t work. Though a secondary vessel would be safer.” Kate fixed her attention on Darian, looking both serious and concerned.
“Are you sure that you’re up to this after-” her eyes wandered to where Cole sat and she grimaced at the uncomfortable expression on the boy’s face as he realised what she was referring to: after he had almost drained the life out of Darian.
“Well, someone has got to,” Darian said matter-of-factly. “However, before we have to worry about that, we have to find a way to rescue those who are being kept up at Delancre’s stronghold.”
"Ryan and I have been talking,” said Nikolai, “and we've come up with a plan to rescue Amanda… Well... part of a plan. We have ways in and out, and we might be able to avoid the guards. It's just whatever magical defences that Delancre has right now that we don't have counters to."
Ryan watched the small gathering as they discussed their plans, feeling that for the first time things might eventually get underway. It had taken all of his self-control and discipline over the past few days not to make an attempt to rescue Daye sooner. He had been immensely gratified to see Kate and her husband return that morning: it meant that soon, very soon they could make their move.
As Nikolai looked towards him for confirmation he merely nodded in agreement, keeping a safe distance from the visitors at all times.
“The wards are a problem,” admitted Kate, “but Sindell granted me a small retinue that should arrive in LA by tomorrow morning. They’ll be able to lower the magical restrictions of the mansion without too many problems.” Kate turned to Cole, “They just need someone who is familiar with those magics in order to properly diffuse them.”
Cole looked up in surprise; his eyes wide in fear and glancing around the group as all attention turned to him. “What? Me? Kate, I c-can’t… you know I can’t, n-not after last time…”
“Cole,” said Kate softly, “you told me that when you attacked the mansion you were able to permeate those wards. Each spell resonates with its own individual vibrations. If you can remember how, what those magics felt like, all you have to do is concentrate on that and the mages will do the rest. They can focus their spell through you.”
Cole flushed as all the eyes in the room focused on him. Helping the Sindell Witches was a great responsibility, something that, if not done properly, could endanger the lives of all the White Hats involved in the rescue. *What if I screw up?* The thought was frightening indeed.
Seeing the uncertainty in the boy’s eyes, Darian turned to face Cole. “Think you’re up for it?”
The teen did not answer immediately, and instead looked briefly around. Those left in the room seemed to cling to the possibility that he could help, their gazes silently pleading. “I, I guess. Last time I did it, I was kinda out of it… but I think I could manage.”
Kate nodded appreciatively. She could tell Cole was reluctant about playing such an integral part in their plans and that was to be expected considering all the teen had been through. “I’ll need to introduce you to who you’ll be working with, but we can arrange that tomorrow afternoon.” Kate glanced at the clock on the mantel; she knew that most of the mages from Sindell should have arrived in LA by now. Their numbers had been dispersed amongst various outbound flights so as not to arouse too much suspicion and the last of the team would touch down in the early hours of the following morning.
“You shouldn’t be afraid of magic, Cole, or your powers. Your abilities are a part of who you are. Embrace them, trust in them, in yourself,” she smiled at Darian, “like we do. You CAN do this.”
Nikolai cleared his throat some, distracting the pair away from Cole’s doubts. If he was already worried about the plan, he would no doubt be worried at what Nikolai had to say next. “There’s something else we need to consider,” Nikolai said, sitting down across from them.
“Tash. I initially didn’t worry about her too much when we were first planning the rescue, since we didn’t have a cure to this virus. My sources tell me she spends most of her time at the compound,” Nikolai added. Thankfully Alessa could at least keep him informed on that much, even if not all of her movements. “We’re going to need to rescue her at the same time. Once we make an infiltration into Delancre’s headquarters, he’s going to figure out very quickly exactly how we got in and be on the lookout for us. This could be our only chance to save Tash.”
Nikolai couldn't help but be slightly amused at all of this, shaking his head. Of all the operations he had ever been part of, he knew that this, he suspected, would be the one that he could look back on with the most pride.
Galen frowned; he’d been listening to the proceedings with a mixture of both interest and apprehension. His years in Majestic had taught him a thing or two about undercover ops as well as infiltration. Nikolai’s plan appeared sound; they needed to rescue Tash that was for sure, but it added another layer of danger to this whole affair.
“Wouldn’t that involve a direct confrontation?” he asked warily, “I thought the idea was to get in and find Daye and get back out as quickly as possible?”
“It was,” said Nikolai, “but if we don’t rescue Tash now the only other options will be to try a second raid which will be even more risky, or ambushing her on patrol.” He sighed; now was as good a time as any to go into some of the details of the plan.
“Initially we planned on two teams. There are a series of tunnels that were used during prohibition to bring in illegal booze that we should be able to use to enter and find Amanda. The only other problem is a way to distract them – Darian, we were hoping that you could help with that actually, since you have access to the complex.”
“I’m up for it, but something tells me Tash won’t come along quietly,” Darian replied, thinking back to their last confrontation. “So I guess it’s going to be one of those ‘bring her back by all means necessary’ deals.”
Nikolai nodded sombrely. No, Tash probably wouldn't come along peacefully. That was part of the problem. "Which means you will probably need a quick escape. I can park in my car down the street and wait for you - it's got the armour of a tank."
Reluctantly, Ryan stepped forward to join the group; stooping low to pick up the blueprints of the Watchers’ Council mansion that the Russian had managed to get a hold of. He crouched next to the coffee table and cups and plates were swept out of the way as Ryan rolled the charts out across the flat surface.
“A primary attack on the surface should provide us with enough of a distraction to allow us to find Daye and get her out of there before the alarms are raised. Delancre’s troops will be focused on Darian’s team when we make our strike.” He traced his finger across the edge of the paper, indicating towards the faint line of a tunnel. “We’ll come up around the cliff face by boat and gain access via this underground entrance.”
Kate nodded solemnly, listening to Ryan as he went through some of the finer details of the plan. When all was said an atmosphere of tense apprehension had filled the living room. Kate glanced around at the group of serious faces.
“Then everything is set,” she said firmly. “I’ll contact the others and fill them in on what we’ve discussed.” Kate fixed the group with a steady gaze: “And tomorrow we do this.”
Daye is finally broken
*** Monday, May 28, 2007, 11:46 pm ***
*** A very special cell beneath the Watchers’ Council mansion in Los Angeles ***
Delancre stood in the center of the torture chamber shaking with fury. Events over the last few days had begun to spiral out of his control, starting with the damned Kaoshian demon and continuing on with Amanda’s continued resistance to his methods. As time grew short, he’d been forced to acknowledge that he had been all too right before. Nothing he could do to Amanda’s body or mind would break her spirit. He would never get her to willingly tell him what he wanted to know, and he didn’t have enough time to continue with these very enjoyable late night sessions. He was exhausted from lack of sleep, and he simply couldn’t afford to spend another wasted night with Amanda, no matter how pleasurable it might be for him personally. So, Delancre had come to a decision.
This time, he wasn’t alone in this room. Four of his most powerful mages stood in the cell, one in each of the four corners. They stood facing the center where Delancre himself stood before a throne carved of heavy wood. There were iron shackles near the base of the chair and on each of the two arm rests. On a small table beside the chair sat a bowl, a handful of sharp-looking instruments, some candles and various herbs.
Delancre turned towards the door when he heard the heavy tread of the demons coming through. Two of the Trenoil’ka dragged Amanda between them. She was limp between the two heavily muscled demons. Delancre took great satisfaction in the fact that she looked half dead. He knew he couldn’t break her, but he had managed to hurt her so very badly that she now flinched at the sound of his voice. He had finally taught her to fear him. Too bad those lessons were now at an end.
“Put her in the chair and secure her,” Delancre ordered the demons. Amanda’s head came up at his words and he could see the terror in her eyes. She was expecting some new torment or humiliation. She would not be disappointed, but this would be the last time they danced this exquisite dance.
Once Amanda was secured, Delancre dismissed the two Trenoil’ka. He moved towards where she sat watching him warily. “Dear Amanda, do you have any idea how much I’ve enjoyed our time together?” he asked her, reaching out a gentle hand to stroke her bruised cheek. “I never dreamed you would prove such a delightful challenge. I can only imagine the depths we could have explored together. If only there were time…”
Daye was confused. She could just make out the other men standing in the shadowed corners of the room. She could see that Delancre was dressed in some sort of dark, heavy robes. She was seated in a hard wooden chair and though her hands and feet were shackled, she at least would not have to endure the agony of hanging before him for hours. Although, probably, whatever he had planned would be worse on some level.
