June 15th, 2007
11:59 PM
A secret Grove in Scotland.
A MidSummer's Nightmare Pt 1
WOOOSH
Green light illuminated a circle of runes which lay carefully spread across the grove’s leaf-covered ground, drenching the otherwise serene setting in an eerie hue. It had been many years since the foliage of this forest was witness to such magics, but it was by no means the first. Twice did they gather for such a purpose; twice before had these same runes sprung to life. Twice before had the spell been cast.
With an angry cry, a lone owl flew from its perch high atop the grove, eager to leave the scene. The natural order was to be unbalanced; every beast, great and small, could feel it and end every animal fled, not wanting to bear witness to such atrocities.
As quiet as the night wind, an assembly of twenty-two hooded figures silently emerged from the black woods, congregating silently around the mystical circle.
With face shrouded in darkness, the only green-robed individual stepped forwards and into the circle to address the brothers and sisters of his order.
“With the passing of time, our Order has dwindled, our power diminished. Long has it been since our magic was as strong as that of our forefathers before us; but times change. On this night, we are at the strongest we have been in over a century. Our numbers have risen, and our power once again mighty. Because of this, it is time to forge a new destiny; now is our time. Now begins the era of the Order of the Fae!”
Those around the circle nodded wordlessly as their leader turned towards the North of the circle. “Bring force the vessel.”
Some of the druids parted slightly, revealing two individuals who looked rather incongruent in the somber setting. The comatose form of a large, scruffy individual hung limply from the broad shoulders of a young man. Beneath his angelic golden curls, a scowl of annoyance marred his cherubic face.
“Bring force the vessel, set up the runes, wash the robes… god, sometimes I think I should change my name to Cinderella.”
Ungracefully slumping the unconscious body into the center of the circle, the young man turned to face the head of his order. Although unable to see the grimace on the man’s face, he could feel the disapproving look no doubt chiseled underneath the green hood.
“What? Don’t look at me like that – and yes I know the look you’re giving me!”
A chorus of sighs could be heard from several of the druids, as if in unison the thoughts “Here we go again” played through their minds.
“Well what did you expect? There I am sipping my strawberry daiquiri, enjoying a nice Sunday reading, and then WHAM! You hit me with this! you know I almost dropped my Cosmo in the tub for Christ sake.”
The green clad man raised his hand, trying to silence the upset youth, but it was to no avail – no force on the planet had that type of power.
“Read my lips: I. Don’t. want. a. Sibling!!!!!!! I’ve spent over a hundred years as an only child, and you know what, I like it that way!”
“But you keep forgetting; you’re not an only child, my son,” a raspy voice whispered from behind the secrecy of his cloak.
“Oh PUUUUUUULEASE! That retard in LA doesn’t count. See, the way I see it is you needed a practice model before you perfected the spell with me.” He smiled arrogantly as he brushed out a single wrinkle from his tight fitting, stylish G-Star shirt.
Green orbs began to glow from beneath the darkness of the druid’s hood as his impatience grew steadily. “Although he didn’t turn out as our forefathers had planned, your older brother still lives, and after tonight Loki, so shall your new younger brother.”
“Oh GREAT. Now I’m going to be the middle sibling! You know they always turn out weird or crazy or something!”
“No ‘ifs’, ‘ands’ or ‘buts’ will make us change our minds, so please, my son, grab one of your Teen People magazines and go sit quietly while we work.”
With a great Huff the young man spun around, all the while muttering as he made his way outside the circle and back to where he actually did have a Teen People waiting on a tree stump for his return. “Stupid spell… stupid sibling… I don’t want another brother…stupid…OUUU, J-Lo has a new husband!”
Now that the distraction was silently engrossed in his magazine, reading up on how Peach lipgloss was the new Cherry, the coven of druids was ready to begin.
Stepping out of the mystical circle, the lead sorcerer began the chant, leading his confreres into weaving the intricate magic, and opening up the gateway. Not a single one blinked in hesitation as the helpless man still in the circle began to stir. He was a common street thug, some dirty ingrate of society Loki no doubt chalked up in the back alleys of one of the many bars he frequented.
As the chanting grew, the eerie green light of the runes changed colours, taking on an unnatural shade of purple. Wind began to whistle through the branches of the ancient trees as the balance of nature slowly began to tip out of alignment. Leaves recklessly twirled about, ripped from their homes, as the maelstrom intensified in strength. With a violent shudder the man, who was just ‘coming to’, began bleed from his eyes, ears and nose; the magic had reached its crescendo and was funneling directly into his weak shell of bone and flesh. That, however, would soon change.
As a new, evil entity poured into his body and merged with his very soul, the man felt power flow through his veins. At first it was painful, excruciating really, but as the seconds ticked by the pain was replaced with fiery energy, invigorating his previously weak, pathetic body. Had the feeling lasted any longer, no doubt the man would have relished in gifts bestowed upon him that day, but such was not his fate. Unlike the two men before him, his mind and soul were not strong enough to fight the iron will of the foreign entity and within the blink of an eye, his being was totally consumed by the dark faery.
“Freedom!!” he bellowed, springing to his feet, and outstretching his arms as if waking from a prolonged slumber.
The druids around the circle shifted uneasily as they gazed upon their creation; something wasn’t right, and they could feel it. The man was exuding too much magic, and his body was actually physically changing to accommodate the will of the faery inside him. Muscles began to bulge out, and the animated body grew almost an extra foot in height.
“You- you are ours to command. Now what is your name? You’re new masters demand it!” the chief druid called out, his voice unsteady and nervous.
The now towering behemoth smiled as it turned its purple eyes onto the setting around him. “Oh foolish mortals, you know not who you invoked this day,” it laughed condescendingly as it marched towards the threshold of the runes. With one terrifyingly powerful punch the magical energy shattered, allowing him to pass the circle’s barrier.
“How dare you?! We will teach you to obey!” Drawing forth a glowing rune stone, the green clad sorcerer held it high before the newly reborn monster. “Now OBEY!”
The faery flinched slightly, but then reached out, grabbed the stone from the old man’s hands, and proceeded to grind it into dust.
“I obey NO ONE!” it bellowed, before savagely snapping the neck of the druid. Before any of the stunned magicians could react, the monster ravaged through the group, bringing with him a tide of quick and certain death. “I am Kronor! Men and myths alike fear my name, for I bring with me the purity of oblivion!”
Somewhere in the middle of an article analyzing Brad Pitt’s abs and a new ad endorsing Ralph Lauren’s new fragrance, Loki’s keen ears picked up on the commotion off in the distance.
Springing into action, the man ran back to where the Order had been conducting the ritual, only to jerk to an abrupt halt. Beneath a pile of blood, gore and ripped off appendages, not a single druid was left alive. The horrific scene resembled that at the end of Kill Bill Volume 1 after Uma Thurman had cut her way through the Crazy 88s. The only difference here was the corpses lining the blood-stained ground were those of Loki’s now-extinct Order.
All the while unaware of the behemoth which hid magically in the shadows, Loki’s eyes widened as he took in the gruesome picture before him.
“HOLY MASSACRE BATMAN!”
reintroducing Ryan Phillippe as Loki
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Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
The Temple
Unknown Date
Evening
Nikolai found that it was easy to lose track of time at the temple, and his time there soon took on a simple routine. His clothing had quickly been replaced by simple robes in the course of his studies.
Four days per week, he spend in training; two working; and the final was given over to rest, but soon became a time he spent often either reading or meditating. It was a peaceful experience. The training days themselves had their own routine. In the morning, it was unarmed combat, then later armed; in the afternoon, philosophy; and finally in the evening, after everyone had eaten, meditation. Spirituality. And during it all, learning the language of the Xangyarj by full immersion.
A knock on the Spartan room awakened him from his rest, and he wandered over to the door to open it. Outside stood a woman with silver hair, and pale blue skin. One of the more demonic inhabitants, she was the woman who was called their seer. “It is time,” she said to him.
Nikolai looked confused. He hadn’t been warned of anything, or told of anything, and he had a pretty good idea of his routine. They wouldn’t break from it without good reason, which raised his curiosity. “Time for what?”
“To learn,” she smiled, standing aside and gesturing with her hand. He stepped out into the moonlit hall with a small deal of trepidation, looking around. The pair walked for a while in silence, with the seer not saying anything. Often times they would not speak except outside, so it wasn’t surprising that she said nothing until they had reached the garden.
He waited patiently, having learned already that their seer was a bit odd to say the least. She spoke most often in riddles when it came to something she had seen, or cryptically, hardly offering a reason for anything – except, perhaps, for “that’s what you do now.” It made conversations interesting. “Where are you?” she suddenly said.
“I’m… at the temple…” he said, being unsure of where this was going. Looking around, observing the area, he saw that things didn’t appear to have shifted. “In the garden.”
“And where is that?”
“In the crossroads, `in between.` Not that it was clear on in between what when you gave me the text to read.” His mind went back to a book she had given him two days ago, titled simply Crossroads. It was the seminal work of Kel’Za’s on where the temple was, but still had a good amount of philosophy in it as well, so was standard reading.
Then the seer said something even odder: “How long have you been here?”
Nikolai almost answered immediately in terms of the time that he had been there, about a month, then stopped. She had that look about her which told him that she might be looking for something else. “How long have you been here?” he asked curiosly.
She smiled. “As long as you and longer.”
It was a typical answer of hers, but by now he had started to get used to the way that speaking with her went. Sighing, he wasn’t sure how exactly to respond. “So, how long have I been here?”
“Always and never.” The seer looked in another direction, as though she were expecting somebody to show up who hadn’t, before turning back to Nikolai. “You came here to find your place, to find yourself. What have you found already?”
An eyebrow raised, Nikolai looked off in the direction she had looked before. It was a clear path which led outside. Someone would be arriving, he surmised, and she expected it. But there was something more: she didn’t know exact details. Not all the time. “Balance,” he said finally.
“The world too must have balance,” she said. “Everyone here has it, or learns it. Always remember that, Kolya. Death and life go together. But it is our custom to become attached to one as a mentor; soon you will meet yours.
“When you do, you must remember the Balance, the Hidden Unity. You are at the crossroads, in many ways, in between many more things than you know.” She took his hand in his, placing into it a small scroll. “Ponder this, now, until he arrives, as that is what you do now. I shall have nothing further to say to you, Kolya; my guidance has been given.”
Accepting the scroll, the woman made a fist and placed it into her upturned palm, while slightly bowing her head. Nikolai returned the gesture as best he was able, before pulling the black robes around him and proceeding further. There was just enough light to read on, and he knew the woman’s reputation well: nobody ignored her, because everything she had you do had a purpose. Opening it, he looked more confused than before as he read it.
“What is someone doing awake this late?”
Nikolai wasn’t sure how many times he had read that over, trying to make sense of it, but did resist the urge to jump. Turning in the seat, he saw there a tall man holding a oak staff topped with clear crystal, white hair, and blood ruby pendant. This was someone who he knew he had never seen there before. “Contemplating balance,” he said, still not sure what to make of it.
“Really?” the man who arrived began to walk over towards him gracefully. Nikolai relaxed and felt the emotions from him: he was a man who was clearly in control of what he felt, though right now he was more curious than anything else, and wondering. Also an amount of intrigue. The man was genuinely interested in this. “Balance between what?”
“The hidden unity,” Nikolai replied. Some of it did make sense, it seemed. “’The finest harmonia is composed of things in variance,’” he quoted. It did make sense, even in the perspective of his life: a man trained in death, and now able to use that art to preserve life.
There was a feeling of surprise and relief from him, as though something had become clear. “You are new here, then?” He walked over to the stone bench where Nikolai was seated, sitting next to him. “The human who is part demon?”
Nikolai raised an eyebrow in surprise. While the man didn’t look like someone who belonged here, it was often the case that many people who were there didn’t look like they belonged in a spiritual order… at least at first glance. Then the seer’s words came back. “You’re looking for me?”
“It would appear so,” he replied. “I suspect we will have much to discuss.”
Nodding, Nikolai wondered at the situation, and even if he had received similar guidance from the same woman who told him to wait here. It was obvious that she had seen them meeting for some reason, and that this man knew more than he was letting on. Still, he would have to be on his guard. “So, what do I call you, if we have a lot to discuss?”
“Vard-Lokkur.”
Baby Talk - Part One
Tuesday, 3rd July 2007 – 11:46pm
Kate and Galen’s Home
“No, I didn’t think it was provoking, I thought it was embarrassing!” Galen pushed open the front door, stepping to one side to let Kate through first before entering the house himself. They had spent the evening at the theatre watching some postmodern dramatisation of a Russian novel that apparently Nikolai had recommended awhile ago. It had been Galen’s way of trying to take Kate’s mind off everything; especially Amanda’s wedding which had been praying on her mind for the past few days.
It seemed that his plan had done the trick too, Kate seemed much happier despite his complaining about the content of the play which hadn’t been so bad except for the part where the lead tore off all his clothes and took it upon himself to leap back and forth across the stage. Call him crazy but Galen just didn’t feel the need to see some twenty-year old waggle his testicles in his face in order to be entertained.
“Embarrassing?” laughed Kate in amusement as she unravelled her shawl from about her shoulders and hung it up in the hallway. “Galen it was art, it was symbolic! Vronsky being naked was supposed to represent how innately vulnerable we are, how fragile and exposed we become when we allow ourselves to fall in love.”
“Well, art or not that guy was completely naked, I didn’t know where I was supposed to look for crying out loud!” Galen glanced at his wife and grinned, “…I noticed you didn’t have the same dilemma by the way.”
“Oh, you know I only have eyes for you,” teased Kate, smiling as she slid her arms around her husband’s shoulders, stroking her fingers lovingly through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. She had enjoyed herself very much that evening, it had been just what she needed to get away from all the worry and antagonism that had come as part and parcel of Daye’s inauspicious nuptials.
Brushing away those lingering concerns, Kate returned her focus to the wonderful man she had her arms around. If Daye’s predicament had taught her one thing, it was to be very grateful for what she had.
Smiling again, Kate traced a hand down Galen’s chest, her fingers dancing lightly against the crisp cotton of his shirt. “You know what your problem is? You have no appreciation for the human form.”
“Well I don’t know about that,” Galen said, mirroring his wife’s warm smile as the length of her slender body brushed temptingly against his own. He let his hands slowly slide down her back, exploring the arch of her spine beneath the soft, slinky material of her dress. “I’ve always had a deep appreciation for the female form… especially yours.”
Kate’s expression was coy yet secretive as she leaned in a little closer, her breath warm against Galen’s skin. She looked up into his dark brown eyes, gently brushing the edge of her nose against his cheek as she teased him with her lips, drawing back whenever he moved to kiss her.
“Oh really?“
“Really,” insisted Galen, as he slid a hand slowly back up his wife’s body. The play may have been a little disappointing but Kate looked absolutely stunning tonight, in fact he’d barely been able to take his eyes off her. He knew that if he didn’t make love to her soon he was going to go completely out of his mind. Returning Kate’s steady gaze, he pulled her firmly against himself, putting a stop to her playful teasing.
Kate gasped slightly at the sudden full contact of their bodies pressed so closely together, a smile forming on her lips again as she felt an ever increasing hardness straining against her hip. She looked up at her husband; her eyes fixed on his as he gently brushed back her hair from her face, his hand grazing the curve of her cheek.
“How about…” Galen whispered softly as he directed Kate’s lips towards his own, “I give you a little demonstration?”
With a light grin, Galen leaned forward, closing those last few inches that remained between them and enveloping her mouth in his own warm kiss. Kate moaned responsively, returning her husband’s soft yet hungry kisses, her lips lingering upon his as each caress sweetly melted into the next. Twisting her fingers into his hair, Kate held him close, drawing a short gasp through her lips followed by a light giggle as Galen gently squeezed her rear, bunching up the fabric of her dress in his hands.
“How did you enjoy the play?”
The couple immediately broke their embrace as the sound of Jack’s voice suddenly invaded the hall. Kate quickly tugged her dress back into place while Galen grabbed her arm and swiftly pulled her to stand in front of him just as Jack appeared through the doorway.
“It was very… provoking actually,” said Galen, his voice edged with strained discomfort as he hastily wrapped his arms around Kate’s waist, anchoring her firmly to the spot.
“Uh huh,” agreed Kate, a slight smile curling the edges of her lips at feeling the cause of her husband’s discomfort pressing against her lower back. “It was um… very interesting. How was your night?”
“Nothing spectacular,” said Jack, sensing more than enough sexual tension between his daughter and son-in-law than he cared to experience. It was something that would have entirely flustered him a year ago but he had to admit that he was getting used to it… to some extent. Kate and Galen were always very affectionate with one another and it was certainly more welcome than the alternative.
“I was about to go to bed actually,” he added briskly, “I just wanted to say goodnight.” Jack turned and headed towards the stairs but not without turning back to the abashed couple, a slight mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “By the way Galen? A bit of advice? That shade of lipstick really isn’t your colour.”
Galen wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, glancing at Kate who was doing her best not to laugh. “Well I’m glad to see that Jack doesn’t have a problem with walking in on compromising situations anymore,” he mumbled as his father-in-law made his way upstairs.
Kate smiled to herself, turning to face her husband and sliding her arms around his neck again. “Yes, well I’m sure he’s had enough experience,” she said, a wicked grin suddenly spreading across her lips. “Mind you, even I hadn’t realised just how compromised you’d become.” Her eyes flickered downwards briefly and she sighed in approval. “That is quite impressive Mr Eldridge.”
“I aim to please,” said Galen with a grin of his own, his hands taking a firm hold of his wife again as she pressed herself snugly against him.
Kate bit her lower lip coyly, looking into Galen’s eyes with lustful intent. “Well that remains to be seen,” she said quietly, trailing her hand down the length of his tie, tugging impatiently at the end. “Of course if you wanted to show me… give me another one of your demonstrations. We appear to be alone now.”
“Hmmm, what did you have in mind?” growled Galen as he grasped hold of her behind again, causing Kate to giggle slightly as he pulled at the clingy fabric of her dress, bunching it up in his hands and forcing the hem to rise indecently, exposing the top of her stockings. At the same time he slowly moved her backwards, directing her into the living room.
“Well… a… private demonstration of course,” said Kate softly while still holding onto her husband tightly as she slowly walked backwards. She swallowed hard as Galen reached his hand beneath her dress, his fingers sliding under the lace of her panties.
“Maybe a little… one-on-one session?” she continued breathlessly, stopping her retreat as her ankle hit the edge of the sofa. With a secure arm around her back, Galen swiftly placed his knee between her legs, easing her downwards onto the couch.
“I think that could be arranged,” he grinned, rubbing his hands over the top of Kate’s stocking clad knees as he gently spread them further apart, making himself comfortable between them. Slowly Galen ran a hand down her thigh, his fingers tracing the black satin covered suspender and lingering over the little ribbon fastening.
“Oh I like this,” he said playfully, leaning in to kiss that sensitive inner thigh area. “Hmmm, yes I like this a lot .” He looked up at Kate and smiled, hooking a finger around the suspender and twanging it gently against her skin. “Very sassy.”
The corners of Kate’s mouth curled upwards in amusement and she moaned quietly as Galen pushed her dress up around her hips, his hands sliding under the silky fabric and rolling it up even further before leaning low to trail slow, even kisses down her bare stomach.
“My god, you call this underwear?” chuckled Galen, drawing back slightly and scrutinising the skimpy little scrap of lace for a moment. “Hmmm,” he mumbled as he bent low again, continuing to explore his wife’s body with his lips. “I bet I’ve seen trawler nets with more substance.”
Kate giggled, smiling down at her husband as he continued to lay warm, seductive kisses across her body, his words creating delicious vibrations against her skin. She smiled softly, sighing with contentment and reached out a hand to comb her fingers through his thick brown hair. “Don’t tell me you’re complaining…”
“Well, no,” admitted Galen, halting his attentions to look up at his wife. She was watching him so intently; her dark blue eyes fixed on his every move. A warm fire blazed softly for him in those eyes, somewhere between love and lust, patient and yet demanding at the same time.
He returned her smile, lying down fully between her legs, the length of his body pressing urgently against hers. “I just wish I’d known you were wearing these tonight,” he said with a jovial grin, brushing back a wave of hair from Kate’s eyes, “it would have made that play a whole lot more bearable.”
“Oh you’re so bad,” said Kate teasingly, gently cupping Galen’s face between both her hands and drawing him lower. She looked up into his dark yet gentle eyes, feeling his warm, desirous breath against her skin. His body felt so good, heavy and strong against her own and Kate wriggled a little beneath him until she reached that position where their bodies seemed to fit into place.
“No, no, no, no…” disagreed Galen, leaning forward, his lips capturing his wife’s up in another soft yet hungry kiss. “I’m good,” he whispered quietly, directing his caresses to that sensitive spot just below Kate’s ear, “very good…”
Kate sighed appreciatively, rolling her head back against the arm of the sofa as Galen trailed kisses down the side of her neck, his hands sliding behind her back as he struggled to work the zipper of her dress.
“Oh… that is good,” she mumbled, closing her eyes as she allowed herself to be swept away by the warm sensations he was creating. At the same time Kate reached out and combed her fingers encouragingly through Galen’s hair again.
“You know…” she said slowly, her voice languid and relaxed with each syllable. “Marianne’s friend Rachel had twins last week…”
“Hmmm, a threesome?” moaned Galen as he worked his way down between Kate’s breasts, his voice muffled and heavy. “Twins hmmm? That’s good, that’s really good…” he said enthusiastically between kisses, “tell me some more…”
“No…” Kate giggled, opening her eyes only to roll them in disbelief at her husband’s one-track mind. “I meant had twins? As in… she gave birth to them.”
“Oh,” Galen frowned momentarily, looking up from Kate’s breasts as he momentarily stopped his attentions. “Well, I have to say honey, that scenario isn’t turning me on as much as the first, but then again, right now I don’t think there’s much that could put me off.”
Kate sighed as Galen resumed his kisses, finally succeeding with the zipper of her dress as he eased the fastening down, slipping his hands inside.
“Marianne was showing me the cutest little outfits she’d bought for the baby shower,” Kate continued. “They were so adorable and… well it got me thinking…” she paused for a few seconds, gasping slightly as Galen’s worked his hand under her panties again.
“Things seem to have settled down,” she forced out, trying to recall what she was going to say despite the very, very nice things her husband was doing to her body. “A-as much as they probably would at any rate…” Kate gasped again, taking another moment to compose herself. “I-I guess, well I couldn’t help but feel a little-“
Galen pulled back, panting from a mixture of strained arousal and exhaustion. “Please tell me the next word you were going to say was ‘horny’.”
Kate bit her lower lip uneasily; “ actually… it was going to be ‘broody’.” She could almost see the aggravation on Galen’s face at her response and she pulled him close again, her fingers curling tightly around the fabric of his shirt. “Oh come on…” she pouted sullenly, planting insistent kisses against his mouth. “Don’t you think it would be nice… if we started trying for a baby again…”
Galen sighed heavily; he was having a hard time focusing on anything apart from how much he wanted sex right now. His body felt hot and almost painful with desire and because of that he couldn’t help but feel more than a little annoyed. With another exasperated sigh he pushed Kate back, putting a stop to her persistent kisses. Galen quickly climbed from between her legs, groaning slightly as he zipped his pants back up.
“I can’t believe this,” he muttered irritably, “I… really can’t believe this!”
“Where are you going?” asked Kate, sitting up and holding her crumpled dress against her chest to stop it from falling. “I thought we were going to make love.”
“So did I!” exclaimed Galen, throwing his arms up in the air. “But how can I do anything with you talking babies at me all the damn time?!”
“Hey!” said Kate sharply, rising to her feet, still holding onto her dress to stop it from dropping to her ankles. “I just mentioned the one baby. Just ONE!” she said irritably, waggling her finger at her husband, “don’t start making it into plurals!”
“Baby, babies, what’s the difference? The point is that-“ Galen exhaled in frustration, “the point IS that you can’t just spring this whole subject on me now! This is totally unfair you do realise that?”
“Well…” Kate bit her lower lip again, sitting back down on the sofa with an awkward sigh. “Okay I realise that I should have probably said something before we got all…” she shook her head, “I don’t know I guess it just kind of popped into my head.”
Kate looked up at Galen and scowled, fixing her eyes on him determinedly, “but it’s not like I haven’t tried to talk to you before about this. You just always change the subject!”
“Only because you pick the absolute worst times to talk!” declared Galen defensively, it was true that Kate had tried to broach the subject a couple of times before but the fact of the matter was that if they HAD talked about it he’d only have upset her and that was the last thing he wanted. It just made more sense NOT to talk about it until he could give her the answer that she wanted to hear.
“Well, okay… okay!” said Kate, feeling her earlier indignation rising. “So YOU tell me now, when are the right times? Because I obviously can’t seem to find any!”
Galen ran his hands through his hair in exasperation before gesturing madly towards the sofa. “Well certainly not when we’re about to have sex!”
“OH! Excuse me for thinking about babies when we’re having sex!” exclaimed Kate with equal passion. “It’s not like the two activities are interrelated in the slightest! How stupid of me!”
Galen groaned in frustration, kneeling down on the floor in front of Kate. “How is it that you can make even the most ridiculous statement sound perfectly reasonable?”
Kate laughed dolefully as Galen took her hands gently in his own. “Sorry… I promise to work on that.” She shook her head tiredly; looking away for a moment before lifting her eyes up to meet her husband’s again.
“I don’t want to fight,” she said quietly, “I just… I think about it all the time, don’t you? How wonderful it would be to have a baby again, reading bedtime stories… building sandcastles on the beach… the little pitter patter of tiny feet…”
“The sleepless nights, the teething, the dirty diapers…”
“Oh come on,” objected Kate, squeezing Galen’s hands gently. “You loved it last time. You were the one who wanted to have another remember?”
Galen sighed, frowning awkwardly at the bright glow of happiness in Kate’s eyes as she waited expectantly for what he would say. “Things were very different back then, Kate,” he said, looking away when he found it too painful to keep looking into her eyes. “Everything’s… everything’s changed now.”
“I know,” Kate agreed, “but some things are still the same. You always knew I’d want another baby, it was just a matter of time, of waiting until it felt right again. I love you,” she said softly, stroking the palm of her hand against Galen’s cheek. “Part of that love is wanting to create this new life with you. I know you’re nervous about all this, but I’m ready now. I’m ready to go through it again. More than that I want to.”
Kate held on to her husband tightly, still cradling his cheek in her hand. “Galen, I don’t even know if I can get pregnant,” she confessed sadly, “after the miscarriage… I told you there were complications. So maybe I won’t be able to either way, but I need to know. You can understand that, can’t you?”
“Of course I understand,” said Galen wearily. He took Kate’s hand and kissed it gently. “Believe me I do, and I know how much you want this which is why I don’t want you getting your hopes up…” he sighed heavily, rising to his feet.
“This isn’t coming out how I meant… I just…” Galen sat down on the sofa next to Kate, looking her straight in the eyes. “You’re right. We should talk about this. Why don’t I make us some coffee, and we can do this properly?”
Baby Talk - Part Two
Wednesday, 4th July 2007 – 1:27am
Kate and Galen’s Home
Outside the window it was still dark, but inside the electric lights burned brightly, highlighting the silhouettes of the couple within. Kate and Galen sat opposite each other at the kitchen table, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. All trace of their earlier passion had evaporated leaving in its wake an uneasy silence that stretched on and on, the sound of the kitchen clock echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet room.
“I guess what I’m saying is… I’m not ready,” said Galen finally with a weary sigh, rubbing a hand against his forehead. There was no easy way of explaining how he felt inside.
He knew that Kate was so anxious to have another baby and though he wanted that too he couldn’t help but feel that things were moving too fast again. Their lives together had never been simple, not since the first moment they had met; sometimes it felt like being on a non-stop rollercoaster. It was a truly exhilarating ride but at the same time Galen couldn’t help but feel exhausted, they never seemed able to relax and just enjoy the moment without there being something or someone lurking in the background ready to threaten their happiness. Not that long ago they had come so close to losing each other that right now, more than anything he just wanted to spend some time with the woman he loved and for once not even think about the future.
“I don’t know how else to put it,” he said when the silence between them grew too painful to bear.” I’m just, I’m not ready to go through it all again.”
Kate could feel disconsolate tears beginning to build up in her eyes and so she quickly looked down into her lap, averting her gaze from her husband. She didn’t want to push him into something that he wasn’t ready for but she couldn’t help but feel disappointed, sometimes she wanted a baby so badly her heart physically ached. Kate held back her tears but even so her heavy black eyelashes were unable to mask the upset she so visibly felt at Galen’s declaration. She was quiet and a confused frown fluctuated across her forehead as she struggled to think of what to say.
“I… I don’t understand,” she said finally, her voice meek and bewildered. “Back in England…” Kate looked up at her husband, her eyes full of grievous accusation, “you said that we could try again some time, you said we would have another baby. H-have you changed your mind or-“
“-No,” said Galen quickly, shaking his head in determination. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
He reached out his hand across the table and took hold of Kate’s firmly, squeezing her fingers beneath his own. “Not at all, but… when I said those things to you in England, I never though that you’d want to try for another baby so soon.” Galen sighed wearily again, closing his eyes for a moment before returning his steady gaze to his wife.
“Maybe you don’t remember, how you were when you told me about the miscarriage? You were so afraid of getting pregnant again, you, you wouldn’t even let me touch you.”
“I wasn’t thinking straight, you know that!” objected Kate frustratedly, “I was a mess back then, I didn’t know what I was doing, or saying…” She returned her husband’s gaze, her expression softening somewhat as she looked into his warm brown eyes. She could feel the antagonism inside of him, how he didn’t want to hurt her and yet at the same time how strongly he felt on this matter. Gently, Kate curled her fingers around his hand.
“You helped me through all that,” she admitted softly, “and everything else too. I know we’ve had a hard time recently but I believe that we can be stronger than we were before because of it, I really do. I have always known how much I love you but when I thought that I’d lost you forever… it was unbearable, it brought out all these feelings, deeper feelings so… strong and intense. I thought I knew what it was to be in love before but I didn’t. I love you-“
“And I love you,” said Galen intently, his hold on her hand growing tighter. “I love you so much Kate, and I… I don’t want to lose you over this.”
Kate was silent for what felt like minutes rather than the few seconds that it actually was. A slow in-drawn breath seeming to last an age. Her eyes once again flickered up to connect with her husbands and she held his gaze firmly and assuredly.
“You’re not going to lose me, Galen,” she said quietly, her breath torturous and almost choking in her throat. “But this… this is something I want, a child. Our child. I thought you wanted it too.”
“I do,” Galen insisted firmly, “Kate I want to have children with you, and god knows I’m not getting any younger,” he added with a short morose laugh. He gazed at his wife, reaching forward with his free hand and brushing back her hair from her face, cradling her cheek in his hand as he had done a thousand times before.
“We are just getting our lives back on track,” he said eventually, his voice full of despondency. “Having a baby now would just throw all of that up in the air. I mean, you remember how you were with the hormones when you were carrying Emma, one minute you were fine and the next you were crying your eyes out because we’d run out of low fat yoghurt.”
Kate laughed half-heartedly, looking down at their hands joined across the table. “I remember.”
“Do you really think you’re ready, emotionally ready to go through all that again?” asked Galen, his fingers sliding down under her jaw while his thumb still stroked her cheek gently. “Because I really don’t think that I am. Call me selfish if you like, but I just want you all to myself… for a little while at least.”