“But we don’t have any more time,” Delancre continued, his voice nearly a purr. “We’ve run out of time to play games. So, before I begin, I will ask you, as I’ve asked you each and every night before: tell me who helped you. Just give me one name, one little name to go on, and this can all be over.”
“I’m not going to tell you anything,” Daye whispered hoarsely. She usually didn’t respond to this question, but just now she felt she had to say something. “I’m never going to give you what you want, Ambrose. You should just kill me now.”
“Amanda, my love, I’m not going to kill you,” Delancre replied sadly. “I know that’s what you’re hoping for, but it’s just not going to happen.”
Delancre sighed. “I just don’t know why you continue to protect them. They obviously don’t care about you, Amanda. If they did, wouldn’t they have come to save you by now? Who are you protecting? I’ll get Maia soon enough, and whoever helped you is never going to be safe from my wrath. Why do this to yourself?”
Daye heard his words. She couldn’t argue with his logic, either. Her friends had obviously given up on her. No one was going to come to her rescue. She wasn’t foolish enough to hold out that hope any longer. It had been so long since the demoness had offered her chocolate and kindness and a promise to get her help that Daye knew without a doubt no help was ever coming. Still, she wasn’t holding out for rescue any more, and she still would never tell Delancre what he wanted to know.
“Because I have to,” Daye said. “I can’t betray my friends, not now, not any more, not when I know better. I care about them. Besides, they haven’t really abandoned me. They keep me strong, knowing they are all out there somewhere, safe from you and your evil. You can’t win, Ambrose. You’re not nearly strong enough to overcome us all.”
Delancre’s lipped curled up in a sneer. “And you are too confident in your pitiful little army of do-gooders. I have already beaten you all. There is no way, even if your friends all manage to overcome Hyde, that any of you will be a match for me. My time is at hand. Yours is finished.”
Daye shook her head. There was no point in continuing this argument. Delancre was arrogant and mad. Nothing she said now would ever make a bit of difference to him. “Whatever you’re going to do now, could you just get on with it, please?”
Delancre laughed. “Are you in such a hurry? Very well.”
Delancre raised a hand in the air, a practiced signal to the mages in the room. They began to softly chant in Latin. Their voices were low and harmonious. Daye stiffened at once when she heard them.
*Ritual magic,* she thought. *Goddess, what has he got planned?*
Delancre moved to the small table and picked up a small knife and the bowl. He stepped up close to Amanda and held the bowl aloft.
“Ogma, I invoke thee
Call down thy power
Bind one to the other
Our two minds
Unlock the dark corners
Bring all knowledge to light.
Ogma, Lord of Sorcery
Grant me the key
Hidden knowledge be unveiled
Mind to Mind
Magic to Magic
What is hers becomes mine.”
Daye felt the sharp sting of the blade slice into her arm, opening a long, shallow groove from which her blood flowed freely into the bowl. Delancre mixed his own blood in as well. He replaced the bowl on the table and mixed together the herbs, crushing them in a crucible and placing them in a vessel over a small fire. Smoke rose immediately, a not unpleasant mixture of sweet smells, including cedar and lilac. As he worked, Delancre chanted in a low baritone, “Mind to mind, magic to magic,” over and over.
The smoke wrapped itself around them, and Daye began to feel lightheaded. Delancre’s voice was hypnotic. She was quickly falling into the enchantment of this ritual, and Daye could sense on some level that to do so would be a terrible mistake. She struggled to resist.
Delancre could feel that Amanda was weakening. As her resistance faded, Delancre realized that this could actually work. He could insinuate himself into Amanda’s mind and take from her what she’d so stubbornly refused to give. Feeling empowered, Delancre lifted the bowl in the air and turned towards each of the four corners of the room.
“North, West, South, and East,”[i/] he intoned. [i]“Mind and Magic, open one to the other. By this blood are we bound.”
Delancre raised the bowl to his mouth, tipped it back and drank deeply of the warm blood held within. Slowly, he lowered the bowl back to the table and, dipping his fingers inside, moved over to where Amanda sat. He reached out and traced symbols on her forehead with the rich, red liquid on his fingers. He finished by tracing the blood over her dry, cracked lips.
Daye tasted the sickeningly salty blood on her lips. She struggled to resist the lethargy overcoming her body. She focused her eyes. Delancre was bending nearer and nearer to her, his blue eyes intent. Before Daye knew what was happening, his mouth covered hers. She felt the cruel thrust of his tongue between her lips and heard the chanting of the mages rise towards a crescendo.
In her mind, Daye felt Delancre’s consciousness thrust past her barriers as his tongue had invaded her mouth. He swept through her thoughts and she fought, but she was weak and tired. He rampaged through her mind, overriding her resistance easily. He stormed through her mind, unearthing her secrets. When he found what he wanted, Delancre ripped it from her.
Daye struggled to resist him, but she was wasting her energy. Delancre was taking everything from her. Her consciousness fled in the wake of his brutal assault. Inside her head, she screamed again and again as he ripped away her defenses and ravaged her mind. She couldn’t fight him. She couldn’t protect her friends. She was too weak. So she retreated further and further inside herself.
Delancre finished with Amanda, taking from her everything he wanted to know. Finally, he physically pulled away from her mouth. Amanda sat stiffly in the chair, her mouth smeared with blood. She stared at him, but Delancre could see that she was not really looking at him. He grinned in triumph. She’d retreated deep inside herself. Maybe she was broken for good this time. Wouldn’t that be an added bonus?
“Forth,” Delancre barked to one of the mages in the corner. The weasely little man came forward, pushing his hood back.
“Sir?” Robert Forth stopped a few feet from the First Elder.
“I’m finished with Miss Blaise,” Delancre said, his tone bored. “You can have her. Do whatever you want with her, Mr. Forth.”
Robert’s eyes widened in grateful surprise. “Yes, sir,” he stammered, all but salivating. “Thank you, sir.”
Delancre did not reply. He was no longer interested in what happened to Amanda. He had what he wanted. Now he had to decide how to proceed. “Mr. Marcus Dalton,” Delancre murmured, moving out of the room. “Well, I guess it’s time you learn what it means to cross Ambrose Delancre, Mr. Dalton.”
Rescuing Daye
***Tuesday, 29th May 2007 - 7:25pm – Beach near Hollywood Hills***
Kate glanced at the illuminated face of her watch as the small pleasure craft quietly cut through the gentle waves towards the stretch of beach that lay beneath the scabrous headland overlookedby the Watchers’ Council Mansion. It was almost 7:30; Kyle and Darian should already be in position waiting to put the second part of this plan into action. If everything went well, their ‘distraction’ should allow Ryan, Marcus and herself enough time to infiltrate the compound, find Daye and make a swift exit before anyone became any the wiser.
Kate rolled the sleeve of her black sweater back in place as Galen cut the engine and they took up the paddles to steer the boat up onto the shore.
Ryan stood on the secluded stretch of beach and waited impatiently for Kate and the third member of their little party to clamber out of the small boat which had ferried them this far. Galen Eldridge was helping his wife down, his face etched with worry.
He would be staying with the boat, ready for their imminent return. Ryan knew that Galen vehemently opposed this plan, but he'd been outvoted on all counts. Which was why Ryan had promised to insure Kate's safety himself.
Ryan eyed Marcus Dalton with distaste as the man took Kate's arm and assisted her across the shifting sand. Ryan had only met the man a few minutes ago, but he had already had a pretty bad opinion of the man. Dalton was arrogant and mercenary, and if Kate hadn't vouched for him Ryan would not have been willing to include the necromancer. Dalton had been very close to Daye before her capture but, according to Drew, the man had only been willing to help if there was a profit in it for him. Even though Marcus was the reason Daye was cured, Ryan still wished they had been able to find an alternative to employing the man.
Kate and Marcus finally caught up to Ryan.
"The entrance is there," Ryan said, pointing to some undergrowth at the edge of the beach. "We should find a door just there, beneath that brush."
Kate followed as Ryan led the way and threw himself headlong into the undergrowth in search of the door, discarding driftwood and other remnants that years of high tides had washed in to obscure the old smugglers’ entrance. She glanced at Marcus who stood nearby looking as cool and unaffected as usual, and had to admit that though she was glad to have some back up tonight she still felt her previous resentment for the man festering deep inside. Her resentment for his callous profiteering seemed not to have abated during her lengthy absence from Los Angeles but she cast it aside in the same manner that Ryan discarded the brush that covered their entrance.
Marcus glanced around the beach for a second longer than the others, gave a nod to Kate’s husband and followed the other two in. Onyx wasn’t accompanying him on this little excursion, a fact she had argued vigorously against but Marcus saw no need for her presence. Kate was a powerful witch; Ryan obviously was a capable warrior. Onyx would therefore add little except another body and if things degenerated that far he was prepared.
Checking the oily, black, teardrop-shaped stone one last time Marcus pulled out a pistol and screwed a silencer to the barrel. Marcus’ eyes adjusted to the dim light cast by Ryan’s torch and he let the wall of hostility emanating from both Kate and the demon separate him from them both. They may dislike his profiteering but Marcus had stopped making apologies for who and what he was a long time ago.
Ryan led the way through the maze of tunnels, checking and rechecking the tattered map he held in his hand. The tunnels that they passed through were littered with broken crates, smashed bottles and even the occasional skeleton, long since preserved by the passage of time. Ryan ignored all obstacles, ploughing ahead in silence. Finally, after what seemed hours in the near dark, he stopped suddenly.
Kate almost bumped into Ryan as he halted so abruptly and passed her his torch, the light shedding only a thin yellow glow into the enshrouding darkness. The dripping sound of water could be heard, echoing all around them in the deathly silence.
Kate was about to ask why they’d stopped when she noticed Ryan rummaging around the cave, his hands groping around at the moist walls of the cavern and she guessed this was where the entrance to the mansion must be. Kate hugged herself against the cold as she shone the light around the walls, highlighting Ryan’s blind search.
Marcus watched Kate and Ryan search around for a moment. He presumed there was an entrance nearby but all he saw was the cold earth. Since his companions seemed to be at a loss, Marcus extended his senses. At first there was just the feel of the countless creatures covering the walls around them but then the faint echo of a once living wood came to him from over their heads.
He reached out and gently grasped Kate’s hand directing the beam of the torch upwards. “Is that what we’re looking for?”
Ryan glanced up to where the man was pointing. Just above them in the short tunnel was a small wooden door. During his escape, Ryan had followed a different path, leading from the grounds instead of inside the house. The trapdoor above them resembled the one he'd used to enter the network of tunnels, though.
"Yeah," Ryan whispered, "that's it." Ryan studied the opening for a moment. "Now, how do we get up there? I'm guessing whatever ladder they used to use has long since rotted away."
Ryan turned and studied his companions for a moment. "I might be able to jump, but that's not going to work until the door is open, so there's a ledge for me to grab hold of. So, which of you wants to be boosted up?"
Marcus slipped his pistol into a pocket and interlocked his fingers before crouching slightly. "That sounds like my cue."
Ryan eyed the necromancer incredulously. Marcus couldn't have weighed more than a hundred and fifty pounds, and he was six inches shorter than Ryan. The idea of him being able to lift the demon even a little was laughable. Ryan moved over the man and crouched down in front of him. "I think it would work better if I give you a lift."
Marcus put his foot in Ryan’s hands and was swiftly boosted upwards. His hands pushed at the iron-bound trapdoor but Marcus didn’t move it more than an inch. “Ok, I’m going to need a little more height I think.” Marcus shifted putting his shoulder to the door and Ryan slowly pulled his hands upward. With a drawn-out groan the door shifted a little and then more until Marcus could reach out under the door and push upwards with his hands. The rust-stiffened hinges helped somewhat, preventing the heavy wood from crushing the necromancer and a few moments more allowed Marcus to scrabble through the gap. With a ring to pull at and more leverage Marcus quickly lifted the trap out of the way then lay down and reached out his arms.
“Kate first, I think.”
Kate tentatively took her place in Ryan’s hands the same way that Marcus had, stifling a sudden gasp as the demon easily lifted her upwards towards Marcus’ outstretched arms. He grabbed hold of her, pulling her safely through the trap door with little difficulty.
Once Kate was clear of the trapdoor, Ryan knelt down and took a deep breath. He leapt upwards and managed to snag the overhead ledge with his fingertips. Straining, Ryan pulled himself up and through the door, ending up seated in the dust beside the other two. He took a moment to catch his breath and then sprang to his feet.
"Ok, let's get going," he suggested, turning towards the small doorway that led out of the little room they were now in.
Ryan led the group quickly through the cellar, searching each small room. He noticed the one that was now reinforced with heavy iron bars, and his heart plummeted when he found it empty. Maintaining a grim silence, he charged forward, leading them up the stairs and into the main house. Daye had been moved, obviously, and Ryan couldn’t bear to even consider what that might mean.
Kate stayed a little way behind the other two men as they made their way through the veritable labyrinth of corridors and hallways as they searched the mansion. Kate kept her senses alert to every slight fluctuation in their surroundings in case they might be discovered.
It was amazing the difference in the way her powers felt now compared to her last visit to the compound. Before the air had been heavy with oppressive magics beating down her every attempt to create a spell which might have unmasked Delancre. But now… she could sense a slight residue of that power still hanging in the background but it was greatly reduced; whatever the Sindell witches and Cole were doing back home was clearly very effective. She just hoped the other occupants hadn’t all noticed the change too.
They had just made their way to the third floor corridor, where many of Delancre's most trusted kept their quarters. Ryan paused outside one particular door, his face growing dark with fury. What the humans couldn't hear, but he could, was the sound of someone whispering inside the room. He recognised the voice immediately. Ryan held up a hand to hold off any questions. He inched closer to the door and leaned forward. He listened in silence and then turned to the others, his face alight with fury.
"She's in there," Ryan hissed. "She's not alone."
Ryan reached out and took hold of the doorknob, not the least bit surprised to find that it was locked. He shot one last look down the deserted hallway and then, taking a step back, rammed his shoulder hard into the door and jerked the knob, causing the lock to give way with a soft click.
Without hesitation, Ryan charged into the room. He stopped just inside the doorway, blocking the other two from entering as he quickly assessed the situation. The room was a bedroom, of course, dominated by a large bed near the window on the far side.
That bed was currently in use. Daye lay sprawled on top of the bed, completely naked. She was covered in short scratches, long shallow cuts, burns, and bruises. At the moment, Robert Forth was crouched over her, his greedy hands roaming her body. Daye lay perfectly still, staring off into the distance.
Ryan controlled the urge to run across the room and throttle the little mage who was taking such heinous advantage of the woman he loved. With careful stealthy steps, Ryan approached the bed. Robert was too caught up in his 'fun' to notice he was no longer alone.
"Not so high and mighty now, are you?" Robert's voice dripped hatred. He was dressed only in pair of trousers. He brought one hand to his belt buckle while he continued to pinch and knead Daye's bare breasts with the other. "Lord Delancre said I could do anything I wanted to you. You're all mine now."
Kate inched into the room behind Ryan, her face grimacing sadly as she beheld the scene and her once-friend so abused by this stranger. Daye was a pale shadow of the woman who had so confidently gloated over her conquests all those months ago, the woman Kate had fled from in despair. Now she just looked weak and pitiful.
Ryan hovered over the grotesque little man that pawed at Daye’s naked body, every muscle in his body tensing up, straining beneath his clothes as he reined in the desire to crush the man like a bug.
The creaking of a floorboard underfoot sent Robert Forth’s head snapping to attention, his face contorting into an expression of first surprise then anger, his eyes growing dark. “What the fuuu-?”
Robert’s attention was firmly focused on Kate and Ryan and he barely noticed Marcus standing at the door. Marcus raised his pistol and blessed Kate’s lack of height. Robert, his attention riveted to the threat Ryan represented, didn’t notice the tiny red dot that appeared on his temple. Kate had only moments to register the fact before Marcus’ silenced .22 pistol punched through Robert’s skull and turned his brain into blancmange.
Marcus lowered the smoking weapon. “Good riddance!”
Kate gasped, stumbling backwards in shocked horror, her hands flying up to cover her mouth before she did something stupid… like scream. Daye’s abuser lay slumped over the non-responsive woman, his eyes open and fixed into the same expression of dark anger. Kate could barely control her breathing and she gasped for air as she stared back at the dead man, her own eyes wide and terror-struck.
Ryan turned to stare at Marcus for a moment, amazed that the necromancer appeared so unaffected. Still, there was no time to dwell on what had just happened. Ryan would have loved to have been the one to kill the little rodent, but what was done was done.