Kate knew that what Galen said was true, she probably wasn’t ready to go through the stress and anxiety of a pregnancy, never mind coping with a newborn baby again. There were still too many days when she could barely get out of bed in the morning because of the unbearable sadness that seemed to flood her entire body. She tried to go on as though it didn’t matter because she had to, because if she didn’t she’d spend all her days crying at her daughter’s grave. If it weren’t for Galen, for his love and understanding helping her through she would never be able to cope. Sometimes it felt like he knew what she needed, what was best for her better than she did herself.
Reluctantly Kate nodded a silent agreement.
“Hey, I’m not saying never,” said Galen gently. He could tell that Kate was downhearted, for her it wasn’t just about having a baby it was knowing that she could. Losing Emma and then the miscarriage had put a lot of doubt into her mind, making her feel insecure as to whether she was somehow to blame. Another child, a healthy child would change all that, would make her feel less of a failure. Galen had tried to reassure Kate so many times but he could never take away the pain, as much as he would like to, of so much loss.
He stroked her cheek again with the edge of his thumb. “I just… I need some time.”
Kate’s sad eyes flickered upwards, a breath drawn sharply through her lips as her mouth opened to speak, forming the shape of that first word before hesitating. “H-how much time?” she said finally.
“I, I don’t know…” stammered Galen uneasily, thrown by Kate’s sudden question. “Until, until it feels right.”
“I don’t want to pressure you,” said Kate, her mouth crinkling with frustration. “I know you’re right about waiting, I-I do. But do you think you might be able to maybe stamp a date on this time issue? I just… I need something to aim for, something to work with. Then I’d be able to forget about it until then without… well without constantly worrying that you’ve forgotten or that, that maybe, maybe you’re ready and you just didn’t say something. C-could you? Do that?”
Galen sighed; he didn’t really want to have to put a date down for when he would feel better about all this, or when he thought he’d be ready. He just didn’t know. But he could understand how important this was for Kate, how she needed a time frame to work within so that she could stop thinking about it without fear of waking up one day several years down the line and realising that it had been casually swept aside.
“I really don’t know,” he said uneasily, hesitating slightly. “A few months perhaps?”
Kate nodded, a frown spreading across her forehead again as though deep in thought. “H- how about Christmas?” she asked suddenly. “That’s almost six months…” biting her lower lip, Kate turned her eyes up to meet her husband’s once again. “Does that seem reasonable?”
“Yes,” said Galen simply, feeling almost relieved. Six months seemed such a long time; he was surprised that Kate had suggested it. “More than reasonable.”
“I can wait until Christmas,” said Kate hollowly, nodding her head as though trying to convince herself her words were true. “But then, you have to promise me if you still feel the same way we’ll talk about it, we’ll find some way to make this work… for both of us.
Galen nodded solemnly, his hold on Kate’s hand tightening. “I promise.”
The two of them sat in silence a little while longer until Kate slowly rose to her feet with a worn out sigh.
“I’m so tired,” she announced, rubbing her eyes as she took their empty coffee cups to the sink. “It’s late, we should go to bed, we can talk about this again some other time.”
Galen was quiet for a moment but as Kate walked past him towards the door he took hold of her hand, rising to his feet and pulling her gently into his arms. He held her close, looking deeply into her slightly saddened eyes. Slowly he leaned towards her, his mouth pressing softly against Kate’s. Unlike their impassioned embrace earlier that night they kissed tenderly and leisurely conveying their mutual love and understanding within that one simple act.
Drawing back slightly, Galen sighed in contentment, combing his fingers through the soft red waves that framed Kate’s face. “Bed sounds like a good idea right now,” he said quietly, still holding her close. “But I think there’s something we really should do tonight before we go to sleep...”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
1st July 2007 8:08 pm
The Peninsula Beverly Hills Hotel
Los Angeles
The sun was just setting as Marcus returned to his hotel room. He’d spent a few hours this morning discussing his new plans with Onyx and clarifying a few things. The demon was even now beginning her tasks. The rest of the time Marcus had spent gathering the appropriate materials for tonights spell.
Entering his study Marcus closed the curtains leaving the room dark and gloomy before clearing the clutter from his desk. Having done that he selected a large-scale map of Los Angeles and it surrounding and spread it out on his desk. He weighed down the corners with candlesticks and then stepped back to light the candles.
All forms of power left echoes that a skilled practioner could read. Most occult energies were outside Marcus’ ability to detect with out more involved ritual elements but locating necromantic energies was simplicity itself.
Though previously Marcus had not been interested in his fellow practioners that was before he’d fixed on his plans. Necromancy was his one edge and he had decided to guard it jealously.
Taking out a jar of black sand Marcus poured out a handful before scattering it over the map as he did so he chanted soft repitive words in Latin. The sand coalesced here and there on the map. In the cemetaries in black clumps and dots but here and there were formed rings, like ripples in water.
Most were weak either amateurs or talented dabblers but a few some dozen or so were more powerful. They were the likely problems. Marcus noted the centres of the rings and then unbound the spell on the map. Brushing the sand away he folded the first map away and then took out another much smaller scaled one. And began again.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Wednesday, 4th July 2007 – 1:58pm
Peninsula Beverly Hills Hotel
Outwardly Tash kept a calm façade as she faced Marcus’ door, ready to begin their seventh and final session to discharge her obligations to him. She had no idea if Marcus knew that she’d learned of his indiscretion with Daye, and wasn’t sure what to do about it even if he did. Theirs was hardly the sort of relationship where they could sit down for a heart-to-heart chat. At least she didn’t have to face him much after this. Despite her vote to invite him, she was secretly relieved at his acceptance of merely ‘associate’ status with the White Hats. It meant that at least she wouldn’t be staring at him and Daye on their Thursday meetings and wondering…
Pushing aside her worries about her friend’s affair, Tash straightened her spine and knocked firmly upon Marcus’ door. She nodded coolly to him when he asked her inside, and took her customary seat at the table. For all her warnings to herself to behave normally, she was finding it hard to look Marcus in the eye today.
Marcus placed Tash’s customary cup of coffee on the table by her hand then sat down sipping his own drink. There was a frostiness in the air between them that he’d never encountered, not even after Tash had been cured of Hyde. More importantly he didn’t know what could have caused it, unless something had come up between her and Onyx. Though there was, of course, always the possibility the mess with Daye had spilled onto her. *Well, no matter,* Marcus thought. *That’s over with and after today we won’t meet unless there’s something earth shattering happening.*
“Well. Our last session,” Marcus said to break the silence. “They’ve been very useful to me, Tash. Thank you.” Marcus’ genuine comment did nothing to ease the tension in the air but he continued on anyway. “I thought we’d keep today to a few small things. Tidy up some details, that sort of thing…”
Tash offered a tight smile. “Sure.”
She forced herself to relax a little. The curiosity and worry coming from Marcus was tempered with ambiguity. He was thinking of Daye, she could sense that, but though the words that came to her were ‘that’s over with’, the strength of his feelings for Daye were undeniable.
“I just wish she’d taken more time to think about things,” Tash murmured into her coffee cup, thinking of the uncertainty Daye had been broadcasting recently.
It wasn’t Onyx then; the demon had the patience of a stone, a fact Marcus had discovered at about the age of three when he’d thrown his first and last tantrum. He had no desire, however, to discuss Daye with Tash.
“Ok then.” Marcus stood up and pulled a file down from a shelf. It contained rewritten copies of their notes from the previous sessions. He handed it to Tash. “We’ll skip the first few sessions. I know you aren’t comfortable with those.”
“Thanks.”
Taking the file Tash flipped to the middle. Soon all awkwardness vanished as the two dropped into their familiar rapport, and the bulk of the day passed quickly as they revisited some of the points that had given them trouble in earlier sessions. The golden glow of the late afternoon sun was glinting through the windows by the time Tash closed the folder before her and sat back with a sigh.
“Well, that seems to be that.” Genuine warmth filled Tash’s voice as she continued, “You know, I was worried about continuing these sessions, but they’ve been good for me. They’ve really helped me to accept all this in my head without letting it get to me so much. But,” Tash dropped her eyes and fiddled with the empty cup in front of her, “I know you’ll be disappointed, and consider it a terrible waste, but I won’t be using any of it ever again.”
“I know and it is a terrible waste but,” Marcus sighed, “I’m not in the habit of forcing women to do things they don’t want to.” Marcus stood up. “It’s been a pleasure working with you Tash and I’m sure we’ll meet again, though not I’m sure under such pleasant circumstances.”
“Well, I’ll still be visiting Onyx of course, so I may see you about. Other than that – yeah, I guess next time we work together will be if the White Hats find something big that needs dealing with.” Tash made a wry face. “Never much fun. Still, we do what we do because somebody has to.”
“I suppose.” Marcus didn’t really subscribe to that particular philosophy. He dealt with the White Hats for reasons of enlightened self interest. He wanted to live a long and happy life and if that meant saving the world occasionally fair enough, but as for the rest…
“And yes, I’m sure you and Onyx will come to my attention occasionally.”
Tash held out a hand. “Well, good luck with the new place. Onyx tells me it’s coming along – slowly but surely.”
"Well, as I said a pleasure and feel free to drop in if you ever change your mind." Marcus stood and clasped Tash's hand before walking her to his door. There was an awkward moment at the door before Marcus smiled. "Goodbye Tash."
“Goodbye.”
Closing the door behind her, Tash let out another long sigh. Marcus was not exactly what she would have termed a friend, but she knew she would miss their long talks. At least they’d connected on some level, and it had been a relief to have someone who didn’t want to use her as an emotional sounding board. There were definitely times she longed for the old days when it had been just her and Matthias, and she’d had no other friends. Nobody depending on her but herself.
Her gaze flickered down the corridor and settled on the door to Onyx’s suite. A slow smile of anticipation crept over Tash’s face. There was one other person she could relax around. She all but ran the few steps down the hallway and tapped on the door.
It opened to reveal Onyx’s graceful features and Tash grinned. “Hi gorgeous. Marcus and I are done for the day. I’m all yours.”
Onyx smiled and wrapped her arms around Tash before giving her a long lingering kiss. The kiss finished but Onyx’s arms kept Tash pressed firmly against her and she nuzzled Tash’s neck. “That’s good,” the demon’s hand slipped under Tash’s clothes, “because I’ve been waiting for you all afternoon.”
Onyx pulled Tash into the room and kicked the door shut behind them. With kisses interspersed with soft laughs and lingering touches they managed to make it to the bedroom mostly divested of clothing before Onyx took her time showing Tash just how much she missed her.
Afterward they lay curled around one another, replete from their lovemaking and utterly relaxed. Onyx continued to trail her hands softly over Tash’s body while she spoke. “So that’s the last of it. No more necromancy?”
“That’s right. Marcus thinks it’s a shame, but now that I’ve finished paying my debt I don’t intend to dig it up ever again.” Tash snuggled closer to Onyx, enjoying the feel of the demon’s hands on her skin. “But at least the old bitch is a bit quieter in there now. I have him to thank for that, at least.”
A nibbled ear had Tash leaning into Onyx before the demon broke off her ministrations and whispered softly, “If it bothers you that much there are things I can do to help.”
Lulled by the loving caresses she was receiving Tash merely replied, “Uh huh.” She bent her head to nuzzle Onyx’s throat before she paused, blinked, and pulled her head back to frown slightly at her lover.
“What things?”
Onyx smoothed a finger over the frown lines on Tash’s forehead. Tash was just about ready. She was utterly in love with Onyx and quite willing to listen to whatever she had to say. Not that this would necessarily be easy, but the level of trust that had built up since they’d become lovers made this possible.
“Remember how Daye had that watchdog when she went back to the Watchers? He was around for Daye’s cure but didn’t remember a thing.”
Tash nodded slowly for a moment before the light of comprehension dawned on her face. “That was you?”
“Yeah. My particular species of demon can manipulate memory biologically. It’s not like the normal memory spells that suppress things, or overlay false memories. We can amend the neurons that actually encode the data.”
For half an instant Tash felt a jolt of suspicion run through her as she realised what was she was being offered. But this was Onyx. It was ridiculous to think that Onyx would mean her harm. No, it was just as she said – she wanted to help. *After all, if she wanted to tamper with my memories, she could have done it without me knowing.*
Having mollified herself, Tash sat up, gathering the sheets into her lap as she faced her lover. As though they had a mind of their own, her nipples hardened at the proximity they now bore to Onyx’s warm lips, but Tash ignored the flutter of arousal. There were more important things to think about.
“So what, you can simply remove the memories Ohenewaa gave me? Is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s the simplest option but not necessarily the safest. Those memories are a part of you – you’ve referenced them quite often recently and that’s changed things. Just ripping them out and leaving holes in your memory could be as dangerous as suppressing them.”
Onyx moved round behind Tash before pulling her gently backwards to rest against her torso. Onyx’s hands wandered over Tash’s upper body though they avoided anything too distracting. “There’re other things I could do though, like editing out Ohenewaa’s emotions from those memories. It’d leave it as just dry information. You wouldn’t feel anything other than what you’d feel about it.”
Tash blinked. “Wow. You could… Wow.” She twisted in Onyx’s embrace, turning to look over her shoulder at the demon. “But you’ve known for a long time how I felt about this. Why only bring this solution up now? Were you worried that it might affect how well I could repay Marcus?”
*Carefully now.* “It was a concern I’ll admit, but this is mind magic. Psychic surgery on the most delicate part of what makes you, you.” Onyx paused artfully. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”
Shivering slightly, Tash hugged her arms about herself, enfolding Onyx’s arms into a tighter embrace. “I don’t know. It sounds like it could get nasty if it goes wrong. As you say, a lot of those memories are intertwined with me now – how can I be sure it won’t fuck up? For all that it’s a pain sometimes, not having my psychic talents for a few weeks really made me appreciate how much I rely on them these days. I’d hate to lose them for good. Or anything else, for that matter.”
“Well there is some risk.”
Though not a great deal. Onyx had no intention of risking damaging any of the knowledge Tash had stored in her brain. It was a priceless resource and one that would finally allow Onyx to complete her purpose on Earth. The Tashendre were virtually extinct, with the scattered remnants here and there having no ability to breed. That had been lost when the Hive mothers had been killed in their home dimension. Onyx could rectify that if she had the mystical key to her own genome but that had also been lost.
Five hundred years of planning and manipulation had finally given her access to a necromancer with the sheer power and innate ability to reach across the dimensions to a Hive Mother and force its spirit to give up its secrets but neither Marcus or Onyx knew how. Then Tash had dropped into Onyx’s lap like a ripe plum, a plum with the accumulated knowledge of a necromancer as old as Onyx. No, Onyx was going to take no unnecessary risks with Tash’s brain.
“There are precautions we can take. At worst there’d be dislocations. Things you’re sure you should remember but can’t. Even those should be minor. If we remove the knowledge entirely it’s more difficult but even then they are steps we can take.”
It sounded risky to Tash, but she trusted Onyx so implicitly that she couldn’t help but discount the dangers to her memory and her sanity. Onyx would do whatever it took to make sure she came out of it all right. All that remained was for her to decide whether she really wanted to be free of the experiences Ohenewaa had bequeathed her.
“I don’t know… darling, I trust you to take good care of me, but what if something goes wrong? I… Victor’s memories are wrapped up in there, too. When he and I merged… That was how I first got Ohenewaa under any sort of control at all. I’d hate to lose him. I’m sorry, it mustn’t be fun for you to hear me go on about him but he was a big part of my life, Onyx.”
Tash twisted in Onyx’s arms, turning to face her fully and pressed herself against the warmth of her body in a desperate embrace. “I don’t know what I’m more afraid of – having to live with Ohenewaa’s memories all my life, or risking losing the only part of Victor I have left.”
“I don’t mind hearing about him. I understand he’s a part of who you are and I wouldn’t want to change that, but I can do this for you. I can take away Ohenewaa for you. Even take away the necromancy if that’s what you want. A day or so and it’ll be gone. No more temptation to use it. No more unwanted feelings in your mind that aren’t you. It’ll all be gone.”
It sounded like utopia. Tash barely hesitated before she answered.
“Do it, my love.”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
*** Tuesday July 3rd, 2007 – 11:13am ***
Marc Freiburg sipped another cup of coffee as he watched James Anderson make an ass of himself. He nodded appreciatively at how James had tied in the Greek Orthodox Church to a Russian Mafia conspiracy in LA by linking them to the Knights Templar.
He smiled appreciatively as Gene asked James about the Freemasons. That was a subject guaranteed to keep James talking for another half hour at least. He was waiting to ask James about the demon who worked at the Denny's and how she related to the archangel that was the brother of the manager for Hanson and how that was the lynchpin of the gardener who had murdered all those people at Christmas.
He liked that story. That and it was guaranteed to keep James ranting for three hours at least.
He, Gene, Bill, and Jimmy (not James...James was the crazy one) were being paid by some guy name Dorsey - a television producer who was paying them by the hour to keep James spinning his theories. Some show about crackpots, was Marc's theory.
They'd been doing this for a month and Marc was in no hurry to stop. Work was work in LA and you didn't turn down a steady-paying acting job when the alternative was valet parking or worse - reality TV. Okay this was reality TV but he wasn't the actor he was part of the setup. At least he thought he was.
The terrifying thought that he might be the one getting set up crossed his mind. Some sort of double-cross show. But then why was he getting paid? It didn't add up. So he tapped on the computer console in the FBI field office set and swiveled back in his chair to face James.
"So where does the demon who works in Denny's fit into all this?" he asked on cue.
James stopped mid-rant. “She’s the outsider. She’s the friend of the archangel Brinkley. Brinkley is the one, you will remember, whose brother Ra is the manager for Hanson. They know Ozimandius DeAngelo from when he was an angel. She is the one who was there with him at the Church when he killed all those people on Christmas Eve.”
James then turned to face the white board and erased his elaborate drawings. He pulled out his photographs of Hanson, the cute dark haired girl and the waitress and taped them up. Jimmy remarked at the photo of Oz, “Why is he wearing a suit? Is that a new picture?”
James barely paused for breath, “That was taken at the wedding of the pagan woman Amanda Blaise. She had half of the Foundation Organization there. The foundation is a private supernatural security firm, I believe, that deal with otherworldly threats. Ozimandius has somehow managed to compromise their infrastructure and eliminated one of their key members.”
*This is new,* thought Marc.
James detailed the inner workings of a group of mystical superheroes who had come to LA in order to combat the forces of evil. They were led by a disguise-wearing demon who was fantastically wealthy and lived in an antique building in Alhambra. He went on to describe how these same superheroes were connected to a super-secret government agency that was trained to combat mystical and magical threats like vampires and demons.
Marc entertained that thought that Dorsey had hired all of them to feed James straight lines so he would spin these wild tales from his dementia so that Dorsey could sell the plotlines to movie producers. *That would be a real conspiracy,* Marc thought.
James showed them pictures of a burnt wreck of a car with a circle of rocks in a parking lot and told them of the weird portal that had swallowed several members of the group. He showed them pictures of a grafitti sprayed wall ant told them of the extra-dimensional being that had sent duplicates of Dennis Rodman and his police partner’s wife. He showed them a skateboarding girl in a mall with Britney Spears and told them how she was the one girl in all the world selected to kill vampires, and that Britney Spears was actually a vampire.
And Mark nodded, “This is bigger than we thought. Our team is lucky to have a man of your insight James. Without you we would have never put all of this together.”
*This is so crazy we couldn’t have put this together by polling all of the disenfranchised crack-heads in LA,* he was thinking as he said it.
“Our team will investigate these leads. Feel free to leave any material we need to understand it with me and we will get right on it. Thanks again, James.”
James Anderson beamed. He was appreciated and he was doing good work. He had been busy taking photos and running down leads for weeks to get all of this information. And it was rock-solid. Bulletproof. He was the hero and all of these imposters –Natasha Brookes, Amanda Blaise, Kate and Galen Eldridge, Alessa Hunt, and most of all Ozimandius DeAngelo - were going to go down. He would send them straight to Hell.
Across town in a Denny’s Restaurant, Brinkley had an uneasy feeling. She watched as the tea leaves in her cup spelled out the initials J-A. She knew it was a sign and not a fluke because she had ordered coffee and not tea.
“Shit,” she said to no-one in particular, “I just bet Oz is going to be involved in this too.”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Wednesday, 4th July 2007 - 10pm
The Peninsula Beverly Hills Hotel
To the outside observer nothing much was going on inside the suite registered to Miss Keira Black. Two women sat facing each other, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Both appeared to be in some sort of trance, breathing slowly in unison but making no other move.
Inwardly, everything was turmoil.
Tash could feel the invasion of Onyx’s power, could feel it sifting through the deepest recesses of her mind, could feel it searching for the memories Ohenewaa had bequeathed. But the demon’s touch was gentle, and after the first few panicked moments Tash was able to relax enough to let Onyx concentrate on digging out only what related to the vodoun queen. The shield Onyx had erected around Tash’s mind protected it, but also kept much of what she did hidden. It was only the bond of trust they shared that enabled Tash to let it continue.
Then the visions began. The threads that leaked from behind Onyx’s shield battered at both their psyches, and soon Tash was very glad the barrier was there.
The taste of blood was coppery on her tongue as she slowly and deliberately licked the knife-blade clean. Her eyes fell to the sorry creature on the altar beneath her and a cruel smile twisted her aging face. The screams of her victim rent the air as the knife lowered slowly once more to peel yet another strip of skin from the young girl’s body. Most of her skin was already gone, her torso little more than a patchwork of glistening muscle and sinew. Ohenewaa’s smile deepened as she piled up the material for her newest cloak…
Then the memory was gone, and even as the vision faded, so too did Tash’s understanding of exactly how Ohenewaa had imbued the human skin with the magic necessary to turn that cloak of hers into a formidable artefact. She remembered that the cloak was special, for more than its macabre materials, but not how or why.
The heavily pregnant woman lay before her, fearful eyes gazing upwards. She grinned down at the woman. The drums sounded in the background, providing an insistent rhythm to the proceedings. They mingled nicely with the screams that issued as the woman began to give birth.
With her legs strapped tightly together, there was nowhere for the baby to go. Ohenewaa watched with ever-increasing excitement as the woman writhed, screamed and struggled with this impossible birth. This would be the first. The girl-child about to be born would be raised by her to be the perfect vessel. The girl would be nurtured and protected, and once she turned sixteen she would feed Ohenewaa’s life essence, renewing her youth and vigour.
The mother’s exertions gradually weakened as the hours passed. Blood streamed from between her legs and finally she was still. Sensing the life leave the woman’s body, Ohenewaa swooped down and sliced deep into her abdomen. Soon she held aloft the weak, but living baby. The child, covered in gore, opened her mouth and uttered her first cry…
The only movement in the quiet hotel room was Tash’s involuntary twitch as she relived holding that warm, wet, squalling infant in her arms even as the mother’s blood cooled and caked on her fingers. But Onyx shepherded the memory away with all the others and soon it had faded, the last wisps disappearing like early morning fog on a sunny day.
Six centuries of remembrances took time to remove and Onyx remained locked in trance with Tash for hours. Each memory, each thread of knowledge was carefully drawn out of Tash’s mind and shorn of its unpleasant associations and carefully stored away. Inside Tash’s mind it was easy to see why Tash had such a distaste for the knowledge she had acquired. The sheer depth of horror associated with Ohenewaa’s memories was completely at odds with Tash’s own personality. Even with the intervention of Vicasha they still pressed at her mind, all but forcing it into unnatural pathways.
That was gone now; instead there was a hole in Tash’s mind where once the Necromancer Ohenewaa existed. Onyx kept her mounting excitement well controlled despite realising just how vast the treasure trove was that Tash had concealed. Carefully Onyx checked Tash’s remaining memories, following the twisted paths trying to find where they intersected what Onyx had taken.
In those spaces Onyx left carefully crafted artificial memories – falsehoods that allowed Tash to remember that she once had known vile secrets but they had been removed – even though Onyx knew she could leave the void completely unfilled. She returned to the memories she had taken and sifted from them Ohenewaa’s knowledge of Tash’s psychic gifts. With exacting care she removed all trace of Ohenewaa’s emotions or personality, leaving behind the bare knowledge absent any reference as to how it had been gained.
Onyx scattered the fragments of that knowledge through Tash’s mind and memory. They would grow like seeds in fertile soil and someday in the future Tash would understand her powers so much better. It was a small payment for what Onyx had done but it was, she acknowledged, something at least. Then, taking her stolen hoard with her Onyx began the delicate operation of removing herself from Tash.
Slowly and painfully, Tash lifted her head. The muscles in her back protested at the long hours she’d stayed in one position, and she spent several minutes just stretching and straightening out her legs before she even considered rising from the floor. She looked up at Onyx, wonder shining in her eyes. She remembered asking Onyx to remove something terrible, and she remembered that it was the dark secrets of the repulsive old woman who had captured her two years ago… what was her name again? Oh yes – Ohenewaa. She even remembered using those secrets while she’d been infected with Delancre’s disease. But for the life of her she couldn’t dredge up a single ritual, or whatever horror had accompanied it.
“Onyx, it’s… oh, they’re gone.” Tears of relief stung Tash’s eyes and she blinked them back. “Onyx, I can’t believe it… I feel…” Tash had to stop and think for a moment about that one. She still remembered how she’d felt before – all her own experiences seemed to be intact. It was only what Ohenewaa had implanted that was gone. With it had gone a certain feeling of darkness that had lingered at her core, no matter how she tried to suppress it.
Ignoring her stiff, protesting muscles, Tash leaned forward and wrapped Onyx in a fierce hug. “I feel lighter. So much lighter. Thank you, Onyx.”
Onyx returned the hug with interest and whispered, “You’re welcome, baby. You’re welcome.” Onyx’s hands slipped along Tash’s aching muscles. “Is everything ok?” Onyx’s concern was quite real. If she had been willing to harm Tash’s mind there would have been no need for her deception. “No blanks spots where there shouldn’t be?”
“Well, it’s kinda hard to tell. I mean, how do I know if there’s something I should remember but can’t? But no, I think it’s all okay. I remember what happened that night, even that the old witch touched me… and I know I had all her memories, everything. But it’s like when you wake up from a long dream, and after a few minutes you can’t think what it was about. I don’t seem to have any ‘missing time’ or anything.”
Tash grinned at her lover, kissing Onyx lightly. “You’re a marvel, my love. I hate to think how tired you must be.”
Onyx suppressed a yawn and smiled sheepishly at Tash. Such mannerisms were a rare occurrence for Onyx but apparently her body had decided a physiological reminder was in order. “It must have taken a lot out of you too.” The demon looked to the windows where dawn was leaking around the curtains in the room. Standing up she offered a hand to Tash. “I think we both could use some real sleep.”
Soon the two lay curled up together, carelessly tumbled in the large, soft bed. The morning light grew around them, but they both slumbered peacefully in each other’s arms. Tash’s dreams were far less fraught than they had been of late, and Onyx… well, Onyx slept the restful sleep of someone who finally had a long-dreamt of goal in sight.
the honeymoon-part 1
*** Monday, July 2, 2007 ***
Daye stretched languorously before opening her eyes. She felt rested and more relaxed than she had in ages. Maybe everything would be alright after all. She’d managed to not think about Marcus at all yesterday, but she’d been pretty distracted by her husband, and she’d been determined to focus on him. They’d arrived in Tahiti late yesterday morning, and so far the only sight they’d seen was the inside of the very plush bungalow Drew had rented on the beach. Daye smiled softly. Her husband was obviously trying to make up for weeks of lost time in one day.
“Now there’s a beautiful sight,” Drew’s voice intruded on her early morning thoughts.
Daye opened her eyes and sat up on her elbows. Drew stood beside the bed, balancing a tray in his hands. His dark hair lay in damp curls around his face and he wore her favorite boyish grin. Daye felt a warm glow that was very reminiscent of her old feelings for him and she was so relieved. If she could just keep herself focused, there was every chance this would work out fine.
“What is?” Daye asked in response to his statement.
“You,” Drew’s voice dropped and his eyes filled with tenderness. He set the tray down on the nightstand and settled himself beside her on the bed. With one hand he reached out to gently stroke the side of her face. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Amanda. I love you.”
Drew followed his simple declaration with a not so simple kiss that left Daye’s nerve endings humming. “Hmmm,” she sighed against his mouth. “And you’re the most amazing man.”
“Who’s brought you breakfast in bed,” Drew added, gesturing towards the tray of food.
“Already proving to be a well trained husband, I see,” Daye teased, sliding up in bed. “What time did you get up? Did you sleep at all?”
Drew shrugged. “I dunno…not much. I felt…invigorated this morning. I got up early, went down to that store on the corner and picked up a few things for breakfast, took a quick shower and then cooked. I just feel…good.”
Daye smiled. “Okay,” she reached for a piece of toast off the tray and began to nibble on it. “So…what are we going to do today?”
“I thought we might actually do a little exploring, see if we can’t find that lagoon you were so fond of the last time we were here,” Drew replied. “If you want to, that is.”
“Uhm…and my other option would be?”
“Well…” Drew leaned over on the bed and kissed her gently before pulling back. “We could always continue on with what we were doing yesterday, and last night, and well into this morning.”
Daye laughed. “That’s what I thought you’d say. I think, as we’re in Tahiti, we might actually want to get out of this bungalow and see some of the island. So…let’s go hiking. As soon as I finish breakfast, I’ll hop in the shower and then we can leave.”
“Okay, great,” Drew replied. “I grabbed an LA Times at the store, so I think I’ll go sit on the veranda while you eat and get ready and just read through that, okay?”
Daye nodded and with one last quick kiss, Drew left her alone with her breakfast and her thoughts. Once Drew was gone, Daye let her mind wander. It was the first time she’d really been alone in the last couple of days. She wasn’t surprised, when she’d finally given her mind a bit of leeway that it wandered straight to Marcus and the things that had occurred just before the wedding. A part of her ached constantly for him, for his companionship and his understanding and for the way she felt when she was with him. As much as she knew in her head that it was wrong, her heart still longed for Marcus and she hurt so much.
Giving up on breakfast now that her appetite was suddenly gone, Daye set the tray aside and slipped out of bed. She headed for the opulent bathroom and stripped off her rumpled nightgown. The ivory silk and lace concoction had been quite inspiring to her husband the night before, but Daye felt a twinge of guilt as she held it between her fingers. When she’d bought the thing, she’d been thinking about Marcus, and not Drew. She’d been thinking about Marcus far too much for far too long. That’s how she’d ended up in this mess.
Carefully folding the lingerie up and setting it on the counter, she turned on the water and adjusted the temperature before stepping into the stall and ducking under the pounding water. As the warmth washed over her, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes. In the steamy room, her imagination conjured images of Marcus she’d made herself avoid the last two days. For just a moment, for her sanity, she indulged. She imagined that things had gone differently and that it was Marcus sharing this luxurious vacation with her. She let herself pretend. Marcus would sneak into the steam filled bathroom and catch her in the shower and he would take full advantage of the situation. As she stood in the streaming heat, Daye let her own hands play across her body and pretended just for a moment that there was someone else, someone she would never have. Before long, Daye felt tears gathering and in that small room, alone, she just broke down.
Daye stood under the flowing water and let her tears mix with it as she cried for so many things. She cried for herself and the mistakes she’d made. She cried for Drew and the pain she’d brought him. She cried for the past and the present and the future, but most of all she cried for Marcus. He had turned away from her and her love, rejected them with a cold, callous disregard, and she knew that at least on some level it was about more than the fact that he didn’t love her in return. Daye cried because he couldn’t love her, and that was the saddest thing of all.
the honeymoon-part 2
*** Thursday, July 5, 2007 ***
Daye bent over, laughing uncontrollably, as Drew wrestled with the beach umbrella they’d brought down to the shore. Every time he thought he had it, the thing would snap close, with him narrowly escaping injury. Drew’s face was a mask of frustrated determination. “It’s not that funny,” he said without turning to look at her. “This damn thing is defective, I tell you.”