Ryan moved forward quickly, shoving Robert's body unceremoniously to the ground. He hovered over Daye, reaching out to gently turn her face to his. She didn't seem to recognise him, or anything else for that matter. "Daye? Amanda, honey?" Ryan shook her gently. He got no response. He turned his fearful gaze on Kate and Marcus. "Dammit, what's wrong with her? What have they done?"
Marcus crossed quickly to the bed, sparing no glance for Robert’s corpse. “Daye?” he called quietly, but she was as unresponsive to him as she was to all the rest. “Dammit, this isn’t my…” He glanced back at Kate’s white face and frowned. “Kate! Snap out of it. He’s dead and Daye needs help!”
Kate’s wide eyes rose from the dead man to his murderer, hearing Marcus’ orders but she felt paralysed to the spot. She’d seen people killed before, in more brutal ways than the one she had just witnessed, but never so suddenly, never so absolutely. One minute he was alive and breathing and the next… gone, his light so casually snuffed out like the flame of a candle.
“Dammit.” Marcus marched over to Kate and dragged her to where Daye lay on the bed. “We don’t have time for this. Help her!” Leaving his companions with Daye, Marcus walked back to the entrance and crouched down. He looked up and down the corridor and hoped that they would get themselves together before someone else arrived.
Kate still felt numb inside as Marcus dragged her to Daye’s bedside, but seeing the woman just lying there staring into nothing broke the crippling shock that had gripped her.
Ryan covered Daye’s bruised and laceration-covered body respectfully, wanting to leave his beloved with a modicum of dignity as the witch knelt at her side.
Gently Kate reached out her hand towards Daye, peering into those blank eyes and her expressionless face. She guessed what was wrong as soon as she saw her; she’d seen the same symptoms many, many times before. Delancre was a powerful mage and Daye had always been a fighter. She had obviously put up a long and difficult struggle against his attempts to extract the information he so desired from her mind. But her condition now clearly indicated that she had lost that battle.
Kate carefully smoothed one side of her forehead, her fingers resting by her temple and then did the same with her other hand. She closed her eyes and slowly allowed herself to create a simple telepathic connection, slipping gently into Daye’s ravaged mind.
Tears rolled down Kate’s cheeks as she felt a myriad of pain and anguish suffuse her from Daye’s silenced thoughts. Kate opened her eyes and focused on her face, her own expression turning blank and lifeless as she repaired as much as she could in such little time.
*Daye…? Daye… can you hear me?* she called wordlessly, reaching out to that semblance of consciousness in a hope to reawaken her sister witch. *Come back to us, Daye… it’s time to wake…*
Daye had withdrawn deeply into herself during Delancre's vicious attack. She had fought him, trying to hide to keep her secrets her own, but Delancre had ultimately proved too powerful for her. Her mind was a gaping wound from Delancre's attack. Her consciousness cowered in the furthest, darkest corner. When Kate called out to her, for a moment Daye was sure she had finally gone mad. Kate, her best friend once, would not come to her aid. She did not deserve to be rescued by the other woman.
Tentatively, though, Daye pulled herself forward, moving towards Kate's sudden warmth. She reached out for the lifeline the other woman offered. Daye focused on Kate, pulling together her tattered mind, drawing herself back towards awareness. She could feel the ravages of her mind as well as those of her body. *Kate?* Daye's inner voice was weak.
Kate’s eyelids fluttered open again at the sudden response before she quickly resumed her concentration. They’d stayed here too long; someone must have noticed the lowered wards or heard their entry - they had to get out now.
*Daye,* repeated Kate soothingly, *I know you’re in pain but you have to trust me. I’m here to take you home, it’s all over now…*
Ryan was watching Kate closely. Everything depended on the witch and her abilities now. And she really needed to hurry. Time was of the essence. Daye lay perfectly still and then suddenly, she shifted. Her eyes lost their glazed look as she blinked rapidly and then focused on Kate seated beside her.
"Kate," Daye's voice was a hoarse whisper. "You're really here."
Ryan breathed a sigh of relief. "We have to get going," he said gently. "I'm sorry, but there's no time for a reunion just now."
Daye's eyes flew to him. She tried to smile around the bruises and cuts on her face. "You came back for me," she whispered gratefully.
Kate cradled the back of Daye’s head gently as she helped her sit. She still seemed so sickly and fragile though, there was no way she was walking out of here. Wrapping the bedsheet around her more securely, Kate turned to Ryan. “You’re going to have to carry her, she’s too weak and we need to hurry.”
Ryan nodded without speaking. He bent down and easily swept Daye up into his arms, then turned towards the door. "Is it clear?" he asked Marcus, who still crouched keeping watch on the hall.
“So far.” Marcus stood and stepped out into the corridor, his gun held loosely in his hand. “Let’s get moving, shall we?”
Ryan swept out of the room with Daye cradled in his arms Kate followed behind and then Marcus covering the hallway. A pair of demons stepped around the corner and Marcus swore. He squeezed the trigger twice on his pistol and two enchanted pieces of metal flew down the corridor. *All things die,* Marcus thought grimly as the pulses of necromantic energy held in the lead robbed the demons of life.
“Run!”
Kate felt Marcus give her a firm push onwards, not even allowing her to register what he’d done. Delancre’s demons were like Ryan, brainwashed into serving him; they weren’t evil like they’d supposed and now they lay dead just like the man in Daye’s room. Kate stumbled blindly forwards, following Ryan at a quickened pace as they fled down the hallways back the way they’d come.
Ryan held Daye close, racing ahead. He tried to maintain a pace that Kate could keep up with, though. He had promised Galen that he'd keep his wife safe.
As they tore down the stairs to the first floor of the house, a full patrol of six heavily armed demons came around the corner and caught sight of them. "It's The Nightwalker," the leader of the squad shouted. "Stop him! Someone go get Ana or Delancre!"
The demon soldiers charged, heading straight for Ryan and the others. Ryan couldn't fight. He had to soldier on and depend on the others to take care of this little problem. Without a backwards glance, he turned towards the last set of stairs leading to the cellar.
Kate had feared such an attack and had come well prepared. As the demon soldiers advanced she removed a dark stone from her pocket, crumbling it in her hand. She blew the powder in the direction of the demons.
“Darksome powers of the night,
Send my enemy in shaded flight,
Send my enemy away from sight.”
A swirling wind seemed to grow from the grey powder, sweeping upwards and devouring the first few demons that fell in its path, their forms vanishing from sight in the blink of an eye.
The red dot of Marcus’ laser sight ranged over the remaining demons, pausing on each only for a moment. Three more magical pulses later and three dead demons dropped to the floor. Ryan had already made the ground floor by that point and Kate and Marcus weren’t far behind.
They reached the cellar at a dead run and Marcus heard more shouts behind them. Ryan pulled Daye close and simply dropped through the trap door before setting her aside momentarily to catch Kate as she dropped.
Marcus pulled out the teardrop and fired another couple of shots to discourage any pursuit. “Run,” he shouted down to the others, “and don’t look back for anything.”
Marcus turned away and cast the stone into the air, "Sekhmet, Mistress of Dread I summon thee…" The black teardrop shattered into a thousand pieces and an awful sense of doom pervaded the entire room then flowed outwards. Marcus heard only screams behind him as he jumped down the trap door.
As he ran to catch up with the others he continued to chant under his breath, maintaining the hair-thin control he had over the Avatar of Death he had summoned.
Ryan could hear the terrible screams echoing from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, glad to see that Marcus Dalton had managed to catch up. He ran, his lungs burning in his chest, until he came to the opening on the beach. Flying out of the small hole with Daye still cradled against his chest, Ryan stopped by the boat, turning to watch the others emerge.
Daye lifted her head and scanned the beach when they came out into the open air. She drew in a deep, cleansing breath and then watched with Ryan as Kate and Marcus came out of the hole in the sand.
Kate was trembling with barely restrained anger as she trudged back along the beach towards the boat where Galen still waited for them, the sound of those terrifying screams still sounding in her ears. This wasn’t what she’d signed up for - all this death and pain - it wasn’t what they’d planned.
As Marcus came up from behind she turned around angrily, breathless with the exertion of their run and the power of her emotions that felt like acid in her stomach. She could still see the cold callousness in the necromancer’s eyes as he’d shot that man and she found herself unable to restrain her feelings any more.
“What in the name of Hades were you doing back there!?” she cried in fury. “Where in any of the plans that we went through did I mention that you were to go around killing everything in sight!?”
Marcus completely ignored Kate’s shouts and instead, white-faced, turned and slammed the door to the tunnel shut. His chant rose in intensity and something primeval slammed into the door. There was a second and then a third impact and then silence reigned.
Absolutely furious, terrified at how close he had just come to death, Marcus wheeled on his companions and shouted, “Which of you idiots does not understand the phrase ‘don’t look back for anything’?”
Marcus passed a hand over his face and managed to get his blinding anger under some semblance of control. “You hired a necromancer, Catherine. What was it exactly you expected? Cute kittens and fluffy bunnies?”
“There are other ways, Marcus!” raged Kate, not budging an inch from the ground on which she stood. She doubted that anyone would mourn the loss of those that had died that night, but she had seen enough death lately to feel it more keenly than she might have in other circumstances. “There are other ways than going on a goddamn killing spree, than, than swaggering around like some bloody trigger-happy gunslinger!”
As Marcus continued up to the boat Kate ran after him. “You killed that man in cold blood! You killed those demons… they, they weren’t even in control of their own minds! They were innocents. Marcus, it’s not for you to decide their fate! You might be a Dalton but you’re not a God!”
Ryan stared incredulously at Kate. He followed Marcus up into the boat. Once they were aboard, he set Daye down gently on the deck.
"Not my business, I guess Kate," Ryan began. His voice was soft and calm. "But the way I figure it, those demons are better off now than they were before. Death is preferable to living that way. Believe me."
Ryan paused, turning towards Marcus. "As for Forth, if you hadn't done it, then I would have. The slimy bastard deserved far worse than what you gave him. Daye wouldn't ever have needed to be rescued if not for him. So, thanks for what you did."
“We were in a life or death situation, Kate,” said Marcus, focusing his attention onto the irate witch, “and I don’t have your options. You had your preparations, I had mine. If you don’t like the results then it’s easy. Next time don’t ask me for help.”
“You don’t understand, do you? There were other people in there, Marcus,” intoned Kate angrily. “Our people, friends… they set up the distraction so we could get in there in the first place! How on earth are they supposed to cope with that- that hell demon you unleashed in there! If you’d stuck to the goddamn plan…!”
“What the fuck is going on here?” swore Galen rigidly, helping his wife on board and holding her close, wrapping a protective arm around her as she averted her eyes from the others. She looked terribly pale and was trembling almost uncontrollably beneath his embrace. “Kate?”
“Nothing,” muttered Kate quietly, sitting herself down in the boat, maintaining her distance from the others. Marcus was right: she shouldn’t have asked for his help, though deep down she knew they probably wouldn’t have made it out of there alive if it hadn’t been for his ‘preparations’. As for Ryan… the only thing he cared about was Daye and he had her now.
“Just a slight… difference of opinion,” she added morosely. *And the fact that three of my friends might not get out of there alive,* thought Kate with worry as she stared up at the cliff face where the Watchers’ Mansion loomed. Kyle and Darian were in there… somewhere. Tash too, with Nikolai waiting in tow. *Please be okay,* she prayed silently, *please…*
Kate held herself against the cold as everyone settled themselves in the boat, Daye mewling quietly in Ryan’s arms like a newborn kitten. There wasn’t time to go back; they had to get Amanda home now or she might not make it. The healing job she’d done in the mansion was only a quick fix and it was obvious that the woman needed serious medical attention.
“We should get out of here,” Kate mumbled numbly.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Tuesday, 29th May 2007 - 7:25pm
Watchers’ Headquarters – Hollywood Hills
On the far end of the training ground, two figures clung to the protective shadows of a large oak tree, waiting patiently to put their clandestine plan into action. The small fraction that remained of the White Hats had finally managed to organise themselves and – for the first time since the unfortunate split – work as a team. Not that they really had a choice; a plot this complex and dangerous would be impossible to pull off without their combined resources.
“Ok, almost time,” Darian said, finally breaking the silence between him and Kyle. “Now remember, if anything goes wrong, I should be able to provide enough of a distraction for you to get away, you clear on that?”
Kyle gave Darian a look of venom and sighed. “Yes, I got it the first time you said it. And like I said the last ten times, if something goes wrong you don’t have to worry about me getting away. I’ll be long gone.” He patted several of his pockets. “Aww, crap. My smokes have fallen out. You seen ’em anywhere?”
“Shut up!” Darian hissed. “It’s almost time, and I think I can see her.”
As the big hand of his watch finally ‘ticked’ to the appropriate minute, the fae nodded to the Kaoshian, signalling that the time had finally come.
“Be careful,” was all that Darian said before the two split up, Kyle towards the back wall and he towards the battle field. *Well, this is it…* Taking a deep breath and putting on the most believable face he could muster, the fae made his way out to the group of demons who were being instructed by Tash.
When he reached sufficient distance and he was sure Kyle was completely out of sight, he called out, “Hey, Tash, got a second?”
“Team up for one-on-one sparring,” Tash commanded, then turned to scowl at Darian. She’d put all thoughts of him from her mind, and had been just as happy that she’d not seen him about the mansion much in the past two weeks. She figured he’d been avoiding her – and well he might, after the inflammatory things he’d said that morning he’d come calling on her.
“What do you want?” she growled. “Decided to come crawling out of your hole, did you?”
“I guess I deserve that,” Darien retorted, biting back the urge to snap at the woman. He needed to keep his cool if the plan stood any chance of working. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said last time we spoke. I… I-” He stuttered, cursing internally that he hadn’t thought out an exact cover-up. If there was one thing Darian was not good at, it was subterfuge.
“I was just worried about Cole, and the whole ordeal with my powers being stolen. But that’s not why I’m here.” He leaned in closer to the huntress, and dropped his voice. “I need to speak to you in private, it’s about the White Hats.”
Tash kept her arms crossed and her expression remained cold and closed. “Really,” she said disbelievingly. She made no move to leave the spot she occupied and simply stared at the increasingly uncomfortable fae. “So now that you’re beginning to look at the wider picture, you’re wondering why there are two such different versions about what’s going on, is that it? I already know the ‘White Hats’ – or what’s left of them – are busy trying to dig up dirt on Delancre. Have you really got anything interesting to say, or are you just fucking with me?”
*Shit.* Tash was no fool, and as it stood it didn’t look like she was going to buy the story. Darian’s mind raced with possibilities: he could knock her out now… no that wouldn’t work, he would never get out of the mansion’s grounds. He had no choice but to hope and pray Tash would finally cave into coming with him.
“They’re doing more than just digging up dirt,” he conveniently let slip. “But Tash, I don’t want to tell you here. If Delancre gets word of any of this… the White Hats don’t deserve his punishment, they just need enlightenment.”
“Hmph.”
For a long moment Tash silently regarded her once-friend, then turned and barked orders to the demon squad to stand down. It went against her better judgement, and Darian was emitting a distinct air of untrustworthiness right now, but there remained the possibility that he would tell her something useful. And if she was prepared for a betrayal she stood a good chance of avoiding it. Besides, what could Darian possibly do to her in the middle of Delancre’s stronghold?
“All right then,” she said as she moved away from the training area and towards a quieter garden nook. When they were out of earshot of the arena and couldn’t even see the house due to a large hedge, Tash turned to face Darian, her expression still unyielding. “So what are they up to this time?”
Darian glanced down nervously at his watch, wishing the second hand would move faster to the time when he and Kyle were meant to trigger the alarms as cover for the group sneaking Daye out, otherwise it was only a matter of time before Tash caught on to his real motives.
“The White Hats, well you see, the thing is, uhhh, they don’t like Delancre right? So anyways, there’s this big rumour going around, don’t you just hate rumours? My father always told me ‘Darian, rumours are bad, and only cause a lot of trouble’… I guess he-”
“Get to the point!” Tash commanded, her impatience growing exponentially as each moment passed.
“Right, the point… What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, the White Hats. So yeah, I think they may be planning to do something to the mansion here. Kinda like what we did to the Elders back in October.”
Tash paled. Surely they wouldn’t be so foolish? The White Hats could do a lot of damage here before Delancre’s forces stopped them, and might put her own plans into considerable jeopardy. No, it must be a lie – but her senses told her that Darian wasn’t exactly lying, though there was definitely something he wasn’t telling her.