“Sure it is,” Daye agreed in a patronizing tone. “I’m sure no one could ever manage to get it assembled.”
Drew turned and glared at her. “It could be broken. You don’t know.”
Daye set down the bag on top of the drinks cooler they’d brought and moved forward. “Let me just have a look at it, okay?”
“Suit yourself, but it’s not going to work. It’s a factory defect, I tell you,” Drew replied, hands thrown up in surrender.
Daye brushed past Drew and bent over the umbrella for a couple of minutes, studying it. Finally, she stood and placed the pole in the ground. She turned her head and glanced at Drew to make sure that he was watching and then reached out with her free hand and turned a knob. The umbrella easily opened and she thrust it down into the sand.
“Uhm…or I’m an idiot,” Drew said softly. “That might be it. It just might be possible you’ve married an inept, clumsy ass, Baby.”
“I don’t care,” Daye replied, coming around to grab the stuff she’d set down. “I didn’t marry Mr. Goodwrench for a reason. So…don’t sweat it, Drew.”
Daye stretched up and pressed her mouth to his for a moment. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”
Drew grinned foolishly as he helped Amanda finish setting up their spot on the nearly empty beach. They’d gotten up early just so they’d have a little time before the hoards of tourists showed up. Amanda wanted to relax and watch the waves in peace for a little while. Drew just wanted to do whatever made her happiest. Despite how hard things had been before the wedding, this honeymoon was turning out just right. Occasionally, perhaps there was a shadow of sadness in Amanda’s eyes or the slightest melancholy in her smile, but for the most part things had been just about perfect. Drew couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He’d been afraid that he’d waited too long before the wedding to open up to her, but now, finally, they seemed to be back on track.
Daye settled on the blanket they’d brought and slipped her sunglasses on. She grabbed a bottle of lotion and waited for Drew to sit down beside her. He was in a great mood, and frankly, she was feeling really good too. It seemed to get a little bit easier every day to ignore the heartache she was feeling and embrace all the good things in her life. She could control her thoughts and keep concerns about Marcus at bay. Daye wondered how much harder that would be when she got home, but in the end it didn’t matter. If she could do that long enough, then maybe pretty soon she’d begin to forget about him. Maybe then she’d really start to be happy about the good things in her life.
Drew sat down and took the lotion from Amanda. He began to smooth it over her bare skin. Amanda lay down on her stomach and closed her eyes. Drew leaned in, listening for her little sounds of pleasure as he slowly applied sun lotion to her.
Daye let her eyes drift closed and focused on the simple pleasure of Drew’s hands soothing over her skin as the sun warmed them both and all her tension melted into the sand below. She listened to the waves softly rolling to shore and the gentle murmur of the other tourists as the beach filled. Daye sunk into that deeply relaxed place somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, and she indulged in another daydream starring her favorite fantasy lover.
Daye lay on a soft bed before a bank of windows, with the warm afternoon sun playing over her body. Marcus knelt beside her, his hands playing across her bare skin. His long, lean fingers worked their magic and Daye could feel the heat and longing begin a slow burn, every nerve ending sensitive to his tender touch. Tiny murmurs of appreciation slipped from her as she burrowed deeper into the softness below and arched slightly against the hands moving so gently over her body. A small smile curled her lips and Daye willed Marcus to bend and capture that smile with his mouth. When he finally stooped for a kiss, Daye’s eyelids fluttered open and she hummed with pleasure as she looked into his warm blue eyes…
Daye blinked, realizing that she must have been dozing off as Drew rubbed the sun lotion into her skin. She felt guilt bubble up deep within as she recalled the lover her subconscious had conjured up while her guard was down. It was still too soon, still too raw, and so, whenever she wasn’t being extra careful, the necromancer snaked his way into her mind and brought confusion and pain with him. Daye was determined, though. She would erase all thoughts of the man from her mind, on all levels. It would just take some time.
“Close your eyes, Baby,” Drew urged, dropping a soft kiss on her bare shoulder. His hands moved down her shoulders and over the strings of her blue bikini. She brought her thoughts away from Marcus and concentrated fully on the frisson of awareness the heat of Drew’s mouth created in her nerve endings. Relaxing, Daye closed her eyes and lay back down, making sure not to let her mind wander. The trick to the thing was to remain vigilant, and Daye knew she could manage that. She was doing just fine.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
The Temple
Unknown Date
Evening
Re-introducing Rutger Hauer as Vard-Lokkur
Things soon became apparent to the two, Nikolai and Vard-Lokkur, as they began to speak. One of them was that they had both been spoken to by different clairvoyants, and soon became convinced that for whatever reason, they were supposed to meet. It was strange, in way. “I blame Alina Ruya,” Vard-Lokkur finally said. “She doesn’t look anything like the Seer you have here, but she was still just as vague.”
Nikolai nodded. He could imagine that this must be the paradox of any clairvoyant: how much to tell. Then again, there was a paradox: if a clairvoyant could see the future, and told someone that, didn’t that change the future potentially? Or does the vision take into account any telling? “That sounds about right. I don’t pretend to understand half of what they say here, but still…”
Vard-Lokkur laughed. “The problem is resolving the paradoxes, always. I don’t have much experience with the Temple here, just that we share a similar philosophy, though they couch it in paradoxes. Have they tried explaining the Crossroads to you yet?” Nikolai shook his head no, and Vard-Lokkur continued. “As I understand it, there is no time in here. You can stay here a moment and leave centuries after you arrived, or stay centuries and leave a moment after you left; but at the same time, time outside compares to time inside at a fixed rate.”
Nikolai was curious, and could tell that the other was being serious with him. That really was all he understood of the way that the Crossroads worked, but if that were true… had he really spent a month here? Had it been longer, or shorter? There wasn’t much to go by. At least his watch still worked, and the little calendar in it showed a month passing, but if time had no meaning here, what was that worth? “How can that be possible?”
“That is a very long, very complicated lecture one of the philosophers here will probably give you,” said Vard-Lokkur. He looked at the man called Nikolai, and wondered exactly why Alina Ruya had said to go and meet him, that Nikolai was one who would help him with the rest of what needed to be done. There were several more who Valdis needed to restore to health. Was Nikolai to aide in this task? *Damn her for her guidance, always a prophetic riddle wrapped in an enigma.*
“Well,” Nikolai said, moving to stand up, inhaling deeply the scent of the garden. “If there is a reason, I’m sure it will all become clear in time. Or eventually, if time doesn’t have meaning here. “What is your association with this place?”
“I stumbled across it in 1871,” Vard-Lokkur replied steadily. “I stayed here for a while, learning what I could, before the Seer you described told me I should return. It was understood that my place was not here, but out in the world, despite our similar ideas.”
Nikolai nodded. He was getting better at reading emotions, and while he knew that Vard-Lokkur had the sense of someone who wasn’t entirely forthcoming, he was honest at least. “I came here about a month ago, to try to put my life back together,” Nikolai confessed. “To try to find myself.”
“Really?” Vard-Lokkur was intruiged. This was a rather common reason that people came there; often departing from the Crossroads back into the time from whence they left. “And what have you found so far?”
Nikolai thought for a moment, unsure exactly of how to answer that question. “A path out of the woods.”
“Whatever you’re doing, it must be working; you’re sounding like one of them already.”
“If that is so, it is because I still have to find where the path leads me,” he continued. “I can fight, and am learning to do that better; but what am I to use it for?”
Vard-Lokkur at last stood, studying Nikolai even more carefully. Perhaps this is why he was sent here. Alina Ruya had said that he would one day have to guide someone of the right mindset. But this Russian, this half-Xangyarj? Very thoughtfully, he looked over the Russian. Yes, he was emphatically in need of guidance.
“In all my time,” he began steadily, slowly, “I have seen abilities wielded for all sorts of purposes. Some for good or evil, some for their eternal fame, others fight for a nation or person they love, and still more fight for nothing more than money. All of them fight, at the base, for the same thing: something they value.”
Nikolai raised an eyebrow. People at the Temple, he was told, generally attached to one or two instructors there as a kind of apprenticeship. He’d yet to find someone, but with the way that Vard-Lokkur spoke, and the words of the Seer before, this may have been her reason. All that was left was to wonder why. Still, despite this, the words made sense. More than he cared to admit. “And what do you value, Vard-Lokkur?”
“Balance,” he replied without hesitation. “Particularly, between good and evil. Both of them are necessary to the world. At times I’ve fought for both evil and good, sometimes actually on its side, other times to undermine them, but always with the balance of the forces as my goal.”
Nikolai nodded at the answer. He was now able to sympathise more, being something of a synthesis. A man who once fought for money, then for good, and now… for what? If there were a cause he would give his life for, what would it be? *I have to decide what I care about* he realised. *What I value. Was that the learning, or is there something more?*
“In any event,” Vard-Lokkur continued, “I am now a bit… tired. I would like to speak with you some more, but must rest for now.”
“Of course,” Nikolai replied, before the two went their separate ways, and leaving him with more questions than he had answers for.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Wednesday, 4th July 2007 - 8:30 pm
Los Angeles Docks
The twilight glow still hovered in the sky, defying the night and refusing to fall behind the horizon. This was Benji's favorite time to hunt. He didn't have to hunt all that often, but when he did he preferred to do it here: Los Angeles' Piers 6 thru 9. Today wasn't the best day to hunt, however--he had company. Benji had encountered the two newly-made vampires, a male and a female, still covered in burial soil and fleeing the cemetery. They insisted on tagging along and now they'd get to see a slightly older vampire at work. It was a novel idea, Benji realized. It'd been a while since he had constant company. And anyway, he was secretly flattered by their study of his methods.
"So...you come here often?" the young female vamp asked him, taking in the dock scenery eagerly.
Benji spoke in a careful tone, clearly conscious of any potential prey. "I come here when I need a quick bite," he replied, then was abruptly silent. "I don't come here often, though."
"Suh-weet location!" the male vampire mused. "So, what kinda snacks you get 'round these parts? Sailors?" He began to chuckle.
"Mmm. Sailors," the girl vampire moaned, grinning.
Benji shook his head and sniffed the air. "Sailors? Not too often," he told them. "I often have a dock worker, now and then. Or some dealers--they hang around to peddle their goods at the seaside."
The younger vamps shrugged and followed Benji to a darkened corner of Pier 7. His head was tilted in contemplation, listening to the approaching footsteps of crate-handlers. "Two ahead," he whispered. "Take one if you want.?
The male vamp whined. "Just one--C'mon, now! Man cannot live by single portions alone?"
His female companion clapped a hand over his mouth. Turning to Benji, she nodded. "We wanna watch you do it," she confided. "I mean, we're so new. It's like, Poof! 'Suddenly Soulless'. We want to watch a man with some experience go first..." The flirtatious look in her eyes was glaringly obvious, and her male friend rolled his eyes.
"I'm not exactly an old hand at this," Benji tried to explain casually. "There are plenty of other vampires out there who'd be much better teachers than me." However, the buxom vampire was making a puppy-dog face, and he'd feel uncomfortable if she stayed that way all night. There--the second dock worker had left to bring around the forklift. With a hand raised to his lips Benji motioned for the two newborns to stay behind him and observe as he caught dinner.
The thick-bodied dock hand tended to his clipboard, marking off inventory items as Benji walked up impassively. He turned his head slowly, and his eyes widened when he saw that a Chinese teen aged boy was standing right next to him. "What? You shouldn't be here, kid! We've got work to do!" He took a few steps away.
"You see, guys," Benji called to his students lurking just beyond the lamp-light, "You do it like this." Without hesitation Benji transformed his face to his more monstrous visage and bared his fangs proudly. He thrust his mouth at the laborer's throat and bit in. He only sipped a little of the blood, then threw the whimpering worker to the wooden-planked floor. In between gasps Benji summoned the other two forth. "...'Kay. He's all yours, kids."
"C'mon, man, you hardly had any," the female companion said. "At least have a little more?"
"Nope," Benji assured them. "I'm done, thanks."
"So...that's it?" The new male vampire looked puzzled. "It seemed...too easy. Are they all like that?"
"No," Benji smirked. "Some will put up a fight, give chase." He kicked the dock hand idly. "I don't like a chase. Now you'd better eat up--he looks like he's bleeding out, and they really are better when tasted live, y'know. Just my opinion."
The boy and girl fiends bent down over the body and whispered to each other. "We really hooked up with a winner, Julia. What kind of vampire won't freakin' feast? Is he some kinda prude?"
Julia scoffed. "I like that about him, Walt. We could learn a thing or two from him, you know. And besides, there are worse ways to spend an eternity..."
Benji wasn't far while they feasted on the dock hand, and he heard the sound of a forklift nearing. He snapped his fingers agitatedly. "In the water when you're done," he instructed, pointing at the now very dead dock worker. He hoped they wouldn't start feeding here too often or else these piers would surely be shut down. But he supposed that they would if it was necessary to survive. And would these two clueless creatures of the night could have the forklift driver for dessert. He wouldn't help them, but he understood if they needed it. The hunger is always strongest early on, he remembered. After all, it was just survival.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Saturday, June 30, 2007
4:00 pm
Memorial Beach
"So."
Alessa studied her sandals. They were a striking creation of handmade little crystal beads and bronzed leather strips that wrapped charmingly at her ankles. She had loved them on sight and bought them on a whim. It felt like a thousand years ago. She moved her feet a little to admire the grace of their very high heels, and she frowned. They were covered in sand, and were proving to be a terrible choice for a beach wedding, but she refused taking them off anyway.
She noticed Darian moving a little uncomfortable at her side, and getting up to greet the man that had just arrived. Then he apologized and moved away to talk to some other people. Alessa just sighed, afraid of looking up.
Her eyes wandered a bit and moved to his footwear. Ellis was wearing black lace up shoes, the leather so smooth and stylish that they were probably Italian. Alessa wondered absently if it was an innate condition of his to be able to pick just the right things. Until recently she had always bought her clothing with no regard for fashion, more concerned about it being the best for running, jumping, and kicking evil's butt. Or teaching. That too had changed.
She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment.
"I thought we had a date," he said softly, and shifted a little on his feet. He was tense, she could notice that, even if she didn’t look at him.
Alessa opened her eyes but she didn’t move. The earlier she acknowledge his presence the earlier she'd have to speak to him. *And apologize. Again.* Her eyes returned to his shoes. They fit his ankles well, at least till they disappear into the gray fabric of his trousers. Light washed silk, excellent cut. She got to the expensive looking black leather belt and had to move her eyes away.
"The ceremony should start soon," Ellis pressed, his voice holding a nonchalant edge. "I guess it's just running a little late."
"Right," Alessa replies at least, suddenly breathless. "Just running late."
Ellis' stance relaxed a bit, all of a sudden, as if her response was just what he had been waiting. What had he thought, that she wouldn't’t even speak to him? Well, she grimaced, he wasn’t that wrong.
"We better get moving or we won't get good seats," he added, and thrust his hand for her to take.
She looked at his hand for a moment, before taking it. She smothered the bronze silk of her dress. Her beautiful dress. She had had to force herself into it this morning. If Donny hadn't insisted she wouldn't’t have come either. *The cunning woman! She probably knew Ellis would show up!* Tension sitting heavily in her stomach, she forced herself to her feet and to the man's eyes. It was even harder after that.
"Ho… how are you?" she managed. She seemed to have developed a stutter.
He smiled a not-quite smile. "I've been fine."
Suddenly forgetting what they were about to do, they both stood frozen for a moment, unable to speak but unable to do anything else, even look away from one another. After an eternity of this torture, Ellis shifted uncomfortably. "So, shall we move?"
Alessa felt her cheeks grow red and hot and she hated herself for it. "Sí. Claro. Right." She moved aside awkwardly, noticing that her hand was still wrapped in his. She retrieved it quickly and forced a smile.
Ellis smiled down at her and pushed her gently, guiding her towards the rows of chairs set at the sides of the aisle. His hand on the curve of her hip felt so familiar that she failed to notice it at first. She looked at him and found him staring back, his eyes twinkling knowingly.
"Let's sit, it's about to start," he whispered, nodding towards the raised canopy where the groom was finally taking his place.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
June 25th
10:15 pm
A graveyard somewhere in LA
The mosquito never saw it coming, as it was smashed against the wall by the force of the hand. Hunter glanced at the remains. Even though mosquitoes weren't really a problem for the undead, Hunter didn't like them. In his opinion they were nothing but annoying, nasty and frankly stupid little buggers. Actually, very similar to most vampires. His gaze moved around the little chapel, which he was standing in. He flinched a bit as his eyes caught the crucifix in the other end of the room. No matter how much experience he had gained in the killing field, he would never be free of the natural fear of the symbol. He then turned his attention to the entrance and the cemetery outside, covered in the blessed darkness of the night. * What, the bloody hell was taking her so long?*
During this last week Hunter had gained some information about Elise Hunt. Morris had confirmed his suspicions, surprised to hear that another member of the Hunt family was still alive and not all slain by his hands. Apparently the Hunts had been a very wealthy family, owning properties around the whole country. That was of course until Morris had decided to kill them for his amusement. Besides what Morris had told him, Hunter hadn't gained that much info about Elise. Apparently she had been away from L.A. for a while and returned just recently. She also owned a local shop. Hunter gave a sigh and took up a cigarette, followed by a movement of his lighter as he continued to look outside.
Elise knew she was late and she was cursing herself for it. She was never late. It was a luxury she couldn’t afford, not in business, not in her personal life, and certainly not when hunting. But things had gotten complicated; minutes before leaving 'Huntress' she had received a call from Alec, her brother. An unusual call too, and the hairs in the back of her head had stood on end when she heard his voice, so she had taken the time to listen him out, which didn’t improve the situation since he'd only talked nonsense and had finally hung up without really saying anything. Elise bit her lip and tried to shove those thoughts from her head, she needed all her wits tonight, being distracted was another luxury she couldn’t afford.
She looked up at the high fence around the little chapel, her eyes looking for some place she could use to get in. The thing seemed to be closed and locked, but she knew the chapel was abandoned, so all kinds of creepers must have found the way in during the years. There must be some hidden entrance. She started to walk along the fence and finally found what she was looking for, a spot where the elegantly curved iron bars were twisted and parted, and partially covered by vines. Heaving the mass of vines apart, she slid through the bars, and let the plants fall behind her again.
After walking a few steps, she could easily smell the smoke and could see the burning tip of Hunter's cigarette, its orange light illuminating his face slightly every time he inhaled. She smiled and purposely walked towards the vampire in the shadows, not bothering to be inconspicuous this time. She had been expecting this meeting all week, it was good that he hadn't changed his mind and not showed up after all.
As Hunter exhaled another smoke cloud, his acute sense of scent caught another odour beside the one of the smoke. He grinned and without turning around he calmly said: "'lo, cutie. Thought you was gonna stand me up."
"After you promised me some adventure?" Elise answered, and took the smoke from his hands to take a drag. Her green eyes shone with mischief as she watched him over the cigarette. "No way, Alex."
He grinned as he let the cigarette butt fall to the floor to then be crushed by the sole of his boot. "Right, then. Let's get moving." he answered and begun walking towards the exit of the chapel.
"Where are we going?" Elise asked, as she hurried to follow the vampire's quicker stride. She was a tall woman, but she was hindered by the darkness around. She looked at the cross over the abandoned shrine as they left the chapel and she wondered again about this not-so-common vampire; she had searched the Society's files for any reference to him to no avail. She hadn't had much to go on, of course, just the name 'Alex' and a description wasn’t enough to produce much results.
"You said you wanted to know more." He simply answered as he led their way from the graveyard. "So, I'll start by showing you reality."
*Reality my ass,* she thought, grimacing at the patronizing tone of her companion. She had seen enough reality to last a couple of lifetimes, thank you. But she kept the charade she had chosen and gave a little shiver to answer his words, even if she knew that any intelligent vampire would have checked on her by this time. And Alex was an intelligent vampire. She had made a mistake by telling him her real name the other night, but that couldn’t be helped now. Elise wondered how long it would take before he showed his true colours.
"Ok," she answered weakly, and kept following him. Alex led her to a different way out from where she had came and out to the deserted street. He walked in silence, and she had the opportunity to study him while she adjusted her long stride to his. He was dressed like the last time, black leather duster, black jeans, black t-shirt, he gave 'black' a new meaning, but it was unsettlingly becoming. *What a waste of good looks in a vamp,* she thought to herself, not for the first time.
The vampire led her through ever so deeper within a maze of storehouses, factories and depots. They were in a very industrial area of downtown LA, a favourite place for vamps' nests, as she well knew, she suspected he was leading her to one of those. She just wished he wasn’t getting them a nice dessert.
Hunter let his gaze wander around the abandoned storage houses and finally he stopped at the surely most run down building of them all. It looked as if it hadn't been used in years and that it would fall apart any second, but it seemed that even that would be a too long of a time for it too remain. And to top that it was also decorated in graffiti. He turned back to Elise and said: "Right, just stick with me the entire time. You don't want to give the impression that you're available in there, got it?"
Elise nodded, her eyes compliantly rounded. She looked at the building with trained eyes, she could see that he had led her to the real thing indeed. She wasn’t so silly as to do something reckless in there, vamp nests this size usually were out of her league, when she was alone, at least. "Don’t worry, I won't do anything stupid," she answered.
He nodded and then moved to the door (which was perhaps even a tad more rundown than the house itself) and opened it. It opened with a loud squeak and then Hunter entered. Inside there was quite a crowd. It was about ten people in there and Hunter guessed that about half of them were vampires. The rest was probably the usual gathering of either unknowing victims or those few fully aware of what they were doing, having come there with either lies that they were gonna be turned or just for the sheer kick of getting a couple of fangs in the neck. A few in the crowd gazed briefly on the newcomers and then returned back to whatever they were doing.
The huntress peeked from behind the vampire's back and smiled. This was what she was good at, even if she couldn’t show her own true colours still. She scanned the room and her gaze fell on several ways out, noting them for later use. The critters were too busy for guarding them, but you never knew. Most of the vampires looked as newly risen, and a few had that ragged look of those not doing well enough to hunt in the streets. She despised nests like this, the vampires took security in numbers, but they weren’t real threats when not together. She didn’t even think much about the humans reunited there, silly fools all of them, walking to a trap like this. Then a small cry startled her, a child's cry. Now, that was something different.
"There's a child in here, Alex," she said softly, before she could control herself. She bit her lip and waited for his reaction.
The vampire turned to the source of the sound. It came from a young girl, about eight years old in the grip of a vampire in her gameface, grinning at the young girls squirming and desperate struggle for freedom. He knew without looking that Elise was more then touched by the whole scene. "Easy cutie," he whispered "just watch..."
True to her role in this whole situation, Elise nodded and relaxed. Alex manner turned suddenly predacious and that was enough for her. She moved behind him, ready to take action if things managed to become difficult nevertheless, but there was something in Alex that told her that he could be highly effective in this as he had seemed to be in other situations. And it'd be interesting to see a vampire saving a little girl's life. She wondered again what motivation could be behind his actions.
Hunter watched her as she walked away and then turned his attention to the female vampire toying with the young girl. She appeared to have been about twenty when turned and was dressed in very revealing and cheap clothes. Probably a hooker that had gotten the luck of not just being drained and thrown away to rotten in some alley. Slowly and with the same silence that he was renowned for and just as she was finished with playing games and was moving her hand to expose the little girl's neck, Hunter's own grabbed out and locked it in a hard embrace. Grinning he said: "Didn't your mommy ever tell you not to play with the food?"
Elise's hand froze on the stake in her pocket, waiting for the vampiress answer. The little girl watched Alex with round eyes, downing her sobs and tensing too. Her eyes were big and all too clear in her tear streaked small face. Elise's resolve strengthened and she looked expectantly at her companion once more, still ready to take charge. Adrenaline was pumping in her veins, a welcoming feeling, and she had to force herself to stand still. If things would have been in her hands she'd have already staked the filthy whore and be running for the door with the little girl in tow, but she couldn’t just blow her cover in that way. Not until it was proven necessary.
"Fuck off!" The undead woman said trying to get her arm out of his grip. "Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Yes, I can see that." He answered with the same calm and that he always carried in his voice. "But I couldn't give a fuck about that. Now," he continued twisting her arm a bit further in his iron grip, "be a good girl and let her go, will you?"
She looked at him with a gaze marked with both pain as well as anger and a bit away Hunter spotted two male vamps who had turned their attention towards them. * Good, company* he thought but kept his attention at the woman next to him and what her next action could be.
The other vampire's eyes narrowed. "Get bent. I found her. I brought her here. She's mine and are you really so stupid that you think I'll just give her to you." As she finished her sentence she gripped a bit harder around the child who whimpered of pain and fear. Hunter showed no emotion and could see through the brink of his eye how the two other vamps moved closer. He then turned back to the female vampire in his grip and grinned. "Well, no." His features changed into that of the vampiric gameface. "But I've got other methods."
Without showing, Elise's focus turned to the vampires around. The scene was unusual enough to catch the attention of others, she doubted anybody cared about each other's preys in a place like this, unless it was to steal them away. However, these vampires were paying too much attention to Hunter's words and actions, and they seemed ready to take action protecting their female companion. Then Alex vamped out and Elise couldn’t help but grin.
The female vampire let go of the girl (who fell down whimpering from the pain which had previously been inflicted on her) and lunged at Hunter, her long painted fingernails looking like claws. But the other vampire was quicker and as soon as she had gotten her arm out of his arm lock, placed his hand on the handle of the well hidden katana. He could see that the two male vamps were running towards the two and his lips twisted in a very sinister grin as he released the blade from its scabbard.
The moment the girl was released, Elise moved swiftly towards her. She wouldn’t let some other creep take advantage of the little ruckus to take a snack. She kneeled near her and tried to help her rise, but the girl was frantic and slapped her hands away. The huntress caught the frail arms in her hands and searched the girl's eyes with hers.
"Shh, be quiet. I'm here to help you!" The hissed urgency of the words somehow passed through the haze of the girl's hysteria and she went suddenly still in Elise's arms. Her eyes were dark and accepting when she finally nodded. "Good," added Elise and moved the girl to her back, turning slightly to face the rest of the vampires around.
The blade swiftly dismembered the head and body of the prostitute and soon reached the floor of the old warehouse as dust. The two men moved advanced as Hunter avoided their blows. He moved the blade in yet another arc which they deflected and soon his face was greeted by a fist. As Hunter staggered back a bit from the pain the other of the two made an attempt to attack him from behind.
Elise took a second to watch his companion's movements before she took a fighting stance as well, and faced the rest of the people in the storehouse. Fortunately most of them weren’t vampires; not counting the ones already on Alex's back, she could see only a couple more, and Alex looked perfectly capable of dealing with them. She focused then on the rest of the people around. They were human, yes, but most of them seemed well aware of what was happening, and not very happy about it. Only a couple had been surprised and found the wits to run away when the nature of their 'friends' had been discovered.
She took one of her pistols from her customary leather jacket. They were loaded with her special wooden bullets, but they could make a lot of damage on human's flesh anyway. Keeping her right hand level and the girl behind her back, she smiled slightly and pointed the crowd. Her smile and the sight of the gun were enough for them to keep their distance.
Hunter felt the other vamp seize his arms in a quite strong grip and just as the other moved grinning towards him, he decided to act. He brought up his foot in a sturdy kick at the one who held his arms crotch. The vampire grunted in pain at the impact and let go of him. Quickly Hunter took up his katana that had fallen to the floor and brought it down on his opponent's neck. After the dust had laid itself, Hunter gave his other opponent, (who now didn't look to confident) a grin and then lunged at him.
*Two gone, three to go.* chanted Elise to herself, her attention never wavering from the humans she was keeping at bay, anyway. With the corner of her eye, she kept counting as Alex disposed of yet another vampire in a swift and sure way. She smirked when she noticed that the bigger group of vampire followers started to disintegrate as they realized the wisdom of getting out of the storehouse while they still could. She nodded, satisfied and reached behind her back to pet the girl who was sobbing softly. "It'll be over soon, dear," she said, smiling.
Hunter could see through the brim of his eye how most of the nest's visitors fled the scene. *Too bad*, he thought to himself. He had been hoping to get someone to eat after the fight. His adversary tried to avoid his attacks to Hunter's amusement and he would have liked to play a bit more but he didn't have the time, so he ended it quickly and decapitated him. He then turned to the remaining three vampires, who he could smell gave away a deal of fear in their scents. He grinned and said: "C'mon, do you really wanna push it?". Apparently they didn’t since they fled out the now open door. *Weak wretches*, he thought as he watched them run.
"That was impressive," Elise commented serenely, as she pocketed her gun again and turned to him. She admired his katana openly. "Great choice of a weapon too," she added.
"Thanks," he said as he placed in his scabbard "stole it from some hunter after I flayed her skin." Hunter then turned his attention to the little girl who still looked a bit shaken from the events.
"Come here, cutie." He said. She looked at him a bit warily and then moved over to him after a while. As soon as she came within an arm's lenght from him, he grabbed her wrist. She whimpered out of more fear then pain as he grabbed it.
Calmly he said: "All right cutie, now listen. You saw those others? They are bad people. I am even badder. You were lucky this time, but if you ever come near here again, you won't be so lucky. Got it?" She nodded and Hunter grinned. "Good." His grip on her wrist became harder and she begun screaming of pain. Then, just as sudden he let go of her. "See this as a friendly reminder. Now then, get going." He wouldn't even have needed to say this as she began running out of the building.
Elise eyes narrowed to killer slits as she watched the girl run out of the building. For all she knew the girl was homeless, and she wouldn’t stand a chance if she got 'unlucky' again. She felt her rage grow in her, and forced a deep breath to steady herself before turning to look at he vampire again. She couldn’t understand his motivations, even if he had dismissed the girl cruelly, he had saved her, and probably a dozen more in the process. It was stranger and stranger.
She straightened her jacket and looked around, they were alone in the storehouse now. She avoided looking at him. "So, this is what you had wanted to show me. You know interesting places."
"Yes," he answered, still looking at the door. "This is your first lesson, love."
"Ah." She purred softly, "there is more then?" She finally looked at him, searching his eyes with hers. She was still mad at him. "What will it be next? Some human sacrifice, maybe a satanic ritual? Blood drawings on some wild place? Oh, no, sorry. I forgot you don’t play with blood, you just drink it."
"I take it, you didn't understand the lesson, then." He answered just as calmly. "And Satan?" He snickered." You sure got a lot to learn."
"I'm not a child, Alex. And I finished school a long time ago." She took a step forward and revelled on being almost level with him, she was a tall woman. Adrenaline pumped fast in her veins as she stared at this fiend's cold eyes. She knew she was in danger, but danger always turned her on. "There are some limits I'm not willing to trespass too. I'm not sure I want any more 'lessons'"
"This isn't some thing you look up in some bloody textbook, cutie. This is reality! This is what happens every bloody night and what will continue to happen until this whole buggered world is destroyed. In the end humanity is cattle, who just awaits being slaughtered, either by our hand or their own!" He looked into her angry eyes fearlessly as he continued. "And once you've seen the truth, you can't just return to living the lie."
"Oh, I've seen the truth, thank you!" She said, gritting her teeth at his nonchalance, "I saw my parents sucked dry when I wasn’t much older than that girl. An early age to stop living the 'lie'." She sneered, looking up and down at him. "What is your story? Had you ever seen a vampire before you got your soul stolen and your life destroyed? Were you scared? Did you scream?"
At these words, memories begun showing before Hunter's eyes. A cemetery at night. A woman with long golden hair. Blood on her lips." We will be together for all eternity....." He snapped out of it after a while and answered. "No. And my life was far from destroyed when it happened."