She prepared to grill him, to delve right to the bottom of this and rip the information from his mind if necessary, when screaming broke out from the direction of the house. This wasn’t ordinary screaming, either. The noises issuing from human – and demon – throats sounded like they were undergoing the most hideous torment possible. For a moment she wondered if the other ‘White Hats’ could be responsible for this, but from the feeling of shock and surprise from Darian this was not something he was expecting in the slightest.
“What the hell?”
Heedless of Darian at her heels and not even noticing Kyle, who had emerged from his hiding place near the wall, Tash dashed to the edge of the topiary and pulled up short. Darian nearly ran into her back as she stared in horror at the scene before her.
*Umm… did we do this?* Kyle asked himself as he watched the demons run in terror and a strange feeling of dread settled over him, one he hadn’t felt since he had been at the Lone Peak Clinic. He watched as one demon after another was engulfed by some sort of glittering, black cloud and their desiccated corpses dropped on the ground. Then, with increasing dread, he watched as the cloud began moving implacably towards them.
“Uhh, I suggest we, y’know, do something… like running, for example…” the demon said aloud.
A small part of Tash’s brain registered Kyle’s sudden appearance and thought to itself, *Ah ha! I knew it was a trap,* but the rest of her was busy piecing together parts of a strange puzzle.
She watched in awe and amazement, and a certain degree of fear, as the amorphous black cloud traversed the grounds from the house and across the training fields, pausing only briefly wherever a large number of living beings congregated. The squad she’d just been training rushed towards it for several dozen yards before slowing, their faces contorting in uncertainty and horror. It turned its attention to them and soon there was nothing left of the squad but a pile of dried husks and the echoes of their tortured cries.
“Ibilisi.”
This creature seemed to be very much like the sort of thing she and Marcus had been discussing at last week’s meeting. It was too much of a coincidence to see something like this a mere handful of days after helping the necromancer discover how to control such an entity – and Tash didn’t believe in coincidences.
Still, it put her in a unique position. She could save herself, at least, though she wasn’t sure she’d be able to banish the being back to where it came from. Not easily, anyway, and time was of the essence. Besides, a whole slew of trooper deaths would only serve to bolster her zombie army – she knew this creature thrived only on life force, so her zombies were safe from it.
Tash fought the oppressive feeling of doom that washed over her as Ibilisi – or whatever version of her that Marcus had summoned – carved a path of death that took her ever closer to where the trio stood. Shivering, Tash concentrated on the protective ritual. Having just gone through everything associated with this recently, it was easy to recall.
She quickly flicked out a knife from her wrist sheath and nicked her palm, placing the blood over her heart as she muttered,
“Mtanguliziausi za ukomo,
Kengeua vyako nadhari.
Ibilisi, mie nyako mbuya,
Tena wewe wasia miye-pulika!”
The enchanted aura that the fae exuded began to tingle as the black smoke drew closer. Thanks to Evexus, Darian had a natural resistance to most things magical, but this was different; faery or no faery, Darian would not be left standing if the cloud managed to cover him. Charging his body like a battery, Darian mustered up the elemental powers inside and released them full force into the coming spectre.
“Well that was pretty useless,” he noted, as the brilliant blast of lightning arced through the insubstantial being and dissipated harmlessly into the ground.
Kyle dragged his eyes away from the cloud… thing… to watch Tash. Every instinct was telling him to run for all his worth, but Darian leaned over before he could take a step. “No, she's Queen of the Damned,” he hissed. “If she's not moving, this is the safest place to be. Don't move.”
The Kaoshian demon couldn’t argue with that sort of logic, and Tash’s actions were definitely hinting at her doing something Queen of the Damned-ish. So, against his better judgement, he held his ground. That and the fact he had been rooted to the spot with terror. Still, he watched Tash grab her knife, cut herself, and start babbling some crazy language, her eyes focused on the cloud. Taking a wild stab in the dark, Kyle figured either she was doing something to the thing, or she had gone completely in insane. *What is it with me and weird things that are trying to kill me at the moment?*
Out loud he said, “Okay, if I wake up in a corridor with one door open in a minute, I am not going to be happy at all.”
By the time Tash had finished the short form of the ritual, the avatar was almost upon the small group. Not knowing exactly which form of Death Marcus had summoned, Tash was limited in what she could do, but she held firm as it advanced another few feet after she finished her final phrases.
She could all but taste Darian and Kyle’s dismay that she’d failed, but then the black form seemed to quiver and shrink in upon itself a little. It changed direction and continued its ravages elsewhere, to Tash’s great relief.
“Right,” she said smugly, turning around, “it won’t come anywhere near me now.” Her eyes narrowed at the pair standing before her, particularly Kyle. “So, what’s your damn game? What do you know about that?” she asked, gesturing over her shoulder with her thumb, where screams of terror still echoed across the mansion grounds.
“And you,” she rounded directly onto Kyle, “Have you thrown in your lot with him? With them? You had a good thing going here until you screwed it up.”
“Well,” Darian sighed, thankful that the immediate danger was passed. “You’ll be happy to know that I have absolutely no idea what the hell that was, or how it got here. BUT, you’ll probably be a little peeved at me for this.”
In a blink of an eye the fae reached out, grabbed Tash, and slung her over his broad shoulder. “NOW, KYLE, OVER THE WALL!” he screamed, as he darted for the back gate, his right arm still wrapped tightly around the woman’s body to prevent her from moving.
“Don’t move if you don’t want to hurt yourself,” he said to the now fuming Tash, before he pushed off the ground, his superhuman strength sending the pair flying over the barrier and off the grounds of the mansion.
Kyle ignored Tash’s words and scrabbled up and over the wall. His exit was nowhere near as stylish or graceful as Darian’s, and he swore a whole lot more, but eventually he made it over, hitting the ground the other side just as Tash was fighting her way out of Darian’s arms, cursing a blue streak that nearly put him to shame. He didn’t waste a second moving over towards her. “Please, Tash, don’t come quietly. All this incorporeal business just makes me want to hit something.”
Tash was more than happy to oblige. She stomped hard on Darian’s instep to make him loosen his grip enough for her to struggle free of his grasp, and swung a punch at Kyle that caught him in the midriff. It wasn’t her best shot, by any means, but she’d recently fended off a life-sucking manifestation of Death, been hurtled over a wall and nearly had the wind crushed from her chest. It tended to put her off her usual form a touch.
The ear-piercing shrieks of the wall alarm mingled with the more organic sounds that still floated from the mansion, though the sounds of death were diminishing. Whether that was because the creature was heading home or whether it was simply because it had run out of easy pickings, Tash wasn’t sure, and right now she didn’t care. She was more concerned about dealing with her more immediate problems.
The knife she’d used for the ritual was still clutched in her hand and she brandished it, manoeuvring to try to keep both her adversaries in her line of sight. Darian and Kyle had other ideas, however, and while she slashed at Darian with the blade on one side, Kyle came at her from the other and she was barely able to dodge out of his way.
With Tash off balance, Kyle followed up with a blistering salvo of punches that drove her back again and again, not giving her a chance to put the knife into action. But he got too cocky, and fell to her feint to the left. Tash used the time wisely, punishing Kyle for his slip by taking wide swipes with the blade to which he just managed to jump out of the way. ‘Just’ wasn’t always enough, and there were a couple of torn slits in his shirt by the time Darian came back into the fight, grabbing Tash’s knife-arm mid blow. The two grappled with the knife, and Tash finally dropped it when Kyle hit her hard in the stomach.
Catching the breath that had whooshed out of her, Tash straightened quickly, turning the move into a high kick that sent Kyle reeling for a few moments. That gave her time to turn her attention to Darian, who still had hold of her arm. Wrenching free of his grasp she sneered at him.
“Oh please, Darian. You know you can’t take me. That must be why you brought your little demon buddy in on the act. You just can’t fight your own battles, can you? Is that what you said to Sebastian, huh?” Her tone mocked his. “Oh, sorry Seb, you’ll just have to die because there’s nobody here to fight for me.”
The force of her words crashed against him like a tidal wave, almost literally knocking the wind from his body. It had been close to a year since Sebastian had been murdered, but Tash’s malicious reminder invoked the painful emotions almost instantly. However, combined with the pain and sorrow of the memory, rage began to fuel the fae. The pupils of his eyes began to grow a darker hue of purple, as the weather around them began to mimic the strife boiling inside. Wind began to howl sharply as it whipped across their faces, billowing Darian’s wavy hair.
“You’re lucky I know that’s not really you talking, Tash,” he called out above the wind as he began to stalk forward, an edge of determination creeping in his gestures.
The rising wind drowned out the last of the screams from the mansion behind the wall. Ignoring the tempest that grew around them, Tash merely looked at Darian strangely before she threw back her head and laughed.
“You’re such a sad, pathetic, little man. Not me talking? Really, then who am I? Perhaps I’m Loki who’s changed into the form of your friend, to torment you. Or maybe the evil thing that lives inside you has burst out and been made manifest in this body?”
She crouched into a fighting stance, prepared to meet Darian’s advance head-on. “I am Tash, Darian. The woman who had to hold your hand throughout that entire trip on G’rnatha. The woman who coddled you like a baby with all those stupid, saccharine words when you let your best friend die.”
She snarled, “It’s me, and I’m sick of all your pointless whining. So come on, if you think you’re man enough. Come get me.”
The time for words had passed, as the fae ignored his friend’s comments and met the huntress head on. Originally, he had planned to make this as painless as possible, but now, with fire in his blood, Darian was far from caring if he hurt Tash in the process. Like a bolt of lightning, he danced around the woman; a spinning, twisting mass of anger, raining down blow after blow that Tash was hard pressed to block. It was obvious that Natasha was a highly skilled fighter, but when it came down to it, she just didn’t have the superhuman edge Darian did. With Evexus inside, he was stronger and far faster than humanly possible, and now, more than ever, he was using that power. Finally, after putting up a most impressive resistance, Tash could no longer keep up with the fae, and a quick roundhouse kick to the temple ended the duel.
Kyle staggered up and stared down at Tash’s sprawled form in disappointment. “Damn, I wanted to do that,” he complained.
“Too bad, I got there first,” Darian growled, some of his anger dissipating now that Tash was no longer capable of goading him. He felt a little bad about letting her get to him – he knew she wasn’t really herself. But some of the things she’d said…
“Hmph. Let’s just get her out of here,” he grunted.
Between the two of them, Tash made an easy burden as they hauled her across a short expanse of lawn to where Nikolai waited anxiously by his Monte Carlo. When he saw Darian and Kyle approaching, he opened the back door and rushed forward to help them bundle her limp body inside.
“What happened in there?” he asked, jerking his chin towards the wall that was too near for comfort and from where the screaming had finally quieted to a deathly stillness.
Darian and Kyle merely glanced at each other, then turned back to Nikolai and responded in unison, “You don't wanna know.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Tuesday, 29th May 2007 – 8:50pm
LA Watchers’ Council Headquarters
Delancre paused for a moment and took stock. For over an hour now he’d been involved in, firstly, finding out exactly what had happened, and then overseeing the restoration of order to his disrupted domain. From the evidence of the wall alarms and a couple of still-living witnesses, he’d pieced together what had happened to Natasha, and it pleased him not at all. That she had gone unwillingly was without question, but the fact that she was likely in the hands of the White Hats gave him cause for concern. They’d known where she was for several weeks now. To take her now, and in this manner, meant they were up to something.
The decimation of his troops was an even greater cause for concern. The zombie troops were untouched by the force that had been unleashed this evening, but the rest of his army had been cut to something like one third its former strength. Saracens would have to be chivvied along, and quickly. It was one more thing to add to his mental ‘to do’ list.
One of Ana’s lieutenants approached him nervously, and he acknowledged the demon with a cursory nod. Alarm flitted through Delancre’s mind when he realised this was the one who’d been sent to investigate the fate of Amanda Blaise. Delancre turned his baleful glare on the hapless trooper and barked, “Report!”
“Your Lordship, the prisoner is missing. Robert Forth is in her cell, dead from a gunshot wound. I smelled Nightwalker’s scent on the air, as well as two strangers. One male, one female.”
Even though the demon had kept his summary brief and emotionless in an effort to distance himself from the impact of his words, Delancre still glowered at him menacingly. “Gone? Gone?! Damn you!”
Backhanding the demon viciously, Delancre paced on the trampled grass, muttering furiously. “Those thrice-damned White Hats! How dare they? I swear, not one of them will wish they had ever been born by the time I’m- What?!”
The serpentine servitor who had tried to attract Delancre’s attention was now doing his utmost to sink into the soil. “Sssir, Misssss Alesssssa was looking for you, Ssssir. She assssked me to find you, Ssssir.”
For a long moment Delancre simply breathed hard while he regarded the quivering demon before him. Then he huffed and said, “Very well. Bring her to me… Wait!” Narrowing his eyes, Delancre asked, “Where has she been all this time?”
“Sssir, I couldn’t ssssay for all of it, but for the passsst quarter hour or sssso she’s been helping carry the bodiessss, Sssssir.”
“Hmph. All right. Bring her to me.”
Alessa brushed the hair from her eyes and grimaced when her dirty hands came away even dirtier. Sweat and dust mingled in her hands, body and hair into a disgusting mixture that clung to her as a second skin. A quick look around reminded her not to complain; better be covered with dust than be a desiccated husk. She took the body she was moving again, and humped it onto the growing pile in the middle of Delancre’s training field. She didn’t know what they would do with all these bodies. *Probably make zombies out of them,* she told herself in chagrin. *People should be allowed some rest,* she added. More so these demons. They had suffered enough in life. Even if they were her enemies, she felt terrible for this horrible death and the terrible fate that awaited them.
She had been in her room when the screaming had begun, and she had rushed to the windows to watch out. The terrible sense of dread that filled her when she watched the dark cloud of death chase and destroy those poor souls still lingered in her. Fortunately, Delancre’s rooms had not been in its way, or she would have ended as dead as the corpses she was helping to carry. There was no doubt in her mind what had happened in the mansion. Daye was now probably safe with the White Hats and she was thankful for that. Nikolai’s musical had indeed opened in time.
“Missss Alesssssa?”
The hissing voice startled her out of her reverie. She turned to see the familiar face of one of the demons assigned to serve her.
“Yes, Miko?” she asked, tiredness in her voice. She smiled reassuringly to the serpentine being.
“My Lord Delancre wantssss you to join him,” he answered with a shy smile in return. Alessa’s demeanour towards her servants was always gentle, if not a little aloof, and he felt secure with her – far more so than with his master.
“Lead the way, Miko,” she answered, and looked around once again before following the demon. She had known indeed what had happened, and she had an idea to what awaited her with Delancre. She could have used the distraction to leave the house as well, but that didn’t fit her plans. She was staying.
Delancre eyed Alessa up and down when she presented herself before him, and the faintest of smiles curved his lips for the merest second despite the terrible scowl he still wore. “At least you were not harmed, my love. Though you could certainly do with a bath.”
Alessa’s hand flew self consciously to her hair and she smiled at his wry humour, even in such a moment. “I must look like a shrew,” she apologised. Then she frowned, and looked up into his eyes. “What happened, Ambrose? I was watching through the window when that- that-” She couldn’t finish the sentence, and her shiver wasn’t feigned at all.
His scowl deepening, Delancre turned his head once more to survey the devastation left behind by the creature. It had taken all of his mages – the ones who had survived – their combined efforts to banish the thing. And he had a strong suspicion he knew who was responsible for summoning it.
“That damn necromancer. He must be working with them. Damn them all to hell!” he muttered. Turning to Alessa he vented some of his fury. “You want to know what happened? Let me tell you, my sweet. Those devil-ridden friends of yours are what happened. But then, you doubtless already know that, don’t you?”
He advanced on Alessa, his face slowly turning purple. “And what do you know about that damn necromancer? He’s responsible for all this death. So much for your White Hat friends and their much-vaunted morals – look at all the death they’ve caused! Go on, just look at what they’ve done!”
In the shocking silence that followed, his gaze turned inward as his mind mulled over the problem of Marcus Dalton. Not only had it been his demon assistant Onyx who had cured Amanda of the virus, now he was also arrayed in direct opposition to Delancre’s plans. Thinking aloud, Ambrose muttered, “The zombies could be a problem, with a necromancer against me…”
Alessa fought the urge to take a step back and instead she kept her ground. She could notice the silence that suddenly surrounded the two of them, and didn’t need to look to know the frightened faces of those around. Delancre’s rages were famous, and even if they had never been directed towards her before she had been prepared. Her life had taught her that the worst way to deal with a bully was to cower; that only incensed them.
“I do not know what you are talking about, Ambrose,” she said calmly, looking at him straight in the eyes. “You mean that the White Hats did this?”