"Forgive me if I losing my soul and becoming an evil fiend is not my idea of an ideal life." She shrugged, suddenly feeling very tired. Alex was a vampire, and she was a vampire hunter, the reality of that was unavoidable. They were just playing games.
"I just don’t understand this. Why are we doing this, why are you doing this?" She sighed and went on, "and don’t tell me again that I 'intrigue' you. The only way a human intrigues a vampire is about the taste of her blood."
He remained silent for a few moments and then before she could repeat her question he answered. " ´cause, you remind me about someone I used to know." He then broke away from her and turned towards the door. "You might do as you wish, but if you wanna meet once more, return to the chapel one week from now. Good bye for now, love." And with these words, he left before she could say another word.
Elise just watched him go. Finally she sighed and started towards the door again. This vampire was an enigma, and she certainly was going to see him again. Her reasons were no longer so clear, though. Shaking her head, she refused to think about it. At the moment there was a girl she needed to find.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
The Temple
Midday
Two Weeks Later
The demon called himself Saref.
It was difficult to find an exact way to describe Saref, aside from potentially a walking killing machine. His fingers included natural claws, and the bits of armour on his skin would make him rather difficult to kill in a fight even with melee weapons. Then there was his face, which made Nikolai thankful for the fact that Saref normally wore the hood of his robes up.
There was a great deal of difficulty in facing a cockroach like face, at least for a human, after all.
Saref had been training Nikolai in the use of weapons, but at last, the demon felt that he had finally found the right one. When they got out into the courtyard, where they always practiced, Saref handed him a small thing. It couldn’t have been more than a foot long, and appeared to be mostly a handle. “What is this?” Nikolai asked curiously.
An amulet around Saref’s neck glowed gently as his mandibles clicked together, a spell translating his clicks into an audible language: the language of the Xangyarj. Nikolai had been given a smilar one, to help him learn the language when he arrived there, until he proved capable of mastering it.
“Long ago, we decided concealment of arms would be necessary,” spoke Saref, holding a similar weapon. “Humans get funny to see an armed person walk the streets, our artificers perfected a method of concealment. This one is prepared specially for you, as I believe it is the weapon most suited to you. We will now practice. Focus on the blades appearing and speak the word ‘Shalas’ –“ as he did this, holding the weapon aside, Nikolai noted that not one, but two blades protruded from the weapon – “and the blades will appear.”
Nikolai focused carefully, knowing the rules well. Once removed, a weapon could not be sheathed until it drew blood. Often in training, one drew one’s own voluntarily at the end. Carefully, he held the black handle of the weapon, and envisioned the blades appearing. “Shalas.” At once, they extended from both ends.
Saref grasped his sword at arm’s length, falling into a fighting stance. Nikolai did the same out of habit. “Remember,” spoke his instructor, “this is a two-handed weapon, but can be controlled with one with great difficulty. It is also why I had you train holding the staff at only a narrow point in the middle. Prepare to defend yourself.”
Nikolai remembered those lessons well, and had wondered at exactly why Saref had him train that way. Now he knew. Part of him wished he hadn’t, when Saref moved. Instinctively, Nikolai dropped an edge of the blade in order to block the attack. Saref continued to follow through with the move, trying to unbalance him.
When their blades left contact with each other, Nikolai used his momentum to advantage to follow-through, and try to strike at his side. Saref re-oriented his weapon carefully, blocking the blow effortlessly. “Good recovery,” he said, launching into another attack which unbalanced Nikolai again to the point where he had to take several steps back.
He could tell it was different this time. In all the sessions before, Saref had been playing. This time, the master weapons instructor fought with a new determination.
A final blow landed which sent Nikolai reeling sideways. He used it to enable him to spin quickly, trying to strike at Saref’s side, only to have the demon block him again. “Impressive, Kolya.”
This time in the distraction of the speaking, Nikolai took advantage to attack. He brought the other handle around, as though he were using a staff to fight, and this time it was Saref who hardly had time to block the quick movements. At last, the demon took several steps back. “You have learned well. Now, let us see you defend against a single blade. Tolas!”
As he spoke the quick mystical word, Nikolai watched one of the blades vanish back into the handle. Saref re-oriented the weapon, and he brought up the right blade to block it. Of course, Saref had trained him in the use of the single-sword as well. “To know a weapon is to know how to defend against it,” Saref had assured him.
A man used to battle with firearms, Nikolai had taken the statement with a grain of salt, but could now see the wisdom to it. At each step in the battle, the knowledge of the weapon helped him to find an appropriate counter. Then, in a moment, Nikolai’s weapon was too slow.
Saref stopped to hold his blade next to Nikolai’s midsection, something else he had gotten used to. He and the demon halted in the midst of the battle, and Saref gave clicks of approval when he noticed what Nikolai’s final motion would have been. The two stepped back, and he gave a slight bow. “We would have joined each other in death,” Nikolai said.
“Perhaps,” said Saref. “Your blow would have been fatal, certainly; a powerful mage or medic might have saved you with enough attention. What allowed me to injure you?”
Nikolai thought for a moment, trying to replay the end of the battle in his mind. This was Saref’s way. The first few times, the demon had lectured him sternly on technique, but found it more instructive to have the student be constantly aware of what they did in battle. “I overbalanced myself,” he finally said. “It was the step forward to attack which did it. You were still able to react effectively.”
Saref nodded. “Good. To defend against the single blade is more difficult, in any effect. It is a faster weapon, but which still loses something against the double-blade. Why do I say this weapon is suited to you, Kolya?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think on that and who you are, and you will have your answer.”
“Of course,” Nikolai said, though one thing had him curious. “I noticed that you were able to use your weapon as a single blade. Is the enchantment unique to your weapon, or…?”
“It may work on yours as well, but the double-blade suits you better,” replied Saref. “But we may look at those techniques later. The retraction incantation is ‘Munas’ however for now, we should continue to spar. Defend yourself!”
taking care of maia-july 8
*** Sunday, July 8, 2007 ***
Maia whimpered and struggled as Daye helped her to take the fever reducing medication Drew had just brought back from the pharmacy. The little girl was covered from head to foot with a raised rash that the doctor had diagnosed as Chicken Pox. Maia was uncomfortable, sick, and terribly cranky, and Sam was banned from the house for seven to ten days, as he’d been inconsiderate enough to never have had the disease as a child. So, Sam was at Drew’s parents for the duration of the infection, and Daye and Drew had come back from their honeymoon a full week early to take care of their sick little girl.
*The honeymoon,* Daye thought, settling Maia back on her pillows and reaching for the bottle of lotion she’d brewed up the night before. The herbal remedy was great for rashes and seemed to soothe the uncomfortable itchiness normally associated with this one. Daye had to apply it every four hours, though, or Maia’s discomfort would cause her to cry incessantly.
*Part of me wishes we’d never had to come home,* Daye admitted to herself. While they’d been in Tahiti, it had been a lot easier to occupy her thoughts with only her husband and steer clear of even the hint of another, but now, at home, it was more complicated. Being back in her own house, sleeping in her own bed, Daye was more forcibly reminded of the events of the days leading up to the wedding. When she’d gone to sleep the first night back, cradled in Drew’s embrace, Daye had found unexpected resentment bubbling up from deep within. If Drew had simply been able to let go of his fear before and come to her, Daye might never have turned to Marcus again and again for support. It was that circumstance that had driven her into his arms, and Daye knew that Drew was at least partially to blame for what had happened.
*But I made the wrong choices too,* Daye reminded herself as she applied the lotion to her daughter. *Drew wasn’t the only one too scared to do the right thing. I never should have hidden from him. I never should have allowed myself to get so involved with Marcus. I knew…I knew that I had…desires for him. I should have severed all ties before it went too far.*
Daye felt a deep ache at that thought. She had successfully severed those ties the night she’d begged the man to make love to her, the night she should regret above all others. *But I don’t regret that,* she sighed. *As wrong as it was, and Goddess knows it was wrong, I can’t regret it. It’s the only night we’ll ever have.*
Daye closed her eyes, fighting off more tears. She’d shed enough already. She’d fallen in love with the wrong man, and betrayed the one she had now pledged herself to. Her guilt and hurt seemed boundless at times, but the one thing she couldn’t do was wish to take it all back. When she’d been with Marcus while infected, it had always been about lust, about the combustible attraction between them. But that night, the night before her wedding, when they’d been together, for her it had been about so much more that night. For just that all too short time, she’d opened herself up to him, heart and soul, and given him all the love she was capable of. Even if he’d rejected her words moments later, Daye knew that he’d accepted on some level what she’d offered with her body. That was why she wouldn’t, she couldn’t regret it. For a few precious moments, she’d loved him and felt loved by him in return. Even if it was all an illusion, she couldn’t bear to let it go. She was already giving up enough. Daye would cling to that one memory because it would have to last her a lifetime.
Daye shook herself out of her reverie and tucked the bed sheet up under Maia’s chin. She placed the lotion bottle on the nightstand next to the girl’s bed, and dropped a soft kiss on Maia’s forehead. *There’s no more time for sadness or guilt,* Daye reminded herself. *I’ve made my choice. This is the life I’m meant to lead.*
Standing, Daye slipped out of Maia’s room as her little eyes slid shut. Daye moved down the hallway, entering her bedroom, where Drew lay on the bed with a book open in his lap and his glasses askew. He’d fallen asleep waiting for her. Daye studied him for a moment. He looked…boyish and trusting and Daye’s heart squeezed tight in her chest at the sight of him. She loved this man too. Maybe she’d lost sight of that love for awhile, but she was finally starting to see it again. He was good, and caring, and most importantly, he accepted her wholly, her heart and her soul. She could trust in him and in his feelings for her. Drew was her safety net, her harbor, and Daye would never, ever risk hurting him again.
Crossing the room slowly, Daye slid his glasses off and took the book from his hands. She set it on the nightstand and turned off the light before climbing into bed beside her husband. Drew turned towards her as soon as she was under the covers. He wrapped his arm about her and pulled her close, murmuring softly in his sleep. Daye breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes. This was where she was meant to be, and it was a good, secure place. She slid into sleep, a deep, dreamless, contented sleep.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Tuesday, July 3rd, 2007 – 22:00
Reah’s heart thumped to the subdued beat pounding against the inner wall of a nightclub she wheeled her bike alongside to park. After checking it was secure, she abandoned the bike to head around towards the exclusive back entrance, but the closer she approached the more she was met with a disheartening sight. A cue fifty metres deep. “Oh, bugger this. What gives!” Ignoring the glares and disgruntled looks she was getting as she forced her way through the crowd, Reah steadily made her way to the start of the line.
“Eh, ease up. No jumping. Back of the line.”
“TJ,” Reah groaned as the large black man controlling the line, pushed her back. He blinked his eyes open and peered down over his bulking chest.
“Ey! Reah! Long time no see. How’s the love life?” He jested playfully, stifling his sniggers at her sudden sharp look.
“Spare me. What’s the big event? Can’t a girl get pissed without cueing anymore.”
TJ looked taken aback. “You mean you don’t know?” At Reah’s pointedly obvious shrug, he continued. “Rammstein’s playing! It’s like a secret performance.”
Reah’s gaze dropped seriously, before waving him off. “Get your hand of it, T-”
“Nah, I’m serious!”
… “You are?”
“C’mon, even after these years past, would I lie to you? You saved my life, man!” Reah shrugged uncomfortably under the praise and glanced briefly over the people surrounding to make sure no one heard.
“Shut up, dude. I don’t care.”
“Hey, look. They let me pass one of my friends a night for free. I’ve already done that, but if you want, I can get you in too?”
Reah eyed him speculatively for a moment before accepting.
*** 10 minutes later ***
“AAARRRGG!!!”
“Stop kicking, right! HEY!” TJ had Reah secured firmly in his massive arms, locked against his chest and lifted high off the ground while she kicked and screamed for the bastard to let her go. “No biting!” She tried elbowing, head-butting, groin smashing with her heel, but it was no use, he had her in too tight a grip as he carried her fitful body through the restricted halls. Other security guards they passed offered assistance which he declined, waving them off as best he could while wrestling Reah. They accepted that easy enough. She was, after all, just a girl. Some even made the wrong mistake of voicing so, making jokes of her feistiness and fiery red hair. TJ swallowed, hard. He knew that’d piss Reah off.
He wasn’t wrong.
The remainder of their staged struggle was carried out with much discomfort on TJ’s behalf. It was bad enough without having to restrain himself from curling up on the floor, rolling around and clutching his family jewels. When they finally reached their position, TJ whispered a somewhat strained signal into Reah’s ear, and she overpowered him, flipping him over her head and smashing him through the janitor’s closet as he’d described earlier, before slamming the door behind them, locking them in darkness.
Reah’s eyes sparkled with an eerie glow that lit up the small space, spotlighting TJ doubled up on the ground. He chuckled, smiling wryly back at her when she noticed a small trickle of blood trailing from his forehead. He fended off her hand that reached out to tend him, and nodded as best he could to the corridor outside. “They’ll be here soon. There’s no way they didn’t notice that.” Reah smirked and raised her hand to remove the long red wig. “No! Wait till you’re up there,” He gestured to the air duct.
“Thanks mate.” Reah grinned, “You’re a dead set legend.” She swiftly disappeared up into the air vents, replacing the grill behind her just in time for the other security guards to come crashing in, ripping open the closet door to find TJ, dazed and bruised. By the time they’d managed to pull him out and stick their heads up to scan inside the air duct, Reah was long gone and freshening up in the ladies room.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Tuesday, July 3rd, 2007 – 22:54
Nun liebe Kinder gebt fein acht
ich bin die Stimme aus dem Kissen
ich hab euch etwas mitgebracht
hab es aus meiner Brust gerissen
Mit diesem Herz hab ich die Macht
die Augenlider zu erpressen
ich singe bis der Tag erwacht
ein heller Schein am Firmament
Mein Herz brennt
Reah wordlessly moshed her head in unison to the grave beat that pulled at her cheerless mind while she moved through the heaving crowd. A cynical smirk, unseen by the casual observer, passed over her as she listened to the lyrics Til powerfully roared into the microphone as an absent orchestra kicked in to the chorus. She couldn’t believe TJ when he’d said who was playing. From the moment she’d first heard them during her short months in Germany, she’d fallen for their music. In her books, Rammstein were legendary. But how long had it been since she last heard them?
She wanted to get herself deeper amidst the pit with the rest. But bloody hell, it was packed tight!
Sie kommen zu euch in der Nacht
Dämonen Geister schwarze Feen
sie kriechen aus dem Kellerschacht
und werden unter euer Bettzeug sehen
Nun liebe Kinder gebt fein acht
ich bin die Stimme aus dem Kissen
ich hab euch etwas mitgebracht
ein heller Schein am Firmament
Mein Herz brennt
Mein Herz brennt
Reah’d found a clear path – or more or less, forced one – the effort of jumping was almost unnecessary, the sweaty bodies that pressed firmly against her did most of the work for her. Keeping control and staying upright was an issue that even Reah couldn’t help when the entire crowd would suddenly lurch. You had to be quick to make sure you weren’t pushed under and trampled, though Reah wasn’t too worried about that. When the crushing pit pushed her one way, she just made certain she returned the favor. Ten fold.
Sie kommen zu euch in der Nacht
und stehlen eure kleinen heißen Tränen
sie warten bis der Mond erwacht
und drücken sie in meine kalten Venen
Nun liebe Kinder gebt fein acht
ich bin die Stimme aus dem Kissen
ich singe bis der Tag erwacht
ein heller Schein am Firmament
Mein Herz brennt
Mein Herz brennt
Mein Herz brennt
Mein Herz brennt
Breathing became difficult, the humidity of a hundred bodies sharing their heat, lungs compressed and chests crushed if you didn’t keep your arms up to brace yourself.
Reah spotted a girl, one body over, as she made an extra effort to push herself up above the rest for some fresh air. The poor girl’s head lolled skyward, mouth agape for any and every breath of air she could claim. Her eyes lazed back and sweat slicking her face as she rolled with the pit. She was going to faint, and no one was about to help her, it was near impossible to notice, but if ever you did….
With some effort, Reah pushed her way behind the person between them, effectively causing another heave in the swarming pit, and looped her arm up under the girl’s before she slipped beneath the crowd when they lurched back. Reah then made the almost impossible journey to exit the mosh pit, back to higher ground where they could find a seat and the girl could revive safely.
Mein Herz brennt
Mein Herz brennt
Mein Herz brennt
Mein Herz brennt
“Hey! Hey!” Reah slumped the girl down in a spare seat she cleared some kids off as Rammstein started on their next score. Talking, she slapped the girl lightly on the cheek. “Wake up. You want some water?”
“Wh..wha?”
“Yeah, hi. I don’t suggest you jump back in that pit, k? You can’t handle it.” Reah stood upright, giving the girl one last slap on the shoulder. “Get some water.”
She didn’t bother looking back to check if the girl took on her advice, nor did she really care. She did what she could, and it was more than she had to. *Can’t go one bloody night out without trying to save a life, eh.* Reah shook her head, squeezing between people as she tried making her way for the bar.
She was leaning against the benches sticky surface, surveying the club as she raised her Corona to her lips. Rammstein was rounding off another classic masterpiece that had the crowd roaring for more while Reah still hummed the last chorus to herself. She idly wondered what she was doing in these places again. She’d surpassed the nightclub scene a while ago, having out grown its appeal. Getting drunk to pick up some other drunk no longer seemed much fun. It anything, it put her off.
And yet, she came back. Fortunately for her, Rammstein were playing, which made the experience largely better.
Reah smiled softly to herself, closing her eyes and allowing herself to gently rock with the music while enjoying the cold beer in her hand. Her euphoria only lasted a moment, however, when a strange chill suddenly ran down her spine. She was being watched.
As Rammstein started to play Sonne, Reah opened her eyes, searching through the mass of people in the establishment for the ones that sought her own, and found them much easier than expected.
Through a part in the crowd stood a lone man, his personal space cleared by those surrounding. His eyes never hid once from Reah, not even when she stared straight back in a challenge. His presence was commanding and overwhelming, Reah’d found herself locked in place, losing track of how much time was actually passing since she first spotted him.
His clean pressed black suit was out of place in the run down club. Cut to perfection, it highlighted his well-defined frame, offsetting the crisp white shirt that clung to his masculine body and draped over his pants. The man looked as though he’d stepped right out of some classy fashion magazine, what with his outfit complimenting those sharp features and piercing gaze so desirably well. If he was wanting to stick out like a sore thumb, he’d certainly done a good job of it. The material screamed of money, and yet he was here! *Management…?* Reah idly wondered as she began mentally undressing him. As though he knew what she was thinking, a coy smirk curled his lips and his gaze lowered seriously.
Reah blushed. Blushed! She could have slapped herself for being so stupid, but she couldn’t look away lest she might miss him do something. Like disappear! How horrible that would be if it came to it. Which it did. And much sooner than expected.
In the blink of an eye he was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Reah searched desperately, high and low throughout the entire club, but was wasted in her efforts. He was gone.
For some strange reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on, she felt as if he was a part of her, or her a part of him… she wasn’t sure what it was, but for the briefest of moments, she’d felt whole. She knew who Reah was.
And now she’d lost him.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
It’s always the same. Whether you’re in Egypt or Siberia, or the deserts of the Middle East the last seconds before you go are always, always cold. What’s to come, what the next moment will bring heat the blood and burns your insides to a crisp, so when the moment does come there’s nothing else. Nothing but the job.
It’s no different in the Columbian jungle. You lay face down on a hill, grass tickling your ears, and wait for the signal. While you wait, you watch the compound below, checking the face of every man woman and child you see, and you see a few. They come and go from each of the three buildings, men and women, young and old. All armed, all soldiers, all targets. You catalog them, counting seven in motion between the huts, going for smokes, to piss, anything. Intel puts that times two inside, operating within the huts, and in the tunnels underground.
The tunnels are the objective. The prisoners are there. There are twenty-one armed criminals between them and your team. But you’re ready. You and everyone you work with are ready. You just need the command. So you wait. You sit motionless and you wait.
When it comes you and the man with you, named Rolling, open fire. Suppressed rounds from all sides strike the men outside and they fall, dead. You leap to your feet and charge the hill, speeding to the bottom and coming together at the compound’s edge. Rolling cuts the outer fence, and you slip in. The team follows suit, and meets you at the door of the first hut. Rolling wires the door, you step back, and it blows. You go through first, and charge across an opening to the door. Rolling and two other men follow, shooting as they move. Three soldiers fall, and you cover the stairs, taking two more. Rolling and three men go up, while you turn, checking the rest of the floor. You hear fire upstairs, and the comm. goes active.
“We’re clear up here. One more down.” Rolling’s voice is comforting, though his breath is short. You make your way to the main room, and spot a mound in its center. On that mound you see a hatch. The tunnel’s entrance.
“Spotted dog one. Nero?” You call to the other huts, awaiting an answer. You need a body count, you need other entrances. The next step depends on it. And the answer you receive is simply, clear. “Two down.” They say. “No dogs. Repeat, no dogs.” So you wait, and Rolling returns. He scans the hatch, searching it, putting the bomb sniffers on it. You hand your rifle to one of the other men, drawing the sidearm.
Space below ground is tight, non-existent. There’s no light, no vision, and death waiting in the first moment. You draw your sidearm, your two-tone Sig Sauer, and wait for Rolling. He clears the hatch, opens it, and steps aside. You leap in, unprotected, unguarded. Anyone waiting at the bottom, anyone who’s ready has you if they want. But there’s no one. You raise the Sig, clear both sides, and move.
You’re on your own.
June 10, 2007
1318 Poplar Avenue Apartment Building
2:08 AM
Tyler Hyatt woke with the darkness of the tunnel still in his eyes. It held him a moment, captured him in the memory of days past and friends lost, until he felt someone’s head on his shoulder. Kelly was asleep beside him, lying curled into him. Her hair danced lightly on his chest, tickling him and bringing him back to reality. She always slept that way, always laid against him. It was one of the things he missed while they were apart.
Tyler reached down and moved her hair away from his chest.
He’d gone far enough once on one of his sleepless nights to attribute his insomnia to Kelly’s absence, to rethink momentarily the choice he made in sending her and Shawn away. But that moment passed. He reconsidered the theory again when he found himself able to sleep for a few weeks after they moved into the Poplar Apartment. He believed it for a month, a very good month. But now Kelly was here, and he was again permanently awake.
With little else to do, Tyler took a look around his bedroom. The room, like everything else, was dominated by Kelly’s taste, which Tyler greatly admired. She’d chosen all the furniture, all the decorations, and had been kind enough to keep it fairly Spartan, knowing Tyler would need to adjust things. That too, he admired.
Their bedroom now contained a bed, a desk with a laptop computer, and a chest of drawers in which to store clothes. Each piece of furniture was tailored to a basic black motif, and it all blended well, including the laptop, which belonged to Kelly. After several modifications from her husband, she’d been pleased to learn that she could continue to work, and get her checks in LA so long as some measures were taken.
Beyond the bedroom there was more of the same. The biggest different that the motif was in dark blue, and there was more furniture. Kelly had put in a three seat sofa and an easy chair, both of leather. In front of them, just inside the reach of feet, was a wooden coffee table, with a blue carpet beneath it. She put a clock on the far wall, just above the television set, and a bookcase on the left, stocking only one shelf.
Beyond that, the kitchen was the very model of efficiency. There was no space wasted, and nothing new in it. She organized it until all utensils were within a step of each other, and the stove. The dinner table was fifty feet from the food preparation area, something she insisted on.
Thinking about it, Tyler remember watching her make the decisions and supervising as he and Shawn moved everything into place. It had been the right decisions. She found her stride in putting together their home, and Tyler could see she felt in control for the first time, comfortable. He’d slept peacefully that night, and very nearly had hope for the future.
But now he found himself struggling not to think of his additions to the décor. He had stashed the guns he acquired from the men he’d killed in a locker at the Port of Los Angeles. Emptying it, he made sure that at all times he and his family were within reach of a weapon. The Beretta he used to kill Denny Elbourn’s crew was latched beneath the sofa, with a Glock in a similar position on the chair. On the side of their television he stored an MP-5, which he’d taken from the vehicle of one of his victims. In the kitchen there was a Heckler & Koch USP .45 and a 9mm Smith and Wesson. On top of that, he, Shawn, and Kelly all kept their weapon of choice either on them or near them at all times.
Tyler couldn’t make his family any safer and he knew it. That still didn’t put his mind at ease.
Tyler took hold of Kelly and rolled her off him gently, careful not to wake her, then got out of bed and put on his pants. He was giving up on sleep, for the third consecutive night. It was becoming a problem again, even if there was a routine to it this time. He would sleep for an hour, two at the most, before the dream woke him. And it was always the same dream, a memory of one of his missions. He’d gone to the jungle to rescue two captured DEA agents. Who were being kept in a prison underground, a prison with only one entrance. It was Tyler who made the first breach.
The fight that resulted was still the ugliest of Tyler’s life.
Tyler left his bedroom and went to the kitchen, taking the 9mm from its hiding place. Once he had it, he took a bottle of Jack Daniels and poured himself a drink.
“So what are you thinking about?”
Tyler turned back to his bedroom and looked at his wife, standing in the doorway wearing a bathrobe. She’d followed him out, and Tyler wasn’t surprised.
“Did I wake you?”
“Empty bed. How many nights now?”
Tyler smirked, and capped the bottle of Jack Daniels. He couldn’t hide anything from her.
“You noticed then?”
“Of course I did.”
Tyler opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water, then walked to the chair. He sat and tossed the water to Kelly, but simply held his own glass.
“How long, Tyler?”
“Three nights now.” Tyler took a drink. “It’s not the same as before. I actually sleep a little while. It just doesn’t keep.”
Kelly looked at her husband then sat on the couch, arms resting against the back. He looked fine to her, like there was nothing physically wrong, until she got to his eyes. Tyler was one of the most focused people Kelly had ever known, and his eyes were drifting, not moving around so much as failing to stay on anything.
“Why not?”
“That’s the rub.”
Tyler took a sip from his drink and watched Kelly open the water. She was settling into her scientific side, which meant she was worried.
“I don’t know, Kelly.”
Kelly took a sip of water.
“Are you having nightmares again?”
“Yeah.” Tyler took another sip from his drink. The nightmares were nothing new. He had them for a few weeks, just after Ryan was killed, and shared them with Kelly. It had helped him then, and he thought about trying the same thing here. “But they’re not dreams so much as-”
“Flashbacks?”
“Yeah. Of a mission in Columbia.” Tyler took a drink.
“Do I know it?” Kelly thought about Tyler’s work as she asked the question. He’d told her quite a bit about it over time, told her stories that kept her awake at night from time to time. Then there were other things she couldn’t get him to say, no matter what she tried. It wasn’t long before she knew how to recognize them, and when to stop pressing.
“No. It…uh…”
“Okay. Is there any chance-”
Tyler shook his head and put his drink on the coffee table. It wasn’t going to be that simple. “I’d know if that was why.”
“Okay.” Kelly leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. It was a physical signal Tyler had come to recognize as her thinking something through, a sign that she didn’t want to be disturbed. It annoyed him now. His sleeplessness didn’t deserve this kind of attention. But he didn’t say anything, and schooled the annoyance off his face when she turned her head up.
“So what else is on your mind?”
“What?”
“What else is going on?”
Tyler leaned forward, trying to engage with her.
“I’m not following you.”
“If it’s not the dreams it’s something else. What’s been on your mind?”
Tyler stood up from his chair and moved himself to the couch, sitting on the arm and turning himself to face Kelly directly. In response, she stood up and faced him, moving to the balls of her feet. She looked to Tyler like a street fighter, spoiling for a brawl, a ridiculous sight for someone in a robe. He nearly smiled.
“I bet you guess.”
“Shawn?”
“Yeah.”
Kelly smiled for half a second, then sat again. She’d been expecting Tyler to fight with her, thought things were going in that direction. It was a pleasant surprise when he didn’t.
June 10, 2007
Balance HQ
2:07 AM LA Time
Collin Braddock strode through the halls and ignored the stares he received from his employees. He’d gotten used to them since his return from Taiwan, since the rumors of what exactly he did in that city started to spread. They’d gotten ridiculous. The mission had been difficult, it was true, but the legend was more than difficult. It was preposterous.
The story that was told was of Collin going to Taiwan to retrieve a crystal the company had been trying to find for years, a crystal that could very well lead to the end of the world. The story said that Collin was going because every man he sent before him had failed, which was true, but it was only three men in reality when the story said six.
When Collin got there, he allegedly found himself being drawn into a cult that worshipped the only living dragon, which he slew, then retrieved the crystal before starting his epic run out of the country.
In reality, the cult worshipped a hell god that was banished from the earth in the first century. Collin killed five of them, retrieved the crystal, then went under when he learned that their reach stretched into the Taiwanese government. He was retrieved a day after he procured the crystal.
Since that time, the crystal had been in the hands of the company’s research division, so it could be authenticated. He was going to see them now, to see if they’d finally finished the job. But the stares were bothering him, and he was thinking about leveling the place.
“Sir.”
Wilson Medrano fell into step with Collin, and the other workers looked away. Collin alone was someone they admired, Medrano they feared.
“What do you need, Wilson?”
“Masey’s not having any luck in LA.”
“There’s not even a sign?”
“No.”
Collin looked away from his X.O., frustrated. He’d put Wilson in charge of tracking Tyler Hyatt down six years ago, when Tyler had first gone under and declared his intention to expose the company. It was the kind of job Wilson did best, better than Hyatt had, and it should have been done by now.
“How many more people do you need?”
“None. He’s gonna check another lead, then I want to go myself.”
“Fine.
Wilson walked with Collin a few more steps than stopped, looking at the door to the research department.
“The crystal, Boss?”
“Yeah.”
“Let me know, will ya?”
“Right.
As Wilson turned away, Collin entered the room.
June 9, 2007
10:04 PM
Los Angeles
Flashback
Shawn Hyatt ducked to his left and threw a right hand at Tyler. It missed, and that was all there was. Tyler grabbed his sons arm and twisted it, making Shawn scream. Tyler followed up with a knee to the breadbasket, bending Shawn over, then brought his hand down on the boy’s neck. Shawn fell to the ground with the strike.
“You’re dead.” Tyler stepped away and grabbed the towel he’d left on the back of the couch. Wiping his face, he turned back to the boy. “Get up, let’s go again.”
“Would you give me a minute?” Shawn pulled himself up and took a seat on the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck and refused, steadfastly, to look at Tyler. Tyler was getting tired of it.
“How am I dead?”
“You just are.”
“You hit me in the back of the head, I don’t see how-”
“I’d have been armed if it was a real fight.” Tyler snapped at Shawn then beckoned him. “Get up, and try it again.”
“I will when I’m ready.”
“No, you’ll do it now.”
“Look,” Shawn rose as he spoke and stepped toward Tyler, trying to threaten his father. “I’ve had it with this. You don’t get to talk to me like that.”
“Shawn, your father is trying to get you-” Kelly stood up and walked into the living room from the kitchen. She could see a fight building up, see anger in the eyes of her husband and her son and wanted to head it off.
“No, mom. He’s not my father.”
“Shawn-”
“He wouldn’t have left if he was.”
Tyler looked his son over for a moment. The boy was barely able to keep himself from shouting, but they’d had this argument before, had it many times since they came to Los Angeles. Tyler had put up with it for two years now, and he’d had enough.
“Kelly, step outside for a moment.”
“Tyler-“
“Just do it, please.”
Kelly looked at her husband a moment, then crossed the room and went into the bedroom. She trusted that Tyler knew what he was doing, and watched as he never moved his eyes off of Shawn.