She spat the words with derision. Her breaking from the White Hats was no secret to Delancre. She hadn’t had to lie about that. She had kept her ‘friends’ though, if not the liaison to the group; that also was no secret. ‘Always stay close to the truth.’ Nik’s words were her motto these days.
“My friends did this?” she repeated, but the question was more directed to herself than him. She frowned, disgusted. As much as she hated to admit it, Delancre was right in this. She remembered the pile of mummified corpses and shivered again. Had so much death been necessary? Were they so much different from him? Shaking her head she tried to clear her thoughts. *There must be an explanation for all this,* she thought.
Then the rest of his words sounded in her ears. “And what do you mean a necromancer? The last I knew of the White Hats, they didn’t have one in their ranks.” And that wasn’t a lie either; for as much as she tried, she really didn’t remember her friends even mentioning a necromancer.
*And what do you mean the zombies could be a problem?* she asked to herself, watching him intently while he obviously pondered on the matter. She frowned. Didn’t the zombies obey only Delancre? If so, she didn’t know how they could be a problem… but of course, if there was a necromancer around, zombies could become a liability indeed. A necromancer. A man who’d made working with the dead his living – and such a man was working with the White Hats?
Alessa fought to suppress a smile. Delancre’s army had been badly thwarted. She could understand his dilemma; if he got rid of the zombies his corps would become even less in number… That could be good for the White Hats, but since he would replenish his army anyway, better keep those ‘liabilities’ – even if it was a long shot that they could turn against him – than add in their loss too.
She walked a step forward and placed a very dirty hand on his sleeve, gaining his attention. “I don’t know how the zombies could be a problem, dear. Or that necromancer,” she added with derision.
“Why, this is the Council. You are the Council.” She stopped, letting her words sink in before going on. She smiled, trying to play with his ego. “What can they do against you? Especially now that you know what to expect? All this destruction,” she went on, gesturing around. “It was just a fluke, they took you by surprise. I doubt they could pull a stunt like this a second time. And I doubt this is a loss you cannot solve easily, either.”
Delancre grimaced. If only Alessa knew the true extent of his loss. The deaths of the bulk of his army he could recover from. The loss of Natasha was no great burden – although if she relayed her knowledge to the remnants of the White Hats things might get a little sticky, but really what did she know except what that Eldridge woman was already digging for? No, what truly infuriated him was the loss of Amanda. Now, more than ever, he had to find Sam Aubrey, and quickly.
A sneer lifted his lip as he regarded his lover, but he smoothed it out again with an effort. “Of course, my love. I know you’ve not been involved for some time now with that group of misinformed malcontents that call themselves the White Hats. I am sorry I snapped at you,” he said, sweeping a cursory bow. “It’s just…” He waved his hands in exasperation at the scenes of recovering chaos around them.
“But I fear you are ignorant of the ramifications of the introduction of a necromancer into their mix,” he said condescendingly. “Someone who can cause this would have no trouble in subverting my control over the zombies. If that group have taken it into their heads that I’m somehow up to no good, and they decide to make another attack… well, I think we were just lucky this time that the undead squad were nowhere near the house when this all started.”
He opened his mouth to order the destruction of the zombies, then paused. Alessa was right about one thing, at least. Issuing such an order would make him look weak. After all, Marcus Dalton was just one man – and the last time the family of necromancers had locked horns with the Council, the Daltons had been sent home with their tails between their legs.
“Pah! A mere necromancer doesn’t frighten me. I will simply have the zombies quartered in the furthest corner of the grounds until I have dealt with this gnat.”
Squaring his shoulders, Delancre straightened as though shrugging off this apparently minor concern. He began to stride towards the house, gesturing curtly with a nod to Alessa to indicate she should follow. As he walked he barked out orders to a group of aides who trotted beside him.
“Finish collecting these bodies, and I want them burned.”
“But Tash likes us to keep-”
Delancre’s hand flew out, dealing a vicious blow to the underling who dared interrupt him.
“Natasha,” he spat, “won’t be making zombies of this lot, even if she does manage to free herself and come back here – which I doubt. She is lost to us. If you see her, especially if it’s more than a day or two from now, you are to assume she is hostile to us and kill her on sight. Am I clear?”
The underling and several others around him nodded, and Delancre continued. “Once the corpses are dealt with, I want guard details drawn up and I want patrols out on constant sweeps of the grounds. I want to know where and how the group that took Amanda got in, and I want that access sealed. Report to me the instant you find anything. And I want the undead troops housed in the old stables at the rear of the property, as soon as possible.”
Leaving the nodding and “Yes, Sir”-ing cadre of aides behind him, Delancre put a possessive arm around Alessa’s waist and swept her along with him into the house. “Come, my dear. I feel the need of some time away from the stench of death, though I fear it will follow us into the house.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
May 29th - 9:14 pm
LA Watchers’ Council Headquarters
Delancre’s apartments
Alessa looked at herself in the mirror. She really looked a mess; dirty and disheveled. She needed a bath, as Delancre had said. She cocked her head and studied herself again. She didn’t feel different, and yet when she had decided to stay tonight she knew she was stepping through another threshold.
From the moment she had learnt the truth about Stuart, she felt as if she had been successively stepping through thresholds, each bringing her closer to her target. Delancre. When she had slept with him knowing who he was; when she had refused to get cured; when she had moved to the mansion; when she had let herself enjoy him…
Tonight it had been the last. By not going with her friends she had closed the last door behind her. Daye wasn’t at the mansion anymore; she was safe now, and so was Tash, fortunately. She didn’t have to worry about them anymore. That her friends had made no attempt to rescue 'her' was telling that they weren’t worrying about her, or at least that they trusted her enough to let her stay. She was alone.
She felt the same. No, that wasn’t entirely true. She felt, well, exhausted. And thrilled. *Soon,* she told herself before reaching over and turning the faucet on. With disgust, she took off her filthy clothes, checked the temperature and stepped behind the screen. Alessa let the water beat down on her and she could feel her muscles begin to relax. She put her face under the stream and closed her eyes.
She sensed him before she heard him. She kept her eyes closed and pretended she didn’t know he was there. Delancre stepped into the shower with her, his strong Watcher hands slowly massaging her shoulders. She smiled and relaxed under his touch. Soon, the sweet smell of her peaches shampoo reached her and his hands moved upwards to her head. He began to message her hair, being careful not to let any shampoo get in her eyes. He then turned her back around and helped to rinse the soap away.
She put her head back and he stepped closer, kissing her with a passion that made her forget herself. She responded by wrapping her arms around him. *Thresholds, indeed,* she said to herself when she felt him slowly back her up against the tiles. He lowered his hands to her waist and lifted her easily. She adjusted herself and wrapped her legs around his waist. She opened her eyes then, and, their gazes linked, they started to move in unison. The pace picked up and became frenzied as both neared their release and within moments their worlds simultaneously exploded.
Afterwards, he helped her slip into her bathrobe then he donned a towel. He went back into the bedroom while she languidly combed her hair. They hadn't talked but she had sensed something in him, something new. A new tenderness.
She heard him moving around the room and she stepped out of the bathroom, her brush still in her hand. She looked slightly surprised to see him putting on his robe again and moving towards the door. Alessa watched him questioningly.
"Are you leaving?" she asked, pouting a little. "I thought you were going to come to bed with me. I like falling asleep with you," she added, although her expression implied sleep was far from her thoughts.
Delancre turned at the door and smiled at her. "As much as I enjoy falling asleep with you, there is much to be done still, my dear."
His gaze rested upon Alessa's face again and his expression softened. He walked to her side and rested his hands on her waist, looking down at her. She was much shorter than him - deceivingly small- but he knew how strong she was nevertheless, and that always excited him. To know that she yielded to him, willingly this time, even when she could best him any time make him feel really good. He smiled and bent to plant a lingering kiss on her mouth.
"I'm sorry. I'll be back as soon as I can."
He raised a hand to caress her cheek and took a wet tendril of hair between his fingers. She had just changed it, making it fall in tight red curls around her face. She had even lightened her skin and sprinkled freckles over the bridge of her nose to match; but her features were the same, as were her sparkling green eyes, heavy with desire again. He loved how she kept changing her appearance all the time; he never knew how she would look from one moment to the other, although he never liked it best than when she took some other demonic form.
"Go to bed, love, you are tired and you need rest." He lowered his face and nibbled at her ear, making her giggle with delight. "Just keep that thought, will you? For when I come back."