When Kelly shut the door, Tyler put thing into motion.
“You want to have this out now, Shawn?”
“What is there to ‘have out’?”
Shawn starred at his father with eyes of hate, eyes that could light a fire with the right conditions. Tyler forgave him for that, in the moment. He understood the boy’s feelings, understood that he had to take the stress of seeing his mother kill a man, of going through intense training to be a killer himself, on someone. But he wasn’t being reasonable.
“You know what I’m talking about, boy.”
“No I-”
“It’s been months since I got you guys out of Spain. Let it go.”
“I can’t. You fucking abandoned me.”
Tyler stepped toward the boy.
“Then work it out. Right now.”
“What?”
“Attack me. For real.”
Shawn looked confused and Tyler smirked. He’d worried about nothing when the training started.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Attack me.”
“Wha-”
“You think I was wrong to send you and your mother to Spain. You’ve persisted in being pissed, despite the fact that your mother understands, and has forgiven me. You obviously think you know enough to understand the situation. Show me.”
Shawn swung his right hand as Tyler finished talking. Tyler blocked it and grabbed the boy’s wrist, tripping him and backing off.
“Again.”
Shawn jumped to his feet and charged Tyler. Tyler stepped to the side and punched his son in the stomach, then shot one of his knives out of his coat, tripped the boy and followed him down. He put the knife to the boy’s throat.
“We’ve been at this how long?”
“At what?”
“Training. How long?”
“Three months, I think.”
“Right.” Tyler raised the dagger and stabbed it into the floor, an inch away from the boy’s ear. “And you still can’t hit me going full boar. I’m not the best at this, Shawn. I never have been. And you can’t even touch me.”
Shawn didn’t try to struggle. He didn’t move. He just locked his eyes on the knife and submitted, a wave of fear washing over him.
“I sent you and your mother away because you’re not ready to live this life, even now. It’s time for you to get over it.”
June 10, 2007
2:30 AM
“You held a knife to his throat?”
Kelly’s reaction made Tyler laugh, and he moved down onto the couch. It was always a blessing to him when she reminded him they didn’t live in the same world. The move against his son had made perfect sense to him at the time as a way to drive the danger home. She couldn’t see it a half hour after he told her what he did.
“It worked, though.”
“Still!”
“I know.”
Tyler slid across the couch and kissed his wife’s forehead.
“We should talk about this, Tyler.”
“What would you have had me do?” Tyler took his seat again and fought to keep himself from chuckling. “He held the damn grudge for almost a year. If we run into trouble, he’s gotta do what I tell him.”
“Have we run into trouble?”
“No but…”
Tyler stopped himself in the middle of the sentence and thought about what he was going to say. For the past three days, it hadn’t only been sleeplessness that had been dogging him. It had been a sense of dread, of foreboding doom waiting around the next corner. He’d been thinking he was being followed, thinking that 1318 Poplar had picked up another tag. He’d been thinking more and more that each and every person he came across was waiting for the moment of attack. And Tyler’s experience told him one thing.
When he had that feeling, he was usually right.
Texas
Collin Braddock stood in the foyer of the research department and waited. When he’d left Wilson the first thing the techs had said was that they had results, and wanted to retrieve the report. He’d been waiting ten minutes now.
A door opened and a man came through. Collin stood and moved to meet him. The tech held out a paper and Collin took it, reading. After a moment he handed it back to the tech and walked out of the room, grabbing his cell phone.
“Wilson, assemble the last of your team, we’re going to LA now.”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
June 10, 2007
10:00 am
In the Sky
Collin Braddock sat in his seat on the plane as Wilson Medrano made sure all of the men were armed. He held a computer on his lap and tapped away at the keys, preparing a document that would detail the events of the mission into LA, and wondered how much trouble might be waiting in the city. Years ago he had dubbed it “The Battleground” and there was a reason. Every time he sent men there, every time he went himself, trouble always followed.
He could remember one mission where he’d gone to the city with Tyler and a team of twenty to keep the vampires under control when the sun was blocked. They went in as prepared as they could be, but only Collin and Tyler came out alive. There were, simply put, too many of them.
It bewildered Collin persistently that Tyler chose this city to hide in, particularly after successfully saving his family. It wasn’t the place for people like Kelly and Shawn Hyatt, people who had never found themselves lying and killing to stay alive, people who lived in the normal world. It was a place of violence and death, a place of hopelessness, and Collin would have given anything to level the city at that moment.
But for the moment, he needed it. He needed it because in the city there were two crystals that he’d been searching for since he was twenty-two.
December 25, 1977
Braddock residence
Austin Texas
3:00 PM
“Reginald?”
Collin Braddock called out into the lush, cavernous halls of his family’s home as he shut the door behind him. He was returning home, coming in from the fields of Vietnam with death on his hands, and he wanted to spread it around.
“I’m home!”
Collin stepped further into the house, dropping the bag he’d had in his right hand on the floor. Looking around for his uncle, Collin crouched and opened the bag, searching until he found a stained, wooden box. Opening it, Collin took out a Beretta and a clip, loading the gun. Once it was done, he proceeded into the house carefully, hoping for the element of surprise.
Thinking about it, Collin wanted to go upstairs. His uncle had a habit of disappearing into the library to read and smoke a cigar. If he was fast, Collin could probably catch him there, and simply do the deed. But he decided to check the house, make sure he had privacy.
The Plane
“Colonel?”
Collin turned his head to Wilson and shook the memory from his head for the moment. He moved the screen of his laptop down, out of sight, and turned to his second in command.
“Yes?”
“We’ve gotten some word through back channels. The Beazor complex has been to the ground, and Nesmith’s organization is in shambles.”
“Good. That will make this easier.”
Wilson watched his boss turn his attention back to the computer and took a moment to think. Collin seemed unengaged.
back to flashback
Collin crept through the open door into the library and saw his uncle in his chair. He’d spent half and hour going through every room in the house, and knew he had privacy.
Reginald Braddock was an evil man, Collin knew. He’d treated Collin like he was non-existent for year, like he was a hurdle on the elder man’s way to the family fortune. He’d ignored him; he’d stuck him with abusive nannies, and tried to get rid of him. Now, the chickens were coming home to roost.
Before he moved, Collin took a moment to look his uncle over. Reginald had aged poorly. His face was covered with a map of the world, lines of experience taking their toll on features that were already unattractive. He wore a pair of old beige slacks and a red sweater, and looked lost in whatever book he had in front of him.
Rage welled up in Collin’s throat and he raised the weapon.
“Uncle.”
Reginald stood and turned. Collin fired. Three times he squeezed the trigger on the Beretta, and three times he hit the elder man. Reginald fell, horror dominating his face. Collin stood a moment and looked over his work. When it passed, he dropped the gun. His hands came up to his face, and they were shaking. Then he screamed.
The Plane
“Boss?”
Collin shook himself from the memory a second time and turned his attention back to Wilson. Medrano was still standing before Collin, still looking down, waiting for some kind of response. Collin couldn’t remember what the conversation was about.
“Yes, what?”
“Are you all right?”
Wilson moved until he was directly across from Braddock then squatted, so they were on even ground. Collin stared at him, angry.
“What are you talking about?”
“I just told you that this quest you’ve been on for years is going to fail, and you didn’t react.”
Collin looked his second over a moment. Wilson’s voice was sounding more and more like a lie. He spoke in a tone that conveyed something just short of love, a concern that people can only develop for family. He was trying to comfort Collin with words, but his face told a different story. Wilson was wholly disengaged, and Collin knew he didn’t give a damn.
“Because Nesmith is dead?”
“Yes?”
Collin started to recall more of the conversation.
“You want to know why I think this is a good thing?”
“It might be helpful.”
“We never needed Nesmith. We need to track the fucking crystals. We find his home, we search it, we search the ruins of the Beazor. If we get lucky, we’re done. If not, we find his cohorts and squeeze.”
Collin started typing again.
“Now go away.”
Wilson stood and moved away from his boss, much to Collin’s relief. He tried to concentrate again. He tried to put his mind on the paper work, and off his uncle, but the event came back to him again.
He tried to save Reginald after the shooting. He gave first aid, he called an ambulance, and he did all that he could. But ultimately, it wasn’t enough. The doctors told Collin a number of things, none of which he understood, and all of which were bad. With the aid of machines, Reginald was destined to live as a vegetable for the rest of his life.
Collin took care of him, transferred him to company headquarters when he took over the Balance. From that day on, he tried to find a way to bring his uncle back to health. The Lazarus crystals were that path. Torturing a shaman years ago told Collin of their legendary healing powers.
Now he would have them. If he had to raise the entire world, he would have them.
It was his redemption.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
June 10, 2007
1318 Poplar Avenue
Los Angeles, California
4:02 AM
Tyler Hyatt sat on his sofa and didn’t move so his wife could sleep in peace. They had been arguing for much of the night, since two AM, arguing about the way Tyler handled the situation between him and Shawn, but settled the matter at four. Five minutes later, Kelly was out like a light, and Tyler was doing everything he could not to disturb her. She slept the sleep of a person with a clear conscience, and Tyler was always drawn to the sight because he knew it wouldn’t last.
One of the things they’d struggled with over their thirteen years of marriage was the simple truth of Tyler’s existence and the toll it took on him. Even before the Balance, even before Collin Braddock cast his shadow on Tyler’s life Tyler lived in a world of brutality. He moved from place to place, mission to mission, war to war, and though Kelly served her time with the military, she was a medic and she did only a single tour. And Tyler could see, even then, how it bothered her when he would simply go silent when she asked a question, and how often she had to prop him up. It bothered her that he was so depressed so often, particularly after they adopted Shawn.
He couldn’t explain to her, the cost of killing the way he did, or why he always seemed to be cold, in body and in personality. They were living in different worlds, worlds that collided when he extracted her and Shawn from Spain.
Kelly killed a man that day, her first, and there would be more coming. Tyler knew it and she knew it. Her conscience wouldn’t be clear for long, but she would survive it.
Thinking of it, Tyler cradled her gently then got up so he could lay her down on the couch. He threw a blanket over her, stroked her hair gently, and then picked up the Smith and Wesson. He wanted to check on Shawn. Tyler was afraid for the day the boy had to kill, and needed as much of the time before that happened as he could get.
As he moved toward the boy’s room, the disturbingly spare room, Tyler cast a glance to the nearest window. Something caught his eye, something across from the building, something in an alley, and he stopped, looking out. He gazed into the alley for a moment, and then started to move.
A set of lights went off before he could.
The alley
4:01.30 AM
Harold Masey pulled his car into an alley across from 1318 Poplar Avenue and reached for his cellular phone. He kept it in a charger, attached to the dashboard above the left side of the steering wheel. Reaching for it, his elbow bumped the control stick and flashed the headlights for half a second.
“Dammit.”
Taking hold of the phone, Masey unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. As he crept to the head of the alley, to the point where he could see the building, he dialed the number in Texas to check in. Reaching the head of the alley, Masey pulled a scope from his pocket and looked out.
“Code in.”
Masey pulled the scope down and turned his attention to the phone.
“Harold Masey, 4rt5621, go secure.”
Masey brought the scope back up and scanned the windows, looking for any signs of life, signs that occupants would be awake and watching. All the reports, all the info the company had on this building led to the conclusion that it was a danger zone. Masey wanted to approach covertly.
“What do you need, private?”
“The XO’s expecting my report.”
“He should be boarding a plane now, sir. Out of contact.”
“Okay.” Masey pulled his scope down and started back to the car. “When he checks in tell him I’m at the target and scouting for a covert entry.”
“Right.”
Masey hung up and stepped up to the back of his car. Opening the back, he pulled keys from his pocket and opened a steel box inside, taking from it a Walther P99 and a silencer.
The apartment
Tyler ducked away from the window when the lights flashed and stayed low, making his way into the kitchen. Once there, he opened a drawer and reached inside feeling around until he came up with a scope, a sniper scope taken from a damaged weapon in Spain. Once he had it, and crept back to the window and took a quick look.
He spotted the man at the end of the alley, his own scope down for a second, then pulled away and went to the floor. He crawled across to his bedroom and went inside, grabbing his shirt and his coat. Once he’d finished dressing, Tyler made his way out of the apartment, and out of the building.
The Alley
Masey shut the lid of the box and started screwing in the silencer. When he finished his phone rang, and he answered, laying the gun on the top.
“Masey.”
“Report.”
Wilson Medrano, as always, cut right to the point.
“I’m at the apartment building on Poplar. The security’s every bit as good as Scott said it was.”
“Any sign of Hyatt?”
“No. But if I wanted to keep us away this would be where I’d go.”
Masey clipped a holster to his belt and picked the gun up again, putting it on his hip. Stepping back, he shut the trunk and started for the head of the alley.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Check it out.”
Masey stopped in the middle of the alley and turned back toward the car. His attention went into the call, and the answer to his next question. He’d seen too many men executed for breaching mission protocols.
“What’s the protocol?”
With his attention turned away, Masey didn’t hear the steps as Tyler Hyatt crept to the head of the alley and put his back to the wall. Craning his neck around the corner, he saw the agent’s back to him, and waited, hoping for intelligence that he could use.
“Enter and recon. Nothing else. Tyler’s going to have defenses up if he’s in there, so he’ll see you coming. If you fail, and what I’ve heard about the security is true, we’re screwed if that happens.” Tyler could hear the voice of Wilson Medrano, even from thirty feet away.
“And what if he is there?” Masey said.
“We’re sending you directions to a place called the Beazor. It’s ruins, but it’s the last known location for some artifacts the boss wants.”
“Artifacts?”
“Crystals. He said something about Lazarus.” Masey paused for a moment and absently turned around. Tyler ducked behind the wall, drawing his Smith.
“The Beazor was run by that Paul Nesmith, right? If he’s got those crystals…”
“He’s missing, presumed dead.” Wilson paused. “When you’re done, hook up with us at what’s left of his place.”
“Right.” With that, Masey hung up the phone and walked back to the head of the alley. When he reached it, Tyler swung his gun and hit Masey in the head. The Balance agent went down, his nose smashing into the pavement. Before he could recover, Tyler had taken the Walther.
“Turn over, Howard.” Masey didn’t move. “Howard, you know what’s going to happen. You know I have questions, and you know I’m going to get answers. It’s just a question of how long it takes and how much you put yourself through.”
Masey stayed on his face and thought for a moment. He’d worked with Tyler many times, often enough to know what he meant. He remembered demons that begged Tyler to kill them after less than an hour. He remembered uncooperative sources, and the days before the Balance, when they were in Delta. They’d been friends for a time, close enough for Masey to know he was finished.
He turned over.
“Good.” Hyatt pointed the silenced Walther and stuffed the Smith in his pants.
“Hands on your chest, Howard. Palms down.” Masey complied and looked up at Tyler, up the barrel of a gun. He placed his hand on his chest, as ordered, then started silently praying.
“Good.” Masey moved his eyes from the gun to Tyler. The man was as cold as Howard ever knew him. His face, his eyes showed nothing, betrayed nothing of his thoughts. It was all business. “What was Wilson saying?”
“Wilson?”
“Howard, don’t.” Masey could have sworn he heard sorrow in Tyler’s voice.
“Which part?”
“I heard something about crystals.”
Masey took a moment and replayed the conversation with Wilson in his head.
“The Boss’s been looking for these crystals. It’s like an obsession.” Masey gagged, and wheezed. “He took half the company of the Majestics for God’s sake.”
“What does he want them for?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you describe them?”
“No.”
Frustrations took Tyler’s face for a moment, but they passed. His eyes hardened, and he looked Masey over, trying to determine if he was telling the truth. After a moment, he pressed on.
“Where are they staging?”
“I don’t-” Masey stopped talking when Tyler fired. The bullet hit him in the leg, and his hands flashed to the wound. Tyler stepped forward and backhanded him.
“Don’t fucking lie to me.” Tyler grabbed Howard’s hands and pulled them off the wound. He stuck his finger in, and yanked outward on the skin. When Masey screamed, Tyler stepped back again.
“It’s a building, a block north of the Port. Red paint job.”
“How many?”
“Wilson’s team.” Masey nodded, and Tyler backed off. He lowered the gun and paced three steps, walking in a small circle. He moved his attention back to Howard, and raised the weapon.
“How good’s the intel?” Masey didn’t try to answer. He simply held his leg, tried not to scream again. “Nod if it’s good.”
Howard nodded.
“I’m sorry it was you.” Tyler fired four times, killing his former comrade. He kept the weapon trained on Masey a moment, looking over the corpse of a one-time friend. When the moment passed, he took Masey’s keys and put him in the back of the car.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
June 10, 2007
Junkyard
8:31AM
Tyler Hyatt closed the trunk of a demolished car and stepped away to pick up his gas can. Once he had it in his hands, Tyler opened the can and doused the car, tossing away the can and tossing a match on the pile. When it lit, he turned, picked up a garbage bag, and walked away, away from the car, and away from the one time friend being destroyed inside it. He made his way across the yard to the gate and crouched, sliding carefully through the hole in it.
When he was out, Tyler looked down the empty street. He was waiting for Kelly, and his ride back to the apartment. She wasn’t going to be friendly when she arrived. His phone call from the road woke her up, and made her an accessory to murder. He was drawing her further and further into his world.
It didn’t help that she had known Howard nearly as well as Tyler. Jordan Masey was one of Kelly’s closest friends once, close enough that it was her Kelly took any and all problems with Tyler to. It had hurt her when he said Howard was dead, hurt more when Tyler said he’d killed him. In the silence, Tyler had seen Kelly fighting off tears then redirecting the grief into anger at him, a reaction Tyler welcomed fully.
While he waited, Tyler opened the bag and looked at the gear he culled from Masey’s car. There was a vest, the third Tyler had acquired, an M-4, and a series of grenades, all of which would be used soon enough.
Tyler heard stones being crushed under tires and looked down the road to his left. Kelly was pulling up, approaching in the car they’d driven since their ship landed in Boston harbor after the escape from Spain. He stood and turned to face her, raising his hand over his head for half a second. He saw her slow, and caught a glimpse of her face.
She was pissed.
An Alley
11:00 AM
Collin Braddock stood over Wilson Medrano’s shoulder and watched as his cohort threw an Iventith demon named Ranthog into a wall and hit him with a cattle prod. The demon shrieked in it’s own demon way and fell into a sitting position. When it’s head went down, Collin moved to the demon and squatted, reaching a hand out to put the demon’s eyes on him.
“I’m going to run over what we know with you, so you can make sure your answers are productive.” Collin let the demon go and took a handkerchief from his pocket. “We know that you sold weapons for Paul Nesmith at the Beazor complex. We know that you were privy to a great deal of his security information. And we know that in September of 2005 Mr. Nesmith came into possession of two of the three Lazarus crystals, photos of which my associate showed you.”
Collin wiped his hands with the handkerchief and stood. He took a step back from the demon and started pacing in a small circle, staring down at the ground, looking only at Ranthog.
“Now, I want to know if Mr. Nesmith kept these crystals until the time of his passing, where he would have them, and if he moved them, where to.” Collin squatted by the demon again, cocking his head. “And I want you to tell me now.”
Ranthog lifted his head and looked Collin in the eyes. He started to rear back, like he was spitting, but coughed, and a second face rolled around, a human one, covered in fear. He whimpered and curled into a fetal like position.
“Why are you doing this to me? What did I do to you?”
Collin signaled over his shoulder to Wilson, who immediately jabbed the demon with the prod a second time. It’s face changed again, and he turned over.
“You mother fucking cocksucker, I’ll-” Collin punched the demon in the face.
“Answer my fucking question.” The demon stared at Collin, silently. His eyes struck the Balance CO strangely. “If I like it, there’s five grand to be had.”
“Five grand.” The demon leapt to his feet. “You should have mentioned. I heard Paul a couple of months ago talking to someone, said he had these crystals and he didn’t know why. He just heard they were available and contracted them out, never knew what to do with them. When I heard he was dead I swiped em.”
“And where are they now?”
“I stashed them in a little hole I have, out back of where After Dark used to be.”
Collin smiled for half a second then reached into his coat, withdrawing an envelope, handing it to Ranthog.
“Thank you.” The demon took the money and ran. Collin turned to Wilson, waited for his XO to fall into step, then started for their car.
“He could be lying.” Wilson’s doubt made Collin smirk.
“I considered it. But he was smiling at the prod. The other face is the liar.” Collin looked at his cohort and watched him smile. “Send the others to the alley, run a scan. We’ll meet them there.”
Wilson was already on the phone when they reached the car.
1318 Poplar Avenue Apartments
9:31 AM
Tyler stood against a wall in the kitchen and watched his wife pacing in front of the TV. They didn’t speak on the drive home, and now she was venting, letting out her frustrations and grief. Tyler just hoped that Shawn wouldn’t come in. This wasn’t a discussion they needed to have right now.
“I mean for Christ’s sake, Tyler, this guy was you friend. You were closer with him than you ever were with Ryan!” Kelly stopped directly across from Tyler and rubbed at her eyes with her hand. “He had two kids. What the hell-“
“How many more times do I have to tell you, Kelly? The only reason any of our friends would be here is to kill us. If they were going to move on Brookes’s band, they’d have done it before. If there was something else here, they’d have done it before. Can we move to the present now?”
“Move to the…does this even matter to you?”
Tyler didn’t speak. He just looked at the floor, his shoulder moving like he’d been hit by a truck. Kelly crossed her arms over her chest and looked to the ceiling, annoyed with herself.
“Sorry.”
“No you’re not.” Tyler paused again, and Kelly didn’t speak. She thought he had more to say. “It’s not like I’m dancing about the fact that I just killed one of my friends and orphaned two kids. I do what has to be done.”
Kelly looked at Tyler, then sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She crosses the apartment and put a hand on Tyler’s shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze.
“What’s in the present?”
Tyler reached to his shoulder and squeezed Kelly’s hand lightly, then turned to face her.
“You, Shawn, and I, have to gear up, go across town, recon a location, then infiltrate and steal two crystals in the space of four hours.”
“Why?”
“Because I made a mistake two years ago.”
“Let’s run it.”
Port of Los Angeles
Balance Staging area
12:45 pm
Tyler Hyatt looked over his shoulder at a red assembly line house and took a quick measure of the security around it. He spotted two guards, two men of the six he’d have to deal with, hidden in the space between the it and the neighboring building, and told Kelly to keep driving. He didn’t want to be seen.
As she pulled away from the house, Tyler smirked to himself about his ex-comrades choice of local. The building looked like something out of a child’s drawing. It was an imperfect pentagon, with a narrow base and a roof pointing toward the heaven with the energy of a toddler marking the path to God. It might have been red one, but the paint had chipped down to the wood.
In his experience, Tyler remembered Collin Braddock as a finicky rich kid, forever determined to be in comfort so he could feel good while he outran whatever was at his back. There was no way that the rudimentary place he’d just seen could possibly meet his standards. It was hardly even defendable.
When Kelly pulled around her second corner, well out of the sight of any sentry, Tyler told her to stop. Staying in the car, he drew his Sig Sauer and screwed in the silencer, reholstering it when he finished. Turning to his wife and son, he pointed to an alley that would lead back to the staging area.
“I want you guys to wait here for the moment. In about five minutes go to the head of that alley. Take the M-4. Kelly, put fire on anyone you see that ain’t me. I’m expecting there to be six, and I only spotted two guards, but I could be wrong. Shawn?”
Tyler son whipped his head up and looked at his father. He looked to Tyler like a soldier, hard and ready to fight. He had no idea what was coming.
“Stay five yards back from your mother, cover her rear.” Tyler stopped himself from saying anything else, worried. He had every confidence that Kelly could handle herself. But Shawn, Shawn was still a child, but even he could hear Tyler’s apprehension at his involvement.
“Got it.” With the boy’s affirmation, Tyler opened the passenger side door and got out the car to make his approach.
When Tyler disappeared around a corner, Kelly turned to her son.
“You all right, Shawn?” Shawn nodded and turned his eyes to the alley. Unsatisfied, Kelly took his hand. “Tyler told me what happened with you two. I’m sorry I wasn’t.”
“He was right.”
“What?”
“He was right, I was wrong.” Shawn sighed, but didn’t look at his mother. “I’ve just been thinking what an ass I’ve been.”
“You’ve never…uh, he couldn’t tell you about it in Spain, Shawn. He could barely tell me. You were going off of what you knew.”
“Which was shit. Is still shit.” Shawn turned to Kelly and grinned for a second, but there was no mirth to it. “I’ve been thinking all day about how naïve I really am.”
Kelly moved her hand from Shawn’s hand and stroked her son’s cheek. “That’ll pass.”
“Yeah.” Shawn looked back at the alley. “I need to think about the-”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Tyler crept to the head of an alley and sprinted across the street, taking cover behind a parked car. He was half a block east of the Balance safe house, just inside his own range of sight. He could see a guard walking back and forth, appearing clearly just once every five seconds. When he disappeared, Tyler moved up, taking cover this time at another house. He repeated the process again, until he was close enough.
At that point, Tyler crept toward the rear of the street, moving around to the back of the target. When the guard turned, Tyler jumped out and fired four shots, tearing the guard’s back apart and dropping him to the ground. Tyler waited a moment, scanning the body and watching for the other guard, then left his pose and pulled the body out of sight. He dragged it back to the rear of the alley, and stuck the body past the next corner.
Leaving the dead guard, Tyler made his way back to the front of the building. He turned, crossing the face, and made his way past the door. Coming to the corner, he put his back to the wall, and peered around, looking for the guard. He saw nothing, and knew he’d been right.
Tyler ducked around the corner as the door opened. Two men, neither of whom he knew, came out, guns in hand and stopped on the sidewalk. One started to come toward Tyler as Kelly opened fire, hitting him. The second started to return fire, but Tyler dropped him in one shot, then charged the door, kicking it in.
Inside, Tyler wheeled toward a staircase and saw Wilson raising his USP toward Hyatt. Firing two shots, Tyler ran in toward a table that held an open case, a case in which Tyler could see crystals gleaming. Ducking behind it, he pulled a grenade, ran out, and threw it toward Wilson.
“Flashbang!” Wilson dove as he shouted, keeping Collin from harm. Free for the moment, Tyler went to the table, and looked in the case. His eyes locked on the crystals for half a second before Tyler closed it and ran. Wilson fired, missing Tyler twice, and started to chase him out the door.
“Car! Now!” Tyler shouted to Kelly as he ran from the building, through the alley, to the car, leaping over the hood to the driver’s side. Kelly climbed into the cart and they sped off.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
July 13th, 2007
11:40 PM
Bob's Bar
The night was like any other in the dingy, clandestine bar; men and demon alike, drinking and conversing on topics ranging from the warm LA weather, to the latest casualties in a brief gang war between a Thulac demon clan, and a new vampire gang. There was however, one small detail that seemed out of place in this horror/film noir setting. Over by the bar, a young “movie-starish” looking man was whispering quietly to the bar tender between sips of his Smirnoff Ice. At first, Bob had kept a watchful eye on the stranger, knowing that anyone who seemed that out of place could likely cause trouble, and tonight, he was just not in the mood to pick up splinters of broken tables. To the weasels surprise though, the blond haired beau was quiet, friendly and dropped lots and lots of 20$ during their brief conversation.
“So you sure you have no idea where he’s living these days?” the stranger asked disappointedly.
“I really would like to help you, but honestly he’s one of the only ones who doesn’t come in here often. You ask me, he’s the only decent one in the whole lot of ’em,” Bob replied, almost genuinely sad he couldn’t be of any help. It was such a relief to find a guy who didn’t try and beat the info out of him. Just then, the door opened revealing an older teen (still probably below the legal age though), who walked in nonchalantly, and took a seat at one of the free tables.
“Actually, maybe I can help you. See that guy over there,” Bob whispered as he leaned closer to the stranger, and pointed discretely to Kyle.
Several minutes and drinks later
A lonely vampiress was the only one to notice the teen exited the bathroom, his face lit up with a sly, mischievous smile. Most people wouldn’t have given it an extra thought, but then again, most people in the bar didn’t realize that the exact same kid was still sitting over on the other side of the room drinking a pint of Heineken.
Rubbing at her eyes, the vampires looked from the kid sitting at the table back to the bathroom. “What the fuck?” she mumbled, seeing only the good looking stranger that had come in earlier. She didn’t have much time to ponder the matter before a raging Minotaur, sporting a look of murderous rage busted from the bathroom. He took only a moment to scan the bar before charging over to Kyle’s table.
“How DARE you insult me Brat. Ill rip your limbs from the puny body!” he bellowed in outrage before slamming he gargantuan fist on the table.
Kyle leapt up from his seat, nearly jumping out of his skin, as the fist hit the table. His drink went flying one way, his cigarette the other. "Woah!" He yelled, eyes growing wide at the sight of the Minotaur. "Okay, dude. Sensing a little anger here. So lets just leave my puny body alone and stay away from my limbs, 'cos I need them y'know, and you go take a shower, yeah?"
The Kaoshian's lack of diplomatic skills weren't made clear to him until just after he had spoken. Probably at the point where the Minotaur picked him up and through him out of a window. Or maybe when he hit the ground and saw the beast storming out after him. But that's not the point. What mattered was that Kyle was up the proverbial river without armbands, let alone a damned paddle.
He pulled himself to his feet, brushing off glass and coughing. *Aw, hell. Another damn minotaur. How the hell am I going to kill this one? Okay, weapons, nope, iron torch holder? Nope. Shit.* "Okay, you giant, evil half-man half-bull thing, lets do this."
The minotaur roared and barreled towards Kyle, sending him flying again. He rolled to his feet and ducked the tree-trunk size arm that was hurtling towards him. Kyle got a punch in here and there, but even with his fire blazing he could barely scratch the beast. In return, the minotaur was battering him. It may be that he was a little drunk, but Kyle was certain this minotaur was a lot tougher than the one he beat up in his head. *I guess my imagination chose a watered-down minotaur. Great, now I'm gonna get killed by the pure 100% version. Or it could be that, y'know, it WAS in my head.*
Fights like this were a common occurrence in the bar, so the remaining patrons barely batted an eye to the scene, and continued on drinking, all save for the stranger. Pleased by his handiwork, the man casually moved outside, and waited patiently as the minotaur pounded the poor boy down.
After maybe a minute (or two..whatever) the man finally decided it was time to step in and save the kid.
Just as the beast was lifting Kyle one handed by the throat, he felt a light tap on his back.
“Uhh excuse me, maybe you could put the boy down,” the man asked politely as the enraged monster turned around.
“Stupid human, do not interfere!” he bellowed, as he tightened his grip around Kyle’s neck.
Turning his gaze to Kyle’s now purple face, the man smiled pleasantly. “Well he cant say I didn’t ask nicely.” In the blink of an eye, the mans fist shot out, slamming into the minotaur’s shoulder blade, connecting with a sickening crack. Howling in pain, the demon’s grip finally broke, allowing Kyle to fall back to the ground. The boy stared in amazement, as the not so tough looking man pounded into the much larger beast before viciously grabbing his head, and with a swift twist, snapped its neck.
“Hope you’re not to badly hurt there buddy,” the man said turning his attention to Kyle, and extending him a hand to help him up.
Kyle ignored the hand and got up on his own, fuming at the interference of this guy. "Even though he did just save ya life." Hayden was quick to point out, popping out of nowhere.
The Kaoshian gave his 'savior' a quick look over. "Yeah I'm just peachy, buddy. I ain't no boy, so why don't you get your pretty-boy ass out of here before I kick it?"
“Wow you think I’m a pretty boy, kid you just made my day,” he replied distractedly, as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a window of the nearby building. After taking a second to fix his hair, he turned back to Kyle. “Now really, calm down. See, Bob told me you kinda know someone I’m looking for, and its reallllllly important I see him soon,” he replied more seriously, his unnaturally purple eyes silently pleading with Kyle.
Kyle frowned at the sight of those eyes. "Yeah, Darian's got them too." Hayden answered for him, leaning over Kyle's shoulder and peering as well.
"Who are you after, and why is it so important?" Kyle asked, not letting his guard down even though the guy seemed...'friendly'.
Inwardly, the man smiled. *I like this kid, he’s got spunk* “Well you see to make along story short, he, and I are in a lot of danger from a maniacal, steroid-filled, Terminator wannabe, So if its not to much to ask can we get a move on?”
“You still haven’t said exactly who you’re looking for,” the teen replied, although pretty sure of the answer.
“Oh right, woops. I’m looking for my brother….Darian.”
“Your brother?” Kyle answered, somewhat taken off guard. Darian had never mentioned siblings, especially one who was also half-fae.
“Yeah kid, its along story. Ill explain it on the way,” the man smiled. “And by the way, the names Loki.”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
July 14th
12:23 AM
Darian rubbed the back of his neck as he quietly walked up the stairs of the apartment. He had been reckless in tonight’s hunting, his mind constantly wandering to other things…well really only one thing: Liala. Ever since she had resurfaced outside the White Hat meeting, he couldn’t stop thinking about her (and that lack of concentration cost him some heavy hits which he would no doubt feel the next morning). On the bright side, he was only a few steps away from his apartment, and more importantly, his bed. Yep, a good night’s sleep was exactly what he needed right about now.
Pushing open his apartment door, all his hopes of getting some rest and relaxation melted away in the blink of an eye.
“Hey D-Man, did ya miss me?!” Loki smiled, turning abruptly from the fridge where he was helping himself to left over Chinese food. The villain’s grin grew as he noticed the look on Darian’s face.
“Loki, what the fu-” he started, before noticing Kyle was standing on the other side of the counter, within arms reach of the former assassin. “Kyle get away from him!” Darian called out worriedly, knowing first hand how dangerous the man could be.
Kyle barely had time to take in everything that was happening before Loki sprung into action, wrapping a surprisingly strong arm around the boy, and pulling him back. “Not so fast there buddy”. Before the Kaoshian could switch into flame mode and break free, Loki leaned in close to Kyle.
“Shhhhhhhhhhhh,” he purred softly into the teen’s ear, the magic of his voice enchanting Kyle’s mind and body. Slowly, the dark fae gently released his hold around the boy, pleased to see that the young demon remained motionless. “Pretty cool huh?” he finally said, turning back to Darian.
“Let him go!” Darian commanded, though he remained motionless, not wanting to entice Loki into doing anything rash.
“Not until you agree to help me.”
“Help you!? You’re a fucking maniac, why would I help you!?”
Loki feigned a hurt look. “Now why do you have to do that? Name calling is just bad manners,” he replied calmly. The assassin moved his attention back to Kyle, who unfortunately was still frozen. “Good looking kid. Got that kinda rugged ‘rebel without a cause look to him’ don’t you think? And on top of good looks, he’s a half demon, now isn’t that something?” Loki went on, putting his arm around Kyle’s shoulder as if he were a statue. “Now wouldn’t it be a shame if something bad were to happen to him? I mean he’s probably got such a bright future ahead of him.”
Darian’s eyes grew in fright as Loki placed one hand across Kyle’s jaw and the other on top back of his head. “Now you’re going to agree to help me or…” slowly, fae twisted Kyle’s head sideways so the boys blank gaze was looking towards Darian. “Please Darian,” Loki said imitating Kyle’s voice as he moved his jaw up and down, “I don’t want my neck snapped off.”
“Ok, please, just don’t hurt him. Ill do what you want,” Darian surrendered, seeing no other option.
“Good man. Now, you swear on your gallant good guy honour that if I let him go you won’t go back on your word?”
“I swear, now let him go!” Darian repeated, praying silently for Kyle’s safety.
With a rough push, the dark fae sent Kyle’s body flying forwards which Darian rushed to grab before it fell to the floor. “Ok now that the pleasantries are out of the way, ill let you know exactly what it is you’re going to help me with. PAY ATTENTION!” Loki snapped, seeing Darian’s attention was focused on the boy, the fae using his own magic to undo Loki’s hypnosis. “Now Darian don’t go all wonked out, but what would you say if I told you that we’ve got a new addition to our little family?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Darian replied over Kyle’s groggy moans.
“Well D-Man, the lovely Order who created us weren’t content with there two lovely sons, so they decided to try and make another baby. Thing is, this time, they fucked up royally.”
Darian pondered the words for a moment. “So you mean there’s another half fae? Even if, what does this have to do with me?”
“Well here’s the kicker,” Loki said, before taking another bite of the Chinese food he had been munching on earlier. “The spell didn’t hold like with you or I. Something happened, and whatever they created is big, powerful, mean, and bent on, for whatever reason, killing my kind. Since you’re the only one like me, I’m assuming you fall under that category also.
“You know what I think?” Darian whispered, taking one final look down to make sure Kyle was ok. “I think you’re full of shit!”
A loud buzz filled the room, as blue lightening crackled out of Darian’s fingertips, slamming through Loki’s body, and sending him crashing against the wall.
“You lying bastard!” Loki hissed, as he tried to shake off the pain of the blast. “What kind of hero goes back on his promise?! That…that…that’s just not how things are done!”
Darian let loose another bolt, but Loki was quick to dodge, blending into shadows, only to reappear behind Darian. With a swift kick to the back, it was now Loki’s turn to send Darian flying forwards near the opened window overlooking the street. Darian groaned in pain, as Loki’s fists came slamming into his lower back, causing waves of agony to shoot through his spine.
“You should have just helped me,” Loki taunted, before landing another kick straight between the good fae’s shoulder blades. The force of the impact was enough to send Darian hurtling straight out the window, and down onto the pavement below.
Kyle came to slowly, feeling like he’d just awakened from a refreshing sleep. “Well, as being knocked unconscious goes, that wasn’t too bad.”
“Yeah, and ya’ve been gettin’ a hell of a lot of practice recently. Take a look over here, bro.” Hayden beckoned from where he stood at the window.
Getting to his feet, Kyle joined him. In the street below, Darian and Loki were leaping around like something out of Star Wars or the Matrix. “Aw, hell. I suppose I better go join them.”
“Yeah, ya should.” Hayden agreed, but Kyle was already halfway out the apartment. “Better be quick, they be moving real fast.” The demon hit the stairs running.
A few minutes later.
Darian and Loki were so focused on combat that they didn’t notice that the Kaoshian had finally caught up with them, let alone the mysterious shift in mystical currents that had just swept the area.
“So, the little gnat has led me to more of his rotten kind,” A monstrous voice boomed, causing the two fighters, and the teen to freeze in their tracks. From the shadows of a building emerged a Titan of a man, his massive frame towering almost a foot above the others.
“Who the hell is that?” Darian asked, for the first time, turning his attention away from Loki.
“That, D-Man” Loki responded fearfully, as he began to back away from where the strange man had appeared from, “is our not-so-little brother”.
Reintroducing HHH as Kronor
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
July 14th
12:44 AM
Darian stared in awe at the stranger who had appeared from the shadows, his gaze instantly drawn to the man’s purple eyes; eyes only Loki and he had. It was true, the Order of the Fae had cursed another man with their magics.
Despite the aura of raw power and anger the stranger exuded, Darian took a slow step forwards. “I know, what happened to you, it’s strange, scary…but,” Darian said, only to be abruptly cut off by the man’s booming laugh.
“You know nothing. You are like the other,” the giant bellowed, looking over to Loki for a moment, “a filthy bastard child between our disgusting races, a sick creation of mortal magic. The only thing we share is this disgusting human hide.”
“See what I mean Darian, a big ol’ steaming pot of crazy he is,” Loki piped in, still keeping his distance from the big man.
Ignoring the trickster inappropriate comment, Darian once again tried to reason. “That’s only the faery inside you talking. But you can keep control. Your human side is still in there.”
The stranger’s eyes turned downcast, as if contemplating his words. *Maybe I’m getting through to him” Darian thought as he took another step, placing him within arms reach of the stranger. “I’ve been through the changes you’re going through now, I can help you through this,” he said comfortingly, as he placed a supportive hand on the man’s massive shoulder.
Before Darian even knew what was happening to him, the stranger’s meaty, bear-like paw shot out, clutching painfully around his neck and jaw. “You’re disgusting and weak! The human spirit that occupied this shell has long been extinguished, and only I, Kronor remain,” he said lifting Darian easily from the ground.
“Dude,” Kyle uttered, bringing attention to himself, perhaps unwisely, at last – having just caught his breath from chasing after the two madly leaping fae. “Remind me never to go to one of your family reunions.”
“Um…dude?” Hayden asked expectantly, nodding towards where Kronor was holding Darian.
Sudden realization spread across Kyle’s face. “Oh, right. Gotcha.” He leapt forward, his demon appearance bursting out in a blaze of fire. Grabbing on to the arm, the Kaoshian let his fiery finger tips burn a little, then winked. “Let go.”
A blast of black energy erupted from the palm of hand that had been holding Darian, sending the fae, flying backwards. “A little firefly thinks he can stop me?” the behemoth thundered, totally unharmed by the Kaoshian’s fire. With horrible strength, Kronor backhanded Kyle, the blow sending him reeling next to where Darian was still choking for air.
At first, Loki’s initial reaction was to run, far far away. He had gone one on one with Kronor once before, he had no intention to get his clock cleaned again, but then it occurred to him. The monster would chase him once he had disposed of Darian and his fiery sidekick, so he stood a better chance now, with 2 ‘allies’ than alone later on.
“Did anyone ever tell you you look like a cracked out Fabio” Loki taunted as he ran forward, jumping at the last minute. The speed of his attack actually caught Kronor off guard, and for the first time, the big man grunted, as Loki soared over him, kicking at the back of his head as he went by. “Ha score one for the Lokster!”
Kronor said nothing, as he twirled around, allowing another blast of energy to escape his hand, this one slamming Loki into the brick wall of a nearby building.
“Kyle,” Darian gasped through forced breaths, as he struggled to get back to his feet. “Get out of here now.”
Kyle rubbed his head. “Oh, right. Now you tell me; after I’ve been bitch-slapped by the walking mountain.” He climbed to his feet and spat out a mouthful of blood, possibly a tooth, too. “No can do, Darian. Me and this son of a bitch are gonna rumble.”
“Headstrong, I’ll take you on. Headstrong, I’ll take on anyone…” Hayden sang quietly to himself, then sighed and gave up trying to get his point across. “What is with you and Davaid vs Goliath situations these days?”
“How do you know who David or Goliath is?” The demon muttered as he ran past the ghost and leapt into a flying kick at Kronor.
Kronor stumbled back, but only a few inches, before he took several swipes at Kyle, which the teen luckily dodged.
“Do you always have to argue!?” Darian huffed, as he joined in the fray, ducking under punches as he unleashed his own attack. The two battered on Kronor, but it was like waves slamming against the walls of a stone cliff-rather useless.
“Aww Darian, as noble and hero-ish as always, remind me to puke when this is over,” Loki joked, as he began kicking Kronor from the back.
“I grow tired of this game!” Kronor growled, as his body began glowing a bright red as magical energy surrounded him, before exploding outwards. Kyle was fortunate enough to duck beneath the ring of magic, but Darian and Loki caught it square in the chest, the force of the flare knocking them back.
The Koashian looked left, then right, then realised he was standing alone before the creature. “Okay, pal. So you’re a little resistant to fire, eh?. Screw you.” He held up his middle finger, the one with the ring on that Cole gave him, and smiled.
Nothing happened. Hayden sighed and held his head in his hands. “It was ‘vulcanus succendo’, not ‘screw you’.
“Oh, right. I knew that.” Kyle muttered. “Vulcanus succendo!” He yelled. A massive fireball burst from his finger, slamming right into the middle of Kronor’s chest and exploding. Both Darian and Loki, knocked to the floor, looked away and Kyle threw an arm over his eyes. When the light began to fade, Kyle folded his arms across his chest. “Now that, boys and girls, is how you kill one big, nasty muther-
His vision returned, and Kronor was still standing before them. Or more specifically, before Kyle. “Aw, fu-“
Kronor’s face was grimacing in obvious pain, as he tried to shake away the effects of the spell. “So the firefly has a sting. Unfortunately for you however, so do I.”
The towering juggernaught’s eyes shifted from purple to black, as his gaze locked onto Kyle’s eyes. “You fought well young one, but here is your end!”
The teen’s eyes began to dilate black, as his body began to slowly shutter back and forth. Before he knew what had happened, Kyle’s vision blanked, and he fell the floor in uncontrollable spasms.
“KYLE!” Darian screamed, forcing himself to his feet and rushing over to his friends side. “Kyle, Kyle!” he frantically shook the boy trying to wake him, but it was no use, Kyle’s mind was far far away.
“What have you done to him you monster!” The fae roared, as he looked up at Kronor who was now towering over the two of them.
The mountainous man smiled smugly. “He has been touched by darkness. His mind will subject him to the horrors he fears until his body gives out. He will suffer till his dying breath!”
“no…No….NO!!!!!” the fae screamed, as he let go of Kyle’s shaking form, and recklessly hurled himself at Kronor. The titan was now reeling from Darian’s furious barrage, but even so, he was still much stronger than his enemy.
“Your emotions give you strength, but they will not save you,” Kronor said, as his massive fist flew upwards in a vicious uppercut which cut Darian right below the chin. Blood flew from his mouth, as his body crashed to the unforgiving ground.
“Aww crappo on a stick,” Loki huffed to himself, as he saw the scene unfold. The kid was KOed, Darian was down for the count, and every bone in his body screamed in pain. *This is really not how I wanted to go out* he thought disappointedly, as he noticed Kronor trudging towards him.
Suddenly, Loki felt a refreshing breeze as a cloud of thick mist seemed to appear between him and Kronor.
“What the-“ Even more surprising, the mist began to grow upwards finally taking the form of a young, beautiful woman.
“A real fae, in the mortal realm!” Kronor cackled happily. “You’re blood will quench my thirst for revenge far more than these halfbreeds!”
Without a single word she gently raised her hand, opened her palm before her lips and blew softly over it. Out of no where, blue crystals flew forth sparkling into the night before surrounding the beast.
“Freeze” she whispered to the night, commanding her spell to take hold. The tiny crystals began to grow, covering Kronor in an icy tomb. Turning quickly back to Loki, she called forth more magic, quickly mending his cuts and scrapes.
“We must hurry and leave this place,” she said quietly.
“I’m not arguing with that one,” Loki started happily, until he realized that the ice had already cracked away, and Kronor was free once more. “Look out!”
It was too late to dodge, as a blast of energy smashed into Liala and him.
“You’re magic is stronger than the two mangrels undine, but I am as far beyond you as you are above these mortals.” He raised another hand to shoot force another bolt.
“Shut the hell up!” Darian hissed. The fae had regained his composure, and snuck up behind Kronor, wrapping him in a bearhug. He held on with all his supernatural might, but he and Kronor both knew he could not restrain him for long. The sight of Liala brought a sudden rush of emotions, but in a time like this, he had no time to sort any of them out.
“Take Kyle and leave!” he screamed, his hold already beginning to break.
“My Love, you cannot defeat Kronor alone!” Liala called back worriedly.
Darian huffed, as he toiled to keep Kronor restrained for awhile longer. “If you do really still love me, get Kyle to safety and help him!” Darian cried out, as he pulled back and he and Kronor stumbled backwards, crashing through the window of the closed bakery behind them.
Fighting the urge to help her former lover, Liala, with Loki on her heels, rushed to the teen’s side. “This is very bad,” she said taking note of Kyle’s condition.
“Yeah well, I’m out of here,” Loki said, as he began to leave.
“Where are you going, I’m not strong enough to move the boy!” she cried out, surprised at Loki’s cowardly actions.
“So leave the kid here, that ain’t my prob.”
Liala’s eyes glowed a furious blue, as she scowled at the half fae. “You will help me move him, or ill turn you into an out of season ice sculpture!”
Loki gulped, before awkwardly moving back to Kyle, and scooping the shaking teen in his arms. “Jeez, you could have just said please” he mumbled, as he took off down the street.
Liala hesitated before following, caught between doing as Darian had told her, and helping her love.
“You heard D-man, you have to help this kid, I sure as hell can’t cure him!” Loki called out, finally jostling Liala into action. With one final glance, she looked back at the building Darian and Kronor were no doubt taking apart in their battle. “Darian…” she whispered pathetically, as the bakery roof came crashing down in the distance. Fighting back the tears, she continued on, following the dark fae off to safety.
Reintroducing Estella Warren as Liala
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Saturday, 14th July 2007 – 12:48am
1318 Poplar Avenue
Tash sifted through the pile of relics on the floor before her and handed one to Oz. It was a small, gilt-framed icon depicting a man holding a cross and a scroll. She had asked him over this evening to help her sort through some of Victor’s uncatalogued artefacts; given Oz’s nature she had separated out a series of items that seemed to have religious connections in the hope that Oz might identify some of them, at least. Now it was well past midnight, but Oz seemed not the least bit tired nor bored with the task before him. Quite the opposite, in fact. He reached for each new treasure eagerly, examining everything carefully before giving his opinion.
“How about this one? It looks hand painted, and if that’s not gold leaf I’ll eat it – but beyond that I’ve got no clue,” she said to him as he peered at the small, detailed painting.
Oz examined the small hand painted wooden icon. He turned it in his hands. He examined the edges of it and found what he was looking for. “See this edging? It’s paper with the painting on top of it. That would make this an icon of Saint Alexios.” He explained how Alexios was a man who fled his family to follow God but returned as a beggar. He sat on his father’s doorstep for many years until after his death they found a piece of paper on him that identified him.
“...he was canonized by Pope Honorius.” Oz pitched the icon aside. “Of course it’s probably worthless. Unless it were mounted on a piece of the ‘True Cross’ or something.” Oz glanced back over at the icon. He picked it up and set it on another pile. “Better have it carbon dated anyway. If it is Alexios it should only date after the 4th century,” he said.
Oz turned to dig through another pile of unsorted junk. “How many years did you say Victor accumulated this stuff? Did he ever throw any of it out?”
Tash laughed. “This is barely scratching the surface of the stuff he’s got. Most of the collection fills a couple of good-sized vaults. This lot,” Tash waved her arm over the huge stacks of knick-knacks, baubles, and the occasional rare or magical item, “is maybe one percent of the unsorted items.” She sighed, “It’s been a huge job, and I must say I’m grateful for your help. Even an idea of what we need to look at closer is… what the hell is going on out there?”
A ruckus had been growing steadily louder as Tash spoke, and the sound of a nearby explosion was the last straw. Without hesitation, Tash stood and moved around the apartment, gathering up her weapons – just in case. Given her line of work and who her neighbours were, there was nothing worse than turning up to a disturbance under-prepared.
Oz followed behind her, pausing only briefly to collect a wicked-sharp cutlass with a tassel of human hair on the hilt from the pile of weapons that he saw stuffed in an umbrella stand. He swung it one and nodded at the fine craftsmanship. An engraving on the side said “To Victor, Thanks for the laughs. Edward Teach.”
*Blackbeard? Surely not.* Oz jogged to catch up with Tash who was marching down the stairs to investigate.
Nodding to herself in approval as she heard Oz’s footsteps close behind her, Tash barrelled down the last of the stairs and flung open the front door of the brownstone, only to pull up short. Her expression of startlement mirrored those on the two faces before her. One was Darian’s old flame Liala, and the other…
“You!”
Tash lunged towards Loki, fury contorting her features into a snarl. The only thing stopping her from tackling him where he stood was the fact that he was holding Kyle’s twitching body. That, and Liala’s hand outstretched in a gesture of warning.
“Ok, you’ve got two seconds to tell me what the fuck is going on,” Tash demanded.
“Control your anger mortal,” Liala replied sternly, feeling the intense emotion the woman felt at the sight of the other half fae. “We must take this boy to safety soon, or he will not make it past this night.”
“Yeah Tashy-kins, we’re in a bit of a hurry,” Loki said, his smile growing from ear to ear as the situation unfolded. He knew very well how much she hated him, and how, right now, she had no choice but to be civil to him. “But I mean, you could still say ‘hi’; it’s only polite.”
“How do I know you didn’t do this to Kyle yourself, you murderous bastard?” Tash refused to budge, her fists clenching at her side. “Oz, maybe we should take Kyle…” Tash paused, lifting her head at the sounds of struggle that filtered through the open door of the apartment building. Casting out her senses, she felt the unmistakeable presence of Darian not far from her, and something else – something powerful.
Her eyes narrowed even further as she ignored Loki and spoke to the arrogant female fae. “What’s going on out there? I might be able to help, but only if you tell me right now.”
Oz stepped out into the street and looked back at the woman and Kyle. Knowing Kyle like he did he figured whatever took him out wasn’t that skinny kid with the woman. “I am going up to take a look,” he said, igniting his wings and launching into the air. “I’ll be right back.”
From above, he couldn’t see anything useful except for a dust settling around an abandoned building. Oz circled the wreckage but didn’t see anyone moving and so he returned to Poplar Avenue to report.
Liala huffed as she pushed through Tash, grabbing hold of Loki’s arm and pulling him along inside the apartment. “This building is filled with magics, Kronor will not find us here,” she said, extending her arm outwards as if actually able to touch the arcane power. After a moment, the undine turned her attention to Loki, still ignoring Tash completely.
“Put the boy down carefully,” she ordered as she bent down on both knees in front of where Loki laid out Kyle. A soft blue glow surrounded the fae before gently cascading down on the shaking teen.
“Wowser, did you see how she just ignored you like that?” Loki commented, moving obnoxiously close to Tash as he watched on with amusement.
Tash graced Loki with a withering look, then turned to Oz who was just returning down the hallway. “Well?” she asked, perhaps a bit more curtly than she intended; both Loki and Liala had pissed her off royally.
Oz felt as if he’d missed something and judging from the range of smirks, disdain and anger on the faces of the people in the room he counted himself lucky. “There has been a building collapse a couple of blocks away, but I didn’t see any survivors. I heard fire trucks and ambulances in the distance. Were you there?” He directed the question at the woman and boy.
“Oz, it was Darian. I'm sure I felt him. But even if these two,” she gestured derisively over her shoulder, “don't give a fuck about finding him, I want to see what I can do. It felt like he was facing something big.”
She checked her weapons and began to stride purposefully to the front door. “Come on, Oz. We can take Kolya’s car – maybe I’ll sense Darian again.”
“Wait!” Liala commanded, turning briefly from Kyle to conjure another spell. With a wave of her hand the air in front of the exit began to ripple like water touched by a stone. “If you leave now to face Kronor, you will not survive let alone save Darian,” she said angrily, now rising to her feet.
At this point Tash was opening her mouth to reply, but the fae quickly cut her off. “Be still, human,” she whispered melodiously, her mystical voice soothing the huntress’ body into temporary paralysis. “Now watch.”
Liala gently removed one of Tash’s ever-present gloves and took her ebony hands in her own. To the woman’s surprise, visions did not flash by as normal but instead replayed slowly, each one controlled by the faerie’s magic. From the moment Liala had arrived up till the present second, the scene unfolded, explaining things better than words ever could.
And with the visions came Liala’s emotions, an almost overwhelming wave of concern and love for Darian. Retracting her hand, the fae simply turned back to Kyle. “Never presume that I do not care for him,” she whispered, before turning her healing powers back on the boy.
“What? I missed that! Huh?” Oz was completely lost. From his point of view the woman had grabbed Tash’s hand and then made her comment. “Someone needs to give me more than a ‘knowing look’ to catch me up.”
Freed from her temporary torpor, Tash blinked and slowly answered Oz. “Uh, we had a psychic communion, basically. Liala here showed me what happened. There’s a big, nasty fae out there hot for Darian’s blood. And Loki’s and Liala’s too, which is presumably why Loki has come running back with his tail between his legs.” Tash ignored the trickster’s answering sneer.
She waited impatiently while Liala finished her healing spell over Kyle. “Ok, so this Kronor guy’s too big and tough for just me and Oz. Kyle will be all right now, right? So let’s go.”
“Uhh, who said I am going anywhere?” Loki piped up, trying to back out of the building before hitting Liala’s rippling barrier. The half-fae’s shoulders slumped in defeat until his eyes fell on Oz, whom he had just noticed for the first time. “And who is this new addition to your little band of heroes?” Loki questioned, his smile turning sly. “Why don’t you two gals go save big bro, we can hold down the fort here.”
The tone of Loki’s voice made Oz’s skin crawl. No doubt he was fae as well and clearly Tash didn't trust him as far as she could... well, she could probably throw the thin boy a fair distance but that was no reason to trust him. “Look, the longer we wait the further away from the site Darian and this bruiser get. The sooner we move the less time he will have to torture,” Oz looked at Loki’s lewd sneer, “or violate him.”
Oz paused at the barrier blocking the door. “This little display is pretty and all, but we can discuss strategy along the way.”
The undine’s breath was coming in quick paces, the strain of dispelling Kronor’s enchantment obviously taking its toll on her. “Saving the child has drained much of my magics. I need to rest before we can go.”
Oz sat down heavily in the living room. “Well if the kid is out and the woman is tired, I guess we have time for stories. What is a Kroner?”
Tash rolled her eyes. Oz was right, the longer they waited the more likely it was Darian would be dead by the time they found him. Muttering to herself, she paced up and down the hallway between Darian’s apartment and the barrier across the building’s entrance.
“Kronor,” Liala corrected, before taking a seat. “The beast is a curse, a dark creation my kind unknowingly unleashed upon the world.”
“Vague much?” Loki replied, slumping down into a chair next to Oz’s.
“Long before the age of man,” Liala went on, ignoring Loki, “my kind waged a great war against a horrific army of evil. Ghouls, goblins, trolls, and ogres ravaged the borders of Avalon, threatening to eradicate the fae kingdoms. The threat was so great that even the Nero’Val, the dark fae as you know them, joined with the other faeries in the massive struggle. As time passed, it seemed that the tide was turning against us and it was then that the kings and queens of our world took action to save us. The four strongest and bravest fae warriors were chosen. Into them was poured the strength and magic of each of our races and so the four Sereyn’Vals were created, the fae of war.
“The juggernauts of destruction ravaged the demon army and it was not long before we completely subdued the threat, banishing the evil from Avalon. When the war was over, all but one of the Sereyn’Val relinquished their powers, all save Kronor. He argued that he was a saviour of our race and thus deserved to keep the gifts bestowed on him. When kings and queens persisted he went on a rampage, slaying several fae. The royal families were left with no choice but to bind Kronor’s spirit in a limbo between our worlds, forever doomed to purgatory. There he remained for countless millennia until you mortals interfered with your magic, and brought him through the threshold. Now, it seems Kronor wants revenge on our kind for enslaving him.”
“That means Kronor was designed specifically to destroy immortals. This is way out of my league these days. Maybe if I was still an angel I might have a chance, but right now I’m not going to be more than a tic-tac to this guy,” Oz chimed in.
“Well, if we’re lucky he might be allergic to peppermint.” Tash rested against the doorway to Darian’s apartment, her arms folded. She couldn’t help but notice how Liala tried to lay the blame for Kronor’s appearance at their feet – never mind that it was the fae who’d made him in the first place – but she was damned if she’d get into that argument right now. Instead she said, “Okay, so he’s a tough nut. How do we kill him? Everyone has a weak spot.”
“Uhhh ex-squeeze me, but I’ve actually fought him – twice,” Loki cut in, a serious looking crossing his face. “And that walking Mount Everest does NOT have one. So instead of going on a suicide mission, I say we make a nice pot of coffee, say some nice things in Darian’s memory, and move on with our lives, what do you all think?”
Oz got angry, “Howabout we have a two for one funeral instead. I am not willing to give up on him because you got your ass whupped.”
Matching Oz’s ire, Tash chimed in, “And never mind that while we’ve been sitting here all cosy and having a lovely chit-chat, Darian's probably been turned into a little pile of bloody goo by now. Gee, maybe we should all just forget about it and head off to sleep?”
She slammed her fist against the wall and glared at Liala. “So why don’t you just drop that damn forcefield of yours and we can work out how to deal with Kronor while we look for Darian. We can even drum up some extra bodies if we need them. I’m not without resources, you know. But frankly, it seems to me that time seriously isn’t on our side.”
Oz took up the rally. He stood by the broken window. “I can get Alessa and the Demon Police right now, just say the word.”
“The half breed is right, Kronor has no weak point,” Liala said harshly, annoyed that Tash didn’t already understand the plan she was formulating. *Pshh… she’s only a mortal. How could I expect her to?*
“So there you have it folks. It’s game over, the big bad wins for once,” Loki replied happily, thinking this would settle the matter.
“I said Kronor has no weak point,” the undine retorted harshly, “but the mortal vessel he occupies does. You,” she continued pointing at Tash, “you are gifted with psychic abilities. If we channel our powers together we can separate his fae psyche from the human aura. By dislodging the two temporarily, we can destroy the host and banish Kronor’s spirit back to limbo.”
“Great,” Tash nodded. “Sounds good to me. The boys can hold him down while we play with his mind.” She glanced askance at Liala for a moment. “I suppose we’ll need to establish a psychic rapport before we start – are you sure you can bear to contaminate yourself with a mere human’s mind?”
Oz listened to the plan but felt he had to add something to it, “Loki, you have magic, right? Juggernauts tend to be lopsidedly specific in what they can withstand. Since plenty of demons have mental attacks I can only bet that a mental-only assault would be easily defeated. But if that mental assault were accompanied by a physical and magical assault simultaneously then it might spread his defences very thin.”
Loki’s face turned frightened as he saw where the conversation was headed. “And who exactly said I was going to help in this shindig? Like honestly, I feel a cold coming on, and I really think that it would be wise for me to just go and get some rest and..."
“You WILL help, half breed. I saved you from Kronor so you are in my debt. And if you decide not to help, and Darian does not survive, you will wish Kronor finds you before I do,” the undine threatened.
“Hell hath no fury eh?” Loki commented to Oz, finally accepting he wouldn’t find a way out.
“And as for you,” she went on, turning to Tash, “you will simply act as a catalyst for my power. As talented as you may be for a human, you simply do not have the strength to undo the magic that binds their two minds together.”
Just then, a groggy groan escaped the Kaoshian’s lips as he began to stir and wake. “We must leave before the boy awakens or else he will want to join the battle, and such is not suitable for one so young,” she finished, finally dispelling the magic that blocked the exits.
Oz picked up a piece of notepaper from next to the telephone while the women were having whatever passed for a pissing contest among the ladies. He wrote down Tash’s cellphone number and a quick synopsis. *Too young my ass; I’d rather have his fire up my ass than that skinny prick Loki any day,* he thought. He planned to drop the note in Kyle’s pocket as they left.
*A simple catalyst, eh? You might get a surprise yet, you uppity bitch.* Tash kept her thoughts to herself as she turned on her heel and headed for the now-accessible door. “I don’t imagine we want to take all night by walking everywhere. I have a car available that’s up to this job. I suggest we use it.”
Tash gestured to the Monte Carlo parked outside and got in the driver’s seat. She hadn’t had much of a chance to take Kolya’s car for a spin since he’d left it with her and tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity. If nothing else, she knew it was well-armoured. Knowing its origins, Tash suspected it might have one or two tricks up its sleeve but Kolya hadn’t really said anything about it.
She gestured for Oz to get in the front seat beside her, and glanced over her shoulder at Liala. “Well, you’re the fae. I’m guessing you must have some fancy way of tracking Darian. Which way?”
Liala pointed down the street. Tash nodded and left a smoking trail on the road, the squeal of her tyres causing the local dogs to start barking. A couple of doors down, a man’s voice yelled in anger at this final straw and something heavy crashed onto the pavement as he threw it at one of the offending creatures. By then, the Monte Carlo was long gone.
Warnings - Part One
Tuesday, 10th July 2007 – 4:57pm
Los Angeles Police Department
Galen dropped the file on his desk and rubbed his eyes. He was tired but thankfully he would be ready to head off home in just over half an hour. It had been a busy day, not made any easier by the fact that his so-called partner was never anywhere to be found.
He glanced at the empty desk that faced his own, cluttered with neglected memos and half-empty coffee cups. Tony was apparently on some undercover operation involving one of the local street gangs – the details were ‘strictly confidential’ but Galen was beginning to wonder if maybe Tony had taken on too much, either that or he was playing hooky somewhere – the kid hadn’t been in contact for days. But then it seemed to be a habit of Tony’s, of disappearing for days and then reappearing with a stack of surveillance or a signed confession from some drug dealer tucked under his arm. God only knew what he got up to on his own – Galen was starting to understand why nobody ever wanted to be partnered with him and thought maybe it was the Chief’s idea of irony.
In a bid to alleviate his growing fatigue, Galen walked over to the coffee machine and poured himself out a cup, snagging the milk and tipping the contents into his mug. Several solid lumps landed in the hot black liquid with a rancid ’PLOP’.
Galen looked disgusted. “For the last time guys!” he snapped angrily to the noisy station room as he tossed the soured milk in the trash, “put the goddamn carton back in the fridge after you’ve finished with it!” He scowled at the ruined cup of coffee, sighing as he poured it into the bin along with the milk.
“Well that’s just perfect,” he muttered irritably.
“Hey, Eldridge!” sounded a voice from across the station room, interrupting Galen’s joyless mood. The voice belonged to a young rookie by the name of Eric Walsh, his ruddy farm-boy features coming into view as he jogged around the desks to where Galen stood.
“Hey, you’ve got a visitor,” he announced breathlessly as though he’d ran all the way from wherever he’d been hiding himself. “Some guy from the FBI wants to talk to you, he’s waiting in Interview Room 4.”
“Thanks,” replied Galen with a slight frown as he headed off in that direction. His thoughts accumulated inside his head as he walked down the corridor, normally if somebody had some information for him they just waited at his workstation and informants always called before ‘dropping by’. He paused for a moment outside the interview room, preparing himself before pushing the door open.
There stood inside a rather solemn looking figure, a tall wiry man with jet-black hair and a stiffly pressed pin stripe suit. He stood with his back to the entrance, reaching up as he unplugged the security camera. Galen raised a speculative eyebrow before shutting the door with deliberate noise to gain the man’s attention.
“Lucky?” said Galen in surprise as the tall stranger turned around. He hadn’t recognised his former MJ12 colleague at first, his pristine suit and closely cut hair style all screamed ‘government official’ but were very unlike the man who had forged a reputation on flying by the seat of his pants.
Galen observed his old friend closely, ever since he’d left Majestic he hadn’t heard a single word from his fellow operatives, nor had he ever expected to. Such contact was never allowed apart from in ‘exceptional circumstances’ in light of a major security breach or some other matter of National Security. Galen was more than a little intrigued at what had brought his friend to his door after all this time.
“Griffin,” said Lucky briefly as he turned around. He wore a tight smile that looked almost as uncomfortable as he did in his suit. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been… too long”
Galen nodded in agreement. “Too long,” he muttered, glancing up at the security camera that Lucky had been disconnecting as he’d arrived. “Paranoia still rules I see,” he said with a scowl before returning his gaze to his old friend. “So what are you doing here?”
“Well you know the drill, Griff,” joked Lucky, walking over to the table and leaning against the edge. “And, I’m not here, not officially anyway.” Lucky sighed, shaking his head with a slight smile. “I have to say, you’re looking well, being on the outside obviously agrees with you, and I hear you got hitched to that girl!” His smile broadened, “the one you couldn’t stop talking about the last time you were up at 51. What was her name…?”
Galen cleared his throat, “Kate.”
“Kate yeah,” said Lucky with a click of his fingers as though snatching the name out of the air, “that was it. Seems like a nice enough girl, shame you had to leave the agency for her though. Still…” he chuckled and shook his head again. “Who’d have thought I’d see the day that Griff settled down and got married, doesn’t seem right somehow.”
Feeling ever so slightly annoyed at Lucky’s evasive rambling; Galen pulled up a chair and sat down. “I left Majestic because they tried to have me killed,” he stated bluntly, “but if you thought that working for the government was dangerous you should try being married.”
Lucky laughed, dragging the other chair out from under the table and sitting down. “Still the same ol’ Griff, glad to see you’ve not lost your sense of humour, things sure haven’t been the same since-”
“-So… what are you doing here?” interrupted Galen. “Don’t tell me Majestic developed an aftercare system devoted to the wellbeing of its previous employees.”
“HA, no of course not. Well, I’m here because we have a situation…”
Galen sighed; he’d probably heard those words a thousand times during his years of service with Majestic. They were usually code for – ‘I don’t really know what’s going on’. “A situation that concerns me?”
Lucky rose to his feet, picking up a briefcase from the floor and setting it down on the table. “I hope not, Griff,” he said solemnly, his earlier joviality replaced with a serious expression as he unlocked the case. He removed several plain brown files, sorting them through in his hands before holding one up.
“You remember Colonel Wilson?” At Galen’s brief nod Lucky continued, “she’s dead, so is Dr Booth. Carl Malick’s father and three-year-old daughter were both victims of a quote, unquote ‘tragic arson attack’ on their cabin in Oregon last month.”
Galen grimaced as Lucky dropped a file for each name on the table in front of him. The people Lucky had mentioned had all been acquaintances of Galen’s, some of whom he had been closer to than others. It was still a blow to hear that they were dead.
“That’s not all,” continued Lucky, placing the final file on the table, opening it up to show a series of crime scene investigation photos. “The boy in the pictures is Booth’s son. He was kidnapped, tortured and finally found murdered last week. Single gunshot wound to the head, just a few days before the good doctor wasted herself.”
Galen looked over the pictures. He couldn’t help but feel sick inside at the subject matter, it always effected him no matter how much he tried to not let it. It was one thing to kill an adult but a little kid?
“I don’t mean to sound heartless,” he said, pushing the photos away, “but what does any of this have to do with me?”
“You don’t see the connection?” Lucky spread out the files on the table so that their labels could be clearly seen. “Wilson, Booth and Malick…”
Galen frowned suddenly as he noticed the connection between the three. “They were all involved in Project Lazarus… shit.” He looked up at his friend, apprehension mirrored between their eyes. “You think this is some kind of vendetta? Against the agency?”
“That was the analysists seem to think,” said Lucky solemnly, picking up the files and replacing them in his briefcase, closing the lid firmly. “Certain evidence suggests it’s a personally motivated attack, this guy… he’s a reluctant killer. He’s not doing this for pleasure, rather… necessity.”
Lucky sighed heavily. “Which is why I’m here, you were deeply involved in uncovering the conspiracy to re-open Lazarus.”
Galen looked up sharply. “So what are you saying? That …I might be in some kind of danger?”
“I’m just advising you to be extra vigilant, being out of the loop and all, if someone IS targeting those who were involved you’re… well you’re less well protected.”
“Hmph,” scoffed Galen, laying a hand on the briefcase, “being IN the loop didn’t help these guys much did it?”
An uncomfortable frown spread across Lucky’s forehead. “What can I say Griff? We’re as much in the dark as you are. I’m only here because… well I thought you should know since it could effect you. I’m not even supposed to be here.”
“I know and… I’m sorry,” apologised Galen. “I appreciate you taking such a risk. I really do. Thanks.”
Lucky placed a hand on his shoulder supportively, “just take care of yourself and that family of yours. I’d hate the sacrifices you’ve made to be in vain. You’ve been a good friend to me Griff, just remember to watch your back.” He took out a small card and scribbled a number on the reverse, handing it to Galen.
“Call me if you ever need a friend,” said Lucky as he rose to his feet. “And Galen? Take care.”
Warning - Part Two
Tuesday, 10th July 2007 – 5:14pm
Bonne Santé, Pasadena
[serif]”My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and HE remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it…”[/serif]
“You ready?”
Kate looked up from her book to see Marianne stood by the door, her coat on and her bag slung over her shoulder. Glancing down at her wristwatch, Kate frowned a little, she’d become so engrossed in her novel she hadn’t realised how late it had become.
“Well…” she said speculatively, opening up the client book and scrolling down the list. “I had an appointment at five…”
Marianne pulled back the sleeve of her sweater to check her own watch; it was almost a quarter past the hour. “Oh, just blow them off.”
Kate turned her attention back to her book, smiling slightly. “I didn’t realise we provided that kind of service.”
“Oh you know what I meant,” said Marianne, sticking her tongue out at her friend. “They’re way late, they can hardly complain if we’ve closed up and anyway they’ll probably not show now. Besides, I finished my bookings for today and I have a date at six.”
“Ah, I see,” said Kate with a knowing smile, placing her book down once more. “The investment banker again?”
“Uh? Joseph? I don’t think so, he was too dull for words. All he could talk about were stock prices and interest rates. It was a total yawn-fest. No… tonight I shall be wined and dined by one Mitchell Robins,” Marianne smiled proudly, giving her shoulder a dramatic roll, “he’s a guitarist in a band called Skanky Bitches…” Marianne grinned again, “I think that’s so hot, I always wanted to go out with a musician!”
“How fabulous,” said Kate with an amused smile. “Look you don’t have to wait, I’ll give it another ten minutes or so… they might just be held up in traffic, you know what it’s like this time of day.”
Marianne wrinkled her nose in discomfort. She knew Kate had some kick ass powers, enough to take care of most of LA’s various nasties but she still didn’t like the idea of leaving her friend on her own, especially when it would soon be getting dark outside. “I don’t know…” she said warily, “if you’re sure…”
“I’ll be fine,” Kate assured her, “you get yourself home, go make yourself gorgeous for your date. I’ll see you on Thursday.”
Marianne smiled, moving over to Kate and kissing her cheek. “Don’t you wait too long,” she instructed firmly, pulling on her gloves as she walked towards the door. “Enjoy the rest of your evening and I’ll call you tomorrow with all the sordid details!”
****
In the dusky streets a silent figure waited across the road, hidden from view by the towering shadows of the nearby buildings. He watched the bubbly brunette close the door of Bonne Santé on her way out. She hurried down the empty street, her shoes clip-clopping as she hurried off home.
A flash of teeth cut through the darkness, a curl of smoke unfurling from the shadows. The man took a single step forwards before quickly ducking back into the safety of the alley as a car suddenly appeared, screeching to a stop directly outside the shop.
[serif]“ - My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. I AM Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being…”[/serif]
Kate almost jumped out of her skin as the bell above the door jangled loudly. Her head snapped upwards, her eyes widened and her book fell once again face down on the desk.
“Galen?” she said in puzzlement, her brow lowering into a confused frown as she stumbled out of her chair and to her feet. Her husband’s face was full of anxiety and worry and his eyes darted around the room constantly.
“What are you doing here?” Kate asked as she reached him, her hand instinctively rising to caress his cheek, directing his focus to herself. “Is something wrong?”
Despite Kate’s attempts to redirect his attention Galen continued to glance around the deserted shop. “Where’s Marianne?” he asked distantly, his hold on her loosening as he slipped from their embrace and began wandering around the shop as though checking for intruders.
Kate followed her husband with her eyes but remained still, rooted to the spot. “She had a date, she left early… what’s going on?”
Galen looked around again before moving across to the window, peering out into the darkening streets. “Nothing,” he said abruptly before turning back to face Kate. She looked worried and he strode across the shop, taking hold of her arm and tugging her in the direction of the door. “Come on, I’m gonna take you home.”
“Galen you’re really scaring me!” declared Kate firmly, pulling her arm free from her husband’s grasp and standing her ground. A mixture of emotions surged through her, fear… anger… but mostly she was annoyed that he wasn’t telling her what was going on. “Tell me,” she pleaded, “something’s happened hasn’t it?”
Galen sighed as he turned back into the shop. He didn’t look at his wife but he could imagine what her face would be like, her fine features sculpted into a fearful expression, her dark blue eyes so wide, so full of worry. He wanted to look at her desperately, he took such comfort in admiring her constant beauty, in the leap of his heart when he held her close but all he felt now was an icy fear that everything in this woman could be taken away by Majestic. He had fought so hard to prevent that from happening before, he simply couldn’t allow it to happen now.
“I… had a visit from an old friend,” he admitted finally. “We worked together when I was still involved in Majestic. There’s a… situation. People are…” Galen reluctantly raised his eyes to meet Kate’s, shaking his head dismally. “People are getting hurt… dying. They think that I- that we might be in danger too. Whoever it is seems to have a personal vendetta against the agency…”
Galen sighed again, his eyes searching Kate’s as her puzzled expression was replaced by one of understanding. “I don’t know what to do,” he said painfully, “I just- I had to see you, I had to know that you were safe I…”
Kate moved quickly to her husband’s side, holding him close, her arms encircling his back. “Nothing’s going to happen,” she soothed, sensing his fear and anxiety. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, her hold on him tightening. “Why should it? You’re not part of Majestic anymore, you’ve nothing to do with them, you haven’t for a long time.”
“I know but… we need to be careful,” said Galen firmly, holding Kate’s gaze with determination. He knew that Lucky wouldn’t have taken the risk of warning him if he didn’t think that they might be in danger, it was imperative that they took every measure to prepare themselves for the worst. “I don’t want you going anywhere on your own or talking to anyone you don’t know, alright?”
Kate nodded, “okay, okay, I promise I’ll be careful.”
****
Outside the shop the man dropped his cigarette to the floor, crushing it under his foot. He watched as the couple turned out the lights, locked up the shutters and drove off into the night. It had seemed too perfect anyway and besides, he had time to wait. Not too much time though, there were still others that had to pay for their sins of the past, he couldn’t afford to wait for long.
Not tonight.
But soon.
Silently the man disappeared back into the shadows.
an unlucky chance meeting-july 13
*** Friday, July 13, 2007, 7:12 pm ***
*** The Historic Ambassador Hotel ***
Daye smiled charmingly at the man currently gripping her hand and at the same time drooling down the décolletage of her way-too-revealing costume. When Drew had suggested they attend this gala for one of his mother's charities dressed as Sultan and Slave Girl, Daye had actually thought it would be fun. That had been before the dozen or so of his oldest and dearest friends who'd spent the evening ogling and leering. Her patience was indeed wearing thin, and Daye had been fighting the urge to hitch up the heavy, spangled brassiere-like top all night.
Finally, the man released her hand, and Daye just barely stopped herself from snatching it back. She leaned into Drew as he came up behind her and slid an arm around her bare midriff.
"I see you've met Blake," Drew said. "We went to school together."
"You're wife is...stunning," Blake told Drew, still staring not at all subtly at Daye's breasts. She sighed, and glanced up at Drew. His eyes narrowed and she could feel him tense up from behind her. It had happened again and again this evening when he found one of his 'friends' looking at her that way. *At least he's not blaming me,* Daye thought.
"Yes, she is," Drew tightened his arm around her. "Believe me, I'm well aware just how lucky I am that Amanda is all mine."
Blake's eyes suddenly shot up towards Drew's face and reading the irritation there, he at least had the decency to flush with embarrassment. "Quite right," Blake replied. "Well...uh...it was very nice meeting you. I should get going. I don't know where Shelby has gotten off to."
With that, Blake scurried away in search of his own wife, and Daye turned in Drew's embrace so that she could look up into his handsome face. "You scared him off but good," she quipped.
"Every damn one of them is an ass," Drew responded, looking sulky. "I can't believe I ever thought these pompous, stuffed shirts were my friends. You've rescued me from all this, Amanda. How can I ever repay you?"
Daye laughed softly. "For starters, you could kiss me," she replied, tilting her head. Drew happily obliged.
Marcus looked around the ballroom and concealed a grimace. As much as he needed to be here, the American tradition of philanthropy gave him a perfect cover for his other activities, he was by no means enjoying the experience.
The majority of guests for this event had gotten into the swing of things and dressed in costume. There was nothing inherently wrong with that. Marcus himself was dressed in a thick black robe with a voluminous hood but the rest of the guests had seemingly reverted to a second adolescence. Marcus was beginning to suspect some sort of enchantment.
Marcus shook his head, no it wasn’t an enchantment it was just a group of generally far too uptight people taking an opportunity to let their hair down in public and paying for the privilege.
His eyes swept the room again until they were suddenly stopped by the sight of a couple stood to one side kissing passionately. It wasn’t the act that so shocked Marcus though, but the flaming red hair of the woman that reminded him forcibly of Daye.
Drew pulled away from Daye, grinning like the cat that had swallowed the canary. "I'm the envy of every man in the room," he murmured, cupping her face in his hand and brushing his thumb across her cheek. Daye didn't say anything. She just sighed and stepped away from him. It would do them both good to remember that they were at a high society function set up by his own mother. Newlyweds would be forgiven many things, but an NC-17 exchange a few feet from the buffet tables wasn't one of them. Daye glanced quickly around the room to make sure no one had noticed their momentary breach of decorum and stopped dead in her tracks when she caught sight of the familiar face staring at them from nearby. She felt her own face flush with embarrassed heat while her heart thudded heavily and unexpected pain snaked its way through her.
*It was bound to happen one day,* Daye told herself. She forced herself to relax and smiled softly at the man before turning her head towards Drew and saying, "I think I'll take a spin around the room while you cool off. I'll be back soon."
Drew rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Probably a good idea. I don't think Mom would be too keen on me dragging you into a dark corner and unwrapping those veils, Baby."
Daye nodded and moved away from him, heading in a round about way for where Marcus stood, his gaze on her, but his look inscrutable.
The woman didn’t just look like Daye. She was Daye, and the sight of her seeming so happy with Drew went through Marcus like a sword in his gut. He didn’t let it show though. He’d made his decision about Daye after the wedding and he saw no reason to change it now. Esepcially not now.
Seeing the faint worry in her eyes as she approached, Marcus had to wonder if she was faking her happiness. It was an unworthy thought he realized, but one he couldn’t stop. When she came to a stop before him he gave her a polite smile. “Mrs. Langley. It is a small world, isn’t it?”
"Smaller than I ever would have imagined," she replied. "Hello, Marcus," Daye didn't even bother to try and follow his more formal lead. There was no way she could pretend this man was nothing more than an idle acquaintance. "I never would have guessed you for the Los Angeles Opera Society Children's Fund Gala type."
“Well, you Americans have some interesting traditions that I’ve come to agree with. Wealth is a privilege to be shared. As for the children’s fund, I do have a rather personal interest in helping disadvantaged children grow up in the most supportive environment possible.”
Unable to help herself, Daye winced. She'd not forgotten the terrible circumstances of Marcus' own upbringing and hadn't meant to make light of them, even in a roundabout way.
"Of course you do," Daye replied softly. "I...I haven't forgotten."
*Anything,* she thought, drinking in the sight of him for just a moment. "Well...it's a good cause, no matter why any of us are here. And it's...fun. I like your costume...it's rather sinister."
“It is, isn’t it? Quite appropriate really.” Marcus plucked at the rich velvet fabric “and I didn’t need to look very far either.” Marcus‘ expression changed to match the costume, “for obvious reasons.”
Before Daye could respond to the change in tone Marcus gave a small laugh breaking the tension. “And yours is very interesting. So revealing…I’m glad your recent sartorial experiments have been helpful.”
Daye cocked her head slightly as she considered the meaning behind Marcus' words. Surely it couldn't be as she suspected, because his reference to her costume seemed to also be a veiled reference to her time while suffering under Hyde. But why would he ever make mention of that in such a frivolous manner?
"Actually, the costumes were Drew's idea," Daye replied smoothly.
“Ah…” Marcus eyes flicked to where Drew stood chatting amiably with some couple, then back to Daye where they measured her. His gaze was curiously devoid of heat, for despite the sultry nature of the costume, Daye’s bearing lacked the provocativeness required to make it work. Indeed her manner bespoke a certain uncomfortableness with the whole thing, but then it hadn’t been her choice. It was Drew who had decided to display Daye in such a fashion and Marcus didn’t expect anything better of the man, though he wondered why Daye let her husband diminish her so.
"I...he thought it would be fun...sort of thumbing his nose at Charis' sometimes too proper demeanor, I guess. Anyway, he likes it, and I'm not...it's fine with me."
Daye didn't feel comfortable saying anything more on the subject. Marcus didn't need to know that the costume made her feel entirely too much on display or that wearing it reminded her too much of the way she'd felt when she’d wanted to be on display during her "Hyde" phase.
But Daye couldn't talk to Marcus about any of it. Talking to him, although it still felt right, was no longer within her rights. She couldn't help but feel a terrible sadness over what she'd lost when she'd lost her head the night before the wedding.
Marcus decided to change the subject. It was obvious Daye was unhappy with the costumes but had gone along with them anyway. Whatever point he’d wanted to make had been made.
“So how have things been? How’s Maia?”
"She's good, better anyway," Daye responded, more than a little grateful for the change of subject. "She was pretty sick a week or so ago. Actually, Drew and I had to cut the...the honeymoon short."
*I wonder who was happier about that, you or him?* He suppressed that thought and looked suitably concerned. “Nothing too serious I hope?”
"Just the chicken pox," Daye replied. "Not serious really, but it turned my normally happy little girl into an itchy, irritable mess for about a week. I sure was glad to see the last of that, especially since Sam had never had them, so he had to go stay with Drew's parents the whole time she was contagious. I would really rather have spent the week on a hammock in Tahiti sipping Pina Coladas and watching surfer boys ride the waves."
"Ah well, sometimes things just don't work out, do they?"
“I’m surprised you made it to the beach at all. Still, perhaps the eye candy was necessary.” Despite the implication of Marcus’ words he delivered the comment perfectly blandly. “And now you’re back in L.A. How’s Bibliophile?”
Daye hesitated. There was no way around it. Marcus was being deliberately insulting. In a genteel, roundabout way, sure, but still insulting. His comment just now was meant to cast aspersions on both Drew and her relationship with him. This was a side to Marcus that she'd never seen before, and it was definitely one that Daye didn't like. *I will not be baited,* she told herself. *After the way I treated him, maybe he's entitled to a bit of nasty anyway.*
Suppressing the urge to sigh, Daye opted for a soft smile and these words, "Its fine. Busy as ever, maybe even more so, but with a competent manager, at least I've time for other things now."
Daye realized that this conversation was tense and growing more so by the minute. Gone were the times when she and Marcus could talk easily about anything. Now she had to come up with suitable subjects, things that would carry the conversation without allowing it to in any way become personal.
"What about you?" she asked. "How is your work coming along?"
“Slowly. The building still needs some work before I can get the renovation crews in, but I’m addressing that. Everything’s taking longer that I’d really like but I have time.” Marcus shrugged. “ I always have time.”
Daye thought that sounded a bit lonely, perhaps a bit sad, but she was in no position to address it. Instead she said, "The building. I suppose I'd nearly forgotten. I guess my...problems left you in a bit of a lurch. I'm sorry about that, Marcus."
*And so many other things,* Daye thought with more than a touch of sorrow. She wondered if her friendship with this man had brought either one of them anything but pain. Just as she wished there was some way it might be salvaged.
Daye studied him silently for a moment, acknowledging the secret part of her that still rejoiced at just being near him. She ignored that part of herself as much as possible, and she knew that every day it got a little smaller, a little less important.
Someday, surely, she would have forgotten about it entirely.
"I...I'm glad you're getting on with things, though," she added finally. "I would hate for my...failings to have caused you too much...difficulty."
Marcus allowed that silent scrutiny. He saw the glimmerings of regret in her eyes. An emotion he had little time for. Did she regret their night together, marrying Drew or something else? Inwardly Marcus shrugged and drove back the urge to reach out to her. His next words he shaped to cause her pain.
“No, no great difficulties. As I said I have time. It’s nice to have something worthwhile to fill it again.”
Daye couldn't ignore the stab of pain his words caused. *Something worthwhile,* she thought, realizing immediately that he was implying she was anything but. She felt herself go stiff from the hurt, and couldn't seem to do anything about it.
Nor could she help the wounded tone in her words. "I...I should have realized how precious your time was. I guess I've been very selfish. Again, I'm sorry for causing you trouble."
Before Marcus could respond to that, Drew was upon them, worry apparent in his eyes as he glanced from Amanda to Marcus and back again. She was obviously upset about something, and Drew had to fight down the urge to both draw her protectively close and tear into the man before him for causing her pain.
"Baby, you alright?" he asked, taking Amanda's hand and shooting a dark, suspicious look at Marcus.
Daye nodded, forcing herself to suppress the hurt she felt and smile pleasantly at Drew. "Yes, fine, Marcus and I were just discussing...work," she replied. Almost without realizing it, she moved closer to Drew, drawing strength from his presence. He was only too happy to oblige, slipping an arm around her bare midriff and holding her close to his body. He couldn't keep the gloating expression out of his eyes as he acknowledged Marcus.
"Hello, Mr. Dalton," he said.
Marcus watched Daye curl into Drew’s arms and felt a dark upsurge of vindictiveness. He didn’t fight it but rather embraced it. Daye’s mere presence had disturbed two weeks hard won equilibrium and, having already sniped at her, he turned to Drew.
“Ah, the gallant husband to the rescue.” Marcus made a point of looking around. “No one to do it for you this time, I see.”
Drew's eyes darkened with anger. Daye stared in apparent shock at Marcus. "No one opportunistic enough to try," Drew shot back. Without question, the biggest mistake he'd ever made had been agreeing to enlist this man's help in a moment of weakness.
Marcus smiled, utterly unaffected. It wasn’t as if Drew’s comment wasn’t true. “You have to take your opportunities where you can. Like yourself, have you moved out of the guestroom yet?”
Reeling, Daye realized that things were only going to get worse here. Marcus and Drew had avoided sniping at each other for her sake before. *Or at least Marcus had,* she thought, recalling the terrible things Drew had said to him, to both of them, at dinner that night at the house. Now, though, apparently neither one had any qualms about letting loose. This was definitely not the place for it though, and feeling Drew's body tremble beside her, Daye was afraid her mild mannered husband might really lose his cool and resort to out and out violence. She had to pull herself together and stop this quickly.
"I don't believe what happens in any of our bedrooms is of any concern to you, Dalton," Drew retorted.
“Yours? I guess not.” Marcus paused. He’d told himself he was over Daye, that he had moved on, but it seemed he wasn’t. Seeing her tonight had pulled that careful edifice of self deception down. Her arm around Drew made things worse, but the worst of it was the gloating that he’d seen initially in Drew’s eyes and that underpinned his anger even now. Marcus had seen enough of it. It was time to let this pathetic excuse for a man known just how second best he was. That Daye had married him only because Marcus wouldn’t have her.
Marcus’ smile was as ugly as his thoughts. “Mine, on the other hand.” Marcus watched puzzlement crease Drew’s brow for a second and he flicked his eyes to Daye’s suddenly pallid face. “He doesn’t know?”
Marcus expression turned positively vicious. “Perhaps you ought to ask your wife where she was the night before the wedding.”
Daye knew that all the color had drained from her face. She felt suddenly light-headed and disconnected. She had to cling to Drew's arm, because she was afraid that otherwise she might actually fall.
*How could you?* her incredulous thoughts were directed at Marcus. She could feel Drew's wary gaze dart to her face and Daye wished desperately that she could find the strength to laugh off Marcus' venomous words.
Drew glanced at Amanda as he felt her hold on his arm tighten. He didn't know what Dalton meant by his snide comment, and Drew strongly suspected that he didn't really want to know. All he could see now was that whatever had happened between Amanda and Marcus on the night before their wedding, she was horror struck to have it brought up this way. Drew glanced around the room, quickly, reminding himself where they were. Then he tightened his hold on his wife, offering her all the support he could at the moment. There would be time later to sort this out, but Drew would be damned directly to the very worst version of hell in existence before he'd let Dalton have the satisfaction of watching he and Amanda fall to pieces.
Drew lifted his gaze back to the hate filled look of his adversary and realized at that moment, that whatever it was that had passed between his wife and this man, it was Marcus who should be pitied, because it was Marcus who had just ensured that Amanda would be out of his life for good. What a terrible loss.
"I'm sure that Amanda has told me everything I need to know about you two," Drew replied coolly. "And now, if you'll excuse us, I rather think that my wife is suddenly feeling under the weather. Must be a reaction to something toxic in the air."
Drew turned, holding Amanda close, and walked away from Marcus Dalton.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Saturday, July 14th, 12:58 AM
Darian groaned as he toiled to push through the rubble of the collapsed ceiling. Even with his super strength, the combination of fatigue, wounds and the sheer weight of the bricks made the process grueling and difficult.
Throwing off the last bits of debris, the fae struggled to his feet. “Oh man..,” he mumbled dizzily as a wave of nausea threatened to knock him back to the floor. Warm blood trickled from cuts and scrapes all over his body, as well as from a vicious injury on his right temple. As much as Darian’s body screamed for him to collapse, the man new he had to fight it; had he survived the roofs cave in, Kronor most likely had also.
“You are brave little gnat,” Kronor’s thunderous voice rang out from behind, confirming Darian’s deduction. “Now, however, you are without aid or ally.”
Darian could feel the magic streaming towards him, but his legs wouldn’t move fast enough and there was no way to avoid the blast. The bolt of energy sizzled over his already beaten body causing waves of agony before detonating. Like a leaf in a storm, the fae was tossed forwards, before crashing painfully into the wall.
He had failed. Kronor was just too strong and there was nothing Darian could do to stop him. As black oblivion crept into his eyes, the fae prayed that the rest of the White Hats could stop this mad faery before he could cause anymore destruction.
Some time later.
Light slinked back into the fae’s vision as he woke to find himself in an uncomfortably familiar situation. Cold metal bound his wrists above his head, dangling his body inches above the ground. He couldn’t help but think of the similarity between now and back to when Dathan had held him captive before the epic battle at the Hyperion Hotel. His only relief was this time, the building wasn’t as cold, and he doubted Kronor would be as…..playful as Ellie was.
Looking around, Darian noticed that the place was familiar. The cold factory surrounding, the dank putrid smell, it was the Upstream Fish factory, the same he had worked at when he first arrived in LA. *Oh great, what a nice place to hold me hostage. My ex comes back to town and I’m going to reek of tuna*
“And so life makes its way back into my defeated adversary,” a voice from the darkness rumbled, as Kronor’s massive frame emerged from the shadows. Despite the vicious fight, the monster looked totally untouched, a far stretch from the bruised and bloody Darian.
“You wonder why I have not killed you?” he continued, using his undine abilities to read Darian’s mind. “It is simple half-breed, the others will sense your life force and come for you, and when they do, I will quench my thirst for revenge with their blood.
*The others.* The words rang over in the man’s mind as he thought back to just before he pulled Kronor into the building. Liala had come to help….he told her to save Kyle…the rest was foggy.
“How…how (cough) do you know they will come?” Darian questioned his voice raspy and weak.
Thunderous laughter rang from the titan as he moved to stand before his helpless captive. “Because I could feel her love for you. Interesting and rare it is, a water faery in love with a dark one like yourself. Such unions are forbidden.”
Fiery defiance crept into Darian’s down crest eyes. “If you hurt her, I swear to god..”
“You’ll do what!?” Kronor bellowed as he viciously backhanded the dangling fae. “You are as far beneath me, as humans are beneath you! I am a fae of war, and there is no one in this forsaken plane of existence who can stop me!”
The chains clanged as the force of the blow left Darian reeling back into oblivion. *I just pray he’s wrong* the fae thought before darkness took him once more.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Saturday, 14th July 2007 – 2:07am
“Well, which way then? Left or right?” Tash gripped the steering wheel as the Monte Carlo sped down a narrow street and tried not to grind her teeth. Though Tash understood the uncertain nature of tracking someone by sense, her frustration wasn’t helped by Liala’s arrogance.
“Be quiet and let me concentrate, mortal. He’s close by, but the rigid nature of your human streets makes it difficult to determine which path is best to take.”
Hissing through her teeth, Tash stomped on the brakes. “Let’s see if you really can stop on a dime,” she muttered to the car. Suddenly the steady braking ended in a spine-jarring jolt; the car stuck to the road as though someone had thrown glue on it.
Tash’s midriff was nearly cut in half as her seat belt dug into her, and she heard Oz’s “oof” as his seat belt caught him up short as well. For the two unbelted fae in the back, however, the sudden change in momentum threw them against the back of the front seats. Heedless of the chaos she’d engendered, Tash continued to seethe. “Fine,” she snapped, “then we’ll just sit here until you work it out.”
Oz leaned over and groaned in pain. “A little warning would have been nice,” he said in a low voice, “but on the plus side I think you mussed her hair.”
Liala did not seem eager to acknowledge Tash’s little victory but she did scowl at the back of her head. Loki, on the other hand, was completely put out. “Did we hit something? For Oberon’s sake, is there some reason we have to travel in this hideous and uncomfortable machine? Ow! The springs in the seat keep poking me!”
Tash snickered to herself. She knew there weren’t any springs in the seat.
Oz seemed intrigued by the function of the vehicle more than anything else. “This is a remarkable car. A 2003 Monte Carlo with leather seats and some sort of super-charged engine judging from the speeds you were hitting there. And a racing suspension. Must have cost a bundle. I’d like to look at the engine someday if you’d let me.”
“There!” Liala cut in, pointing eagerly to the large warehouse-esque building ahead. “That putrid smelling building, they are in there.”
“Well slap my ass and call me Shirley, this is where me and D-man had our one-on-one showdown. Oh, the memories of it all. Me almost killing him; him getting out at the last minute… it was like an episode of Batman. Good times, good times,” Loki rambled as the Monte Carlo came to a quiet halt outside the front of the building.
“Darian’s life is at risk. Are you mortals sure you know what you’re doing?” Liala whispered as she stepped from the car.
Giving the car a friendly pat as she got out, Tash turned to Liala and matched the fae’s haughtiness. “We’ll hold up our end, sister. Just remember, you’re supposed to be the one with the big mojo. Let’s just hope all your stuffing about earlier hasn’t killed him.”
Quickly checking her weapons, Tash strode towards the smelly factory, her mental tendrils to full extension. Sure enough, there was Darian’s essence as well as the more powerful one that just had to be Kronor. “They’re in there, all right. I can’t sense any psychic wards, but there may be magical ones. Still, if this guy is as tough as you say he is, he might not bother with them. Either way, I’d recommend sneaking in rather than bursting in the front door.”
Oz grabbed Loki’s arm even as he took two steps away from the packing plant. “Not so fast, skinny. Let’s see if there is a way in the top.”
Oz unfurled his flaming wings and dragged more than carried Loki to the roof of the building. “I can get up here myself, you overrated Hawkman!” he protested.
“Shh! We are sneaking, remember?” Oz said as they touched down lightly.
The roof seemed to be a forest of vents, fans, and skylights. Oz was about to look through one when Loki piped up, “Why drop all those feet when we can use the stairs?” He had located an unlocked access panel and had already opened it.
“You first, handsome. Let me see you wag that tight little ass of yours,” Loki said, holding the door for Oz.
Looking upward, Liala commented, “There are faster ways than the roof,” and grabbed Tash’s hand.
Before she could protest, Tash found herself being dragged through the wall. It passed through her with no more difficulty than if she’d stepped into a pool, but likewise her gloves no longer protected her from the substance through which she moved. The molecules of the wall mingled with hers, and brought with them the visions. The few seconds Tash spent in that semi-liquid state seemed like an eternity, with impression after impression forcing itself into her consciousness.
On the far side, Tash ripped her hand from Liala’s and shuddered. “Next time I’ll use the window, thanks.”
Sniffing in disdain, Liala led the way into the factory, homing in on her sense of Darian. He wasn’t far, now. She just hoped the dark-skinned woman behind her really could manage the task ahead. From what she’d seen so far, she wasn’t impressed.
The low scaffolding above the floor afforded the two men descending from the ceiling an excellent overview. Below, in a space near the grinders used to turn fish into fish meal, Oz could see Darian hanging by the chains used to haul nets over the vats. Pacing around him was an enormous man with rippling muscles and an angry expression. Oz could practically hear Loki licking his lips behind him. Oz pointed and Loki gave him a ‘no-shit’ look.
Then Loki pointed over to the wall where Liala and Tash were standing. Oz nodded and indicated a rafter. He prepared to climb out to it when Loki placed a hand on his arm. He squeezed it and gave Oz a lewd look before leaping like a flea and landing soundlessly on the beam. He then leapt again to another beam almost directly above Darian and Kronor.
“Do you feel it? Your allies have arrived,” Kronor taunted, as he lifted Darian’s chin so they could look eye to eye. “The undine, your bastard brother, and two others, but the boy of fire is not with them. I guess he did not survive the night.”
“You monster. He was just a kid,” Darian replied weakly, barely able to form the words.
“What difference does it make? He was a mortal; their lives are so fleeting anyway.” Kronor was about to say something else when a brilliant ray of sparkling blue energy whizzed out from the darkness, slamming the titan backwards.
“Look at the great Fae of War,” Liala hissed, her radiant figure surrounded in a dazzling maelstrom of magic. “You were once a wondrous champion of Avalon, and now look at how far you have fallen; boasting about a victory over a mortal boy.”
It did not take long for Kronor to get up, his massive frame towering over all in the room. “You insolent undine! Do you honestly think you and your human allies can stop me? I, who ravaged demon hordes single-handedly? Even stuck in this disgusting mortal shell, I am still unimaginably more powerful than you!”
Loki looked at Oz and shrugged his shoulders. “What now?”
Oz looked around and spotted just the thing: an enormous hook on a chain tethered to one of the beams. Oz pointed at it frantically. Loki made an ‘ok’ with his fingers and scampered over to it. He easily severed the cable securing it and dropped it towards Kronor.
Kronor didn't even look at it, he just took a single step forward as it whizzed past him. He looked into the rafters with a smug look as Loki gasped. The hook sailed towards Darian. It brushed past Darian's head, missing it by fractions of an inch. Loki shot some sort of dark magic beam at it when he recovered his composure that made the hook stop moving while hanging at an awkward angle.
Kronor reached up and yanked hard on the chain; the beam which Loki had been standing on twisted and shook and Loki fell to the floor, landing on all fours like a lithe cat. Oz scanned the floor looking for Tash, but he was unable to locate her. He was hoping she would do something smart so he could join her efforts. But after seeing Kronor in action he seriously doubted his ability to help much.
Knowing she and Liala couldn’t really do much to Kronor psychically until he’d been fully engaged physically, Tash punted on a long shot and drew her gun. Four rapid shots rang out, her aim impeccable. But Kronor merely spun the chains he held in front of him and all four bullets ricocheted away from the giant. Cursing, Tash ran to Liala’s side and hissed, “We’d better get our mojo started soon. When are those boys of ours going to distract him for us?”
Oz launched himself towards Kronor. He figured he'd be pounded hard anyway when he got there so the use of wings would only slow him down and give away his location. Loki stalked slowly around Kronor who turned his head to watch him. Oz looped his elbow around Kronor’s head to break his fall. Kronor’s neck made an audible crack, then the hulk of a man kicked Oz hard in the gut and held his neck with his other hand as Oz slammed into a stack of boxes.
Loki used the narrow opening to grab Kronor's leg and tried to throw him onto the floor. He partially succeeded. Kronor rolled with long martial practice and grabbed Loki between his legs and twisted, slamming the thin fae headfirst onto the concrete factory floor. Oz stood and shook himself, and waited for the little lights to stop filling his vision before seeing a weapon he could use. He stepped out of the mess that had broken his fall, whirling a heavy can of fish tied to a rope. He slammed it towards Kronor on the floor. Kronor attempted to roll out of its path, but Loki was scrambling madly to free himself from Kronor’s hold. The can made a meaty splat as it burst open on Kronor’s face, spreading fish over all three of them.
Tash quickly ripped off her gloves, stuffing them in her pocket before grabbing hold of Liala’s hand. Their minor feud forgotten for the moment, Tash became all business as she did her best to calm her mind and centre herself in preparation for channelling she was about to perform. She could feel Liala’s power pulsating in the background; the rich, elemental nature of it. Waiting for their chance to act, the two women stepped closer to where Oz and Loki struggled with Kronor.
“EWWW GROSS!” Loki bitched, as he slopped the fish off his face and clothes before springing back to his feet. “Can someone please tell me why I am helping again? I’m supposed to be a villain, remember?” Dodging under a massive right hook, the agile dark fae flipped backwards, his foot catching Kronor under the chin as he did so. For the first time, the massive faery gave a bestial grunt as if the blow had actually done something.
“Ohhhhh, Loki in da house!” The trickster’s showboating was quickly put to a halt as Kronor summoned his earth magic. Before Loki knew what was happening, a large fist sprang forth from the ground, its concrete knuckles punching him square in the stomach, knocking him back into Darian.
“Jesus that hurt… hey, someone’s been working out,” Loki said, impressed, as he turned to see Darian’s topless body hanging right in front of him. “Looking good, D-man.”
“Break the chains,” Darian whispered, ignoring Loki’s totally out-of-place comments.
“Huh? Oohhh right, good idea, you can help us out. Hey Hawkman, be with you in a second, okay?” he called out to Oz who was now one-on-one with Kronor, as he began to tug at the cuffs that were trapping Darian.
Oz drew his sword and Kronor stood up, glaring at Oz with chunks of fish dripping from his face. The earthen fist travelled like a wave through the floor, and Oz leapt into the air to avoid being punched. He swooped at Kronor, swinging wildly, only to be batted aside like a fly. Oz assumed that Kronor's powers, being Earth-based, could not easily touch him as long as he remained airborne. But one solid hit and Oz might have to stop flying and lie unconscious for a while – or even die.
It was a precarious place to be.
Oz flew very low to draw Kronor's vision down towards the floor so that as Oz pulled up from his dive he could hike a crate of tuna cans towards Kronor. He never got the chance. Kronor created a maelstrom within the confines of the plant directly in front of Oz. Rather than smashing a crate into Kronor, Oz was caught in a whirling dance of cans, tools, chains and boxes. He was thrown around within the whirlwind like a doll until it deposited him, battered and bruised, across a conveyor belt.
Their energy slowly growing as they grew more attuned to one another, Liala and Tash waited and watched for their opportunity: that moment when Kronor would be vulnerable to their attack. Tash winced as Oz took his beating, but as much as she longed to join in the brawl she knew she was much more useful here. She moved slightly, noticing Kronor’s attention on the fallen angel, but Liala held her back. Angry, Tash silently urged the fae forward, but Liala responded by indicating Kronor’s gaze turning towards them.
Tash subsided with a sigh: Kronor had to be suspicious of their inaction, but even as the brute’s eyes narrowed in contemplation of the pair Loki’s form eclipsed them. “Hey, Goliath! Stop playing like a girl. Wanna see what a real man is made of?”
“You make me laugh, half-breed” Kronor rumbled, charging forward. Loki had been expecting the move and, with inhuman speed, he flipped over the behemoth, twisting his nimble body in midair to land facing Kronor’s back. Before the titan could turn to counter, he found himself caught in Loki’s bear hug. The trickster was by no means strong enough to hold him, but it was hopefully enough of a distraction to allow the two girls to do their mind melding mojo.
“Now!” Liala said, as she and Tash rushed forwards.
Her free hand sought the bare flesh of Kronor’s arm and Tash tightened her grip around his wrist even as he struggled to free himself from Loki’s hold. Darian and Oz both moved in to help hold Kronor, but even with three of them on him the giant wouldn’t be subdued for long. Still, Tash had a feeling Liala wouldn’t need long.
Tash’s body stiffened as Liala unleashed her psychic energy through her into Kronor. She could see the threads of Liala’s power enter Kronor’s psyche and followed them down, deeper into his core. Understanding flooded Tash with the bright light of an epiphany: she knew what Liala was doing and knew she could do more than simply channel the power.
Liala burrowed into Kronor’s essence, searching for the elements that held him bound to his earthly body. She started with as much power as she thought the mortal girl could take, but quickly found that Tash seemed capable of taking more – had in fact relaxed her mind considerably since the process started. So she pushed, increasing the level of psychic energy she was using; knowing time was of the essence, the more power she could utilise the faster it would go.
Then the unthinkable happened. This girl – this mere human – actually began mirroring her efforts. At first Liala panicked: there was no way a mortal could perform any part of this operation without botching it completely. But after pausing long enough to see exactly what the woman was doing, Liala had to admit that Tash’s technique was flawless. When this was over, she vowed to find out how this could be.
The threads of Kronor’s being were slowly picked apart. His struggles against the three men holding him lessened momentarily as he realised the danger in this new attack. But he was too late; too much damage had been done already and he no longer had the strength to resist the assault. A smile crept onto Tash’s face as she helped Liala pick apart the last of the threads of fae psyche from his human essence. Two separate and distinct auras now existed within Kronor’s body, the fae elements unable to interact with their human host.
“Let him go, Tash. We are done. It will be some time before the two auras can merge again, and by then it will be too late.”
Tash dropped Kronor’s wrist, her eyes catching Liala’s as they shared their moment of triumph. It didn’t escape Tash’s notice that Liala had actually used her name, either. For Liala’s part, she used the few seconds’ grace they had to gently probe Tash’s mind. What she found astonished her. Someone had done a masterful job of hiding nuggets of knowledge in Tash’s memories, so deep that she would never be able to access them consciously and yet in times of need they would open up new vistas for her.
“Someone has given you a precious gift,” Liala murmured. Tash merely smiled at her, not comprehending her meaning.
Liala gave it no more thought, turning instead to the three who held Kronor. The creature still struggled, but without his former strength. “Well?” she asked querulously, “What are you waiting for? We did all the hard work – finish him!”
Oz limped over, picked up his sword and groaned as the aching muscles of his back stretched. He walked back slowly, savouring the moment that he wasn't being pounded like a chicken breast filet. Loki held the weakened Kronor allowing Darian to slump back to his knees holding his sides in agony.
Oz looked at Darian for the cue to follow it through. “So does he get a last-minute reprieve? Is it a case of ‘thumbs-up’ all around? Or do we just kill him?” he said, waiting for Darian to break the tie between he and Tash and Loki and Liala.
Darian could barely move now, the last of his energy having been used to restrain Kronor. Still, with great effort, he finally managed to get back to his feet. “There is still a human somewhere deep down in there. Are we sure we can do this?”
“There is no human in me, you disgusting half-breed bastard. Only I, Kronor, remain. You may have temporarily gained the upper hand, but once my aura realigns with this mortal shell, I’ll..”
Snap
The others gazed on in surprise as Loki cut Kronor’s speech short by snapping his neck with one sickeningly loud twist, allowing the large body to recklessly tumble lifelessly to the floor. As for the faery essence, there were no explosions or vast fireworks, just a simple red glow which faded silently into nothingness as Kronor’s true spirit returned to the prison in which it belonged.
“What?” Loki said innocently, as all eyes fell on him.
Oz turned his back on Loki. “If you don't know then I don't have the energy to explain it to you.”
Tash gazed at the crumpled body with mixed feelings. Perhaps, given enough time, his human side could have been coaxed into dominance – but now they’d never know. Her eyes fell on Darian and she moved to help support him as he swayed in an effort to stay upright, but Liala beat her to it, rushing forward to wrap her arm around his waist.
“Hmm, well,” Tash grunted, “We’d best get back to the car. But if I smell fish in it tomorrow, I’ll be sending you lot the cleaning bill.”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Saturday 14th of July, 4:10 am
Darian’s apartment door opened slowly, as he, with the help of Liala supporting him, finally arrived back home. Tash and Oz had just left back up to her apartment, and Loki scampered off right after the battle. *Maybe ill actually get some rest this time around* he thought hopefully, longing for the comfort of his bed. He was badly beaten and bruised, but with a good night of sleep, his supernatural constitution would do a good job healing.
As he and the Undine stepped in, Darian noticed that Kyle was laying lazily on the couch, caught in a state somewhere between awake and sleep.
“So the good guys win again,” Kyle observed with a massive yawn, getting off the couch as he saw the fae stumble in, followed by what seemed to be a very attractive blond.
“You’re ok.” Darian sighed with relief. Kyle was taken off guard as Darian’s big arms flew around him, wrapping him in a hug which was surprisingly strong for someone who looked as beat up as he did.
He quickly slipped out of the embrace and took a couple of steps back, where he stood shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. “Uh, yeah. Just peachy. You’re looking alive, kinda, so that’s all good.” Kyle’s attention moved to the blonde. “And you’re not looking too bad, either.”
Liala only smiled in response, not fully getting the implied meaning of the comment. Suddenly however, Darian’s mood shifted very quickly from happy relief to that of an angry parent. “Kyle you could have gotten yourself killed. Had you left when I told you to, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. God you had me so worried, he said you weren’t going to live and…”
“And he’s obviously alive Darian,” Liala cut in, rolling her eyes behind Darian’s back. “I see some things never change.”
Darian gave an annoyed huff that no one else seemed to grasp the severity of the situation. “Kyle, could you please just try to be less reckless sometimes?”
As Darian started his tirade, Kyle immediately rolled his eyes and shrugged off his comments, then waited impatiently for him to finish. “Look, I’m alive, your alive, everybody’s alive except for that big guy - which is a good thing - so get over it. And if the whatever-it-was that thing hit me with hasn’t warped my memory, I seem to remember you recklessly attacking that boy-band reject before you let him speak, right?”
“That’s different. Loki’s dangerous, and anything that comes out of his mouth is garbage anyways.” Knowing he was not going to get through to Kyle (at least not tonight) Darian just gave a final sigh, before trudging to his bedroom, Liala following close behind.
“Night Kyle,” Darian called as he stepped into the bedroom.
Closing the door behind Liala and him, the fae turned to look at his former lover. It was undeniable, the feelings he still had for her. It raged in the pit of his stomach, the flame that had been lit almost a century ago. Yet despite it all, how could he forget what she had done to him.
“I think we need to have a talk.”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
July 5th 2007 12:07am
Los Angeles
It had taken a couple of days for the investigators Marcus had hired to pin down Leyton Knox as the man Marcus was interested in. It took another for Onyx to be certain that she could deal with the matter, as Marcus desired.
She had shed her camouflage for this mission, Knox was a necromancer and Onyx had no wish to place a weapon in his hand. So it was Onyx’s insectoid form moving with unnerving precision that approached the man’s mansion.
There were wards of course. Spells sunk in the earth to guard and protect, but Onyx was equal to each of them and her own magic rose in answer to beguile and corrupt each of those defences in turn.
Onyx froze an alien clicking emanating from her mandibles as she noted a perimeter guard moving into sight. The guards were reasonable good. Managing not to fall into predictable patterns though the short time span of Onyx’s observation may have been the reason for that. The guard however did not see her, the black of her carapace melded into the shadows aided by a minor exertion of her magical abilities
The guard passed her and Onyx rose up, with the weird precision and moved off towards the house. She reached it with no further disruption and set her claws into the brick of the wall. Soundlessly she scuttled up the wall reaching a second story window in moments. Here she paused more magic had been laced through the fabric of the building and Onyx was unable to just use magic to open the window from the inside.
Fortunately she had come prepared for such a possibility and a glasscutter popped into existence in her hand. She set it to the window and cut a single hole in the glass while her magic diverted the spells around the intrusion. There was no alarm and Onyx simply inserted her ‘arm’ through the hole and opened the window.
The glasscutter vanished back whence it came and Onyx moved to the entrance of the room. She listened carefully even going so far to extend her senses into the corridor beyond but she heard nothing, felt nothing.
There was no deep breath to release tension or any other motion so obviously human. Onyx simply opened the door and stepped out. The hallway was only dimly lit and though her movement would be visible to an observer her colouration would make it more difficult.
It seemed however that there was no one to observe Onyx as she moved silently through the house. Carefully she extended her senses again until she found the dark nexus of power that was Leyton Knox. Insects don’t as a rule smile but the tilt of Onyx’s mandible would have indicated, to a knowledgeable observer at least, a measure of pleasure.
With swift silent steps Onyx moved to the Knox’s room and halted. She pushed her senses through the door and detected nothing more than a sleeping man but Onyx had not lived half a millennia without develop some measure of caution. She took a few moments longer to check again. Satisfied that everything was as it should be she opened the door and stepped in.
“Well well.” Leyland Know was not asleep in his bed. Instead he was stood at the edge of a circle chalked onto the floor just in front of the doorway. A circle Onyx now stood in the centre of. “What do we have here?”
Onyx ignored the necromancer’s words and kept her attention on the illusion that still held her arcane senses captive. However knowing it was an illusion was always the starting point for freeing herself.
“It’s not as if he was particularly subtle. I mean he used how much energy localising me? Though what can you expect from a degenerate like him. “ Onyx ignored Knox continuing to concentrate on the powers holding her captive.
“Hmmm I presume you can talk? Though I guess with that mouth it’s not certain. I don’t recognise your species either. Demonology is a hobby of mine you see.” Leyton stepped away from the circle and moved to a bookcase.
“I didn’t sense him summoning anything so I guess you’re an outside contractor. "How did he pay you?”
Leyton continued to talk but Onyx merely tuned the man out. He was being after all as arrogant about this as Marcus had been. *There…* Onyx found the thread of the illusion and pulled. Knox’s illusion fell to pieces and Onyx got a good look at the circle imprisoning her. She sneered. Leyton Knox might be an able necromancer but his abilities at Demonology were sadly lacking but appearances could be deceptive, as She had already found out once tonight.
“Hmmm No not a F’caltha…” Leyton was stood by the circle again, leafing through a large leather bound tome. Onyx slammed arcane power at half a dozen weak points in Knox’s spell and the circle shattered. And the necromancer had time for only a startled “Wha…?” before Onyx’s jiann pierced his heart.
Onyx made certain of her kill using an energy bolt to smash Leyton’s skull like a ripe melon. Quickly Onyx stepped to the bookcase checking titles. Some few vanished to wherever the rest of her tools went but the majority remained where they were. Spreading the manipulators on her right ‘hand’ wide Onyx made a high fluting sound a a swarm of multicoloured sparks fountained into existence They circled the room while Onyx exited before settling and igniting every surface they touched
Onyx ‘smiled’ as she left the rapidly burning building. Marcus would be pleased at her success but it had been a greater risk than she had realised. Considering how close she was to success she couldn’t afford to face more such surprises.
*Five hundred years of service.* she thought. *It’s time to call the debt due.*
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Saturday, June 30, 2007
6:05 pm
Memorial Beach
Alessa watched as a handsome couple stranded from the party area to wander away along the beach. The woman had her sandals in her hand and the man had hiked his expensive tux pants till mid calf; he was bending towards her and she was giggling. They looked so perfectly happy that Alessa felt herself blush in irrational fury. The cup in her hand almost broke at the sudden pressure, but she caught herself before shattering it to pieces. She chuckled as she relaxed her hand, she couldn’t go through life breaking glasses because of her temper, besides, she couldn’t hate people just for being happy. That was mean of her.
With an effort she tore her gaze from the walking lovers and turned to the dance floor that had been set among the tables. There weren’t many people dancing, maybe because the band had started playing Salsa. The exotic rhythm didn’t seem to fit too well with the attending socialites.
"I think this is our song?"
Ellis' voice startled her and she looked up in surprise. Then she cocked her head and paid attention to the song the band was playing, she couldn’t help a smile.
"'Cruz de Navajas' is our song?" she asked, looking up to him.
"Well, it's in Spanish, that makes it our song to my ears."
Alessa giggled, "I'm afraid there are a lot of songs in Spanish, Ellis."
"The more the better. You have a moral obligation to dance your song, you know?" He winked and extended his hand to her. He was smiling, and his eyes sparkled blue and Alessa just had to smile back. After the awkwardness of the first moment, she had actually enjoyed his company this afternoon. What could a little dancing do her, anyway?
"Ok, let's show this people how it's done." She said and stood up, then she doubted a second. Her eyes twinkling with mischief she asked, "Sure you can follow me?" Cuban salsa was a complex rhythm, and the figures and movements of dancers were equally complex. The bailarines usually took dancing very seriously and didn’t even contemplate partnering with somebody who couldn’t follow them. She wasn’t like that, but she was feeling naughty.
"I'll try," he said, and smiled back. "It can't be that difficult," he added, and with this he sealed his fate.
As she walked to the middle of the dance floor, Alessa let the music fill her ears and her eyes fixed on his smiling face as she felt her body dive into the familiar rhythm. She started to move, following the music with the rapid movements of Salsa, and she dared Ellis to follow her. The dance had some standardized routines, and Alessa remembered them well from the times she had practiced Inés' choreographies with her. Salsa movements contain the age-old premise of the woman trying to tease the man by means of her charms and then withdraw when he's interested.
As she moved, Alessa forgot where she was and just enjoyed the dance. She didn’t control herself as she had done when dancing with Chance, and instead let the full impact of her movements hit her partner. Ellis moved well, and could follow her to some extent, but Latin music is something you carry in your blood, and his was too 'civilized' for the exotic beat. But he didn’t stop dancing, if something he reinforced his attention and strove to emulate her, in his way. The more difficult her movements, the more he tried, even if clumsily, never faltering. It was as if they were trying to prove something to each other with their dancing.
Then Ellis stopped following her, the complex choreography was forgotten in lieu of a more simpler yet equally strong interpretation. Sweat glistened on his skin and his breath was quick, but he smiled as she watched her almost miss a step at his change of attitude.
The music felt so natural, and the movements so right that Alessa's zest eased a little. Soon their places were reversed when she made adjustments to get into synch with his more subsided pace. She allowed him to take her waist and make a swift turn, and when the song ended they were finally dancing together, and not against each other.
The sound of clapping hands startled them, and they looked around, open mouthed, at the people surrounding them. A circle of friends had formed around the dance floor that they just noticed had emptied when their battle of sorts begun. Alessa caught Kate's wink and blushed, resting breathlessly on Ellis' arm. Then she giggled and took his hand, leading him out of the ball floor.
"We are making a show of ourselves," she whispered.
"It's just what these high society people needed, some shot of verve into their boring lives." He dismissed her objections, but let himself be led by her.
"You are 'high society people', remember?" She giggled again, as she took off one of her sandals and jumped in one leg while massaging her toes. The contact of the sand on her feet felt delicious and she felt almost at home.
"Oh, but I was never boring," he replied, rushing to steady her as she almost fell.
"No, that you never were." She smiled and then she watched him take off his shoes and hike up his pants. She cocked her head and looked at him questioningly. "What are you doing?"
"What? Where you dancing alone? Come on, a stroll in the water will do wonders to my aching feet."
Alessa just laughed and shook her head. Her mind couldn’t avoid remembering the couple of lovers that had so distraught her a while ago. She studied his profile as he loosened his tie, wondering how she could have been so blind. She looked around before he could catch the telling glistening in her eyes.
"The wedding is almost over, anyway." In fact, Daye and Drew had already left the party, and some of the guests had started following suit. "There's this spot not far along the beach… " she doubted, biting her lip.
"Sure, let's go," he answered, placing his arm on her shoulders and gently leading her away from the crowd.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Friday, July 6th, 2007 – 20:32
Sunset lingered over the horizon, teasing the land with a long awaited rest from the day. Perched atop an old abandoned warehouse – there seemed to be many in this little place – sat a hunched over figure, cross-legged with their hands resting practically on their knees.
Nursing two cracked ribs, they sat and watched. Hundreds of tiny people scurrying through the streets looked like tiny ants from this high up. He grinned. These simple lives amused him. Exhaling a deep breath, he stiffened, straightening at the sharp pang he recklessly caused his still mending body, but schooled his features to betray nothing of what he felt. This came naturally for him. Ignoring pain was like ignoring cold…. A pain in the ass, but handy!
As the sun gradually slid behind the cityscape, night crept over the streets. For the last few days he’d awkwardly find his way to the top this roof, movement hindered by injury, and sat there, and for the last couple of days, he’d watched. This was when those simple lives would start to dwindle from observation, as the more interesting ones stood up.
There was one life out there, in particular, that interested him most above the others. One that was the reason for his long journey to this strange city. From his pocket he pulled a folded parchment of paper, and opening it revealed a worn out photo of the woman he sought. Her eyes flashed lasciviously at him, calling him, pleading to him. She needed him. A coy smile pulled at the edge of his lips.
He did a stupid thing the other night and was careless with his current condition, but continued despite his better judgement. He went to an old club… and he saw her.
After all these years of studying the picture in his hand and knowing her, he’d never really prepared himself for just how Reanna Jamie Kossinton actually was in real life.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Tuesday, July 10th, 2007 - 18:55
“I don’t know what it is.”
…
“K, well, maybe I do. But it’s just so…” Sigh. “It’s too hard to explain.”
“It’s really that hard, is it?”
Reah refrained from trying to glare around the lounge again. “Yes.”
“You know what it is. We’ve worked through this many times before.”
“And yet…”
“Yes. And yet.”
“Well you know what I think?”
“Yes.” Dr. Pecmind calmly interjected without raising his eyes as Reah pushed herself up from the lounge, rising to her feet. She continued, sternly ignoring his comment as she stepped around closer to the door.
“I think that I’ve been coming here for however long now, and I still don’t seem to be improving any!” She took a breath and one step closer, just short of the door handle. “Therefore,”
“You should sit yourself back down.”
Reah’s eyes narrowed on the slight, old little man. In any other circumstance, she would have considered him cute in his oversized, high-backed chair. … in any other circumstance…. “Why?”
The little man sighed, removing his half-moon glasses for a studious polish. He still didn’t raise his head to acknowledge her. “Because you’ll remember what happened last time.”
Torn between stubborn pride and common sense, Reah stiffly held her ground, fists shaking with the sheer effort of not stalking from the office. Finally, she grudgingly gave in to his warning and stalked back to throw herself down on the curvy lounge. “Happy?”
“I don’t care for happy, or any other emotion I have.”
“Bloody hell, I hate you.”
“I only have interest in what you feel.”
“Well, you already know: there ain’t MUCH!” Reah rolled her eyes, burrowing the back of her head into the cushion. She could tell he was looking down his nose at her now, over the tops of his glasses and through the couch she lay upon. “Fine! I get angry. You know it, I know it, let’s have a friggen parade, already!” Why did she ever come here? Surely she could have done this on her own. Working through her own emotions and thoughts…. Couldn’t be that hard! Certainly wasn’t worth all this.
“Lets not.” He sighed. “You can get better Reanna, but it’s not an easy thing that’s going to happen over night.”
“It won’t happen over night, but it will happen.” Reah muttered to herself, mocking an old line from a shampoo ad. If Dr. Pecmind heard, you’d be hard pressed to tell as he continued on as normal.
“For you, especially, it’ll be harder.” His voice was so automatic, so singled from emotion, but it wasn’t monotonous. It was strange - and in some respects, annoying - how much his tone of voice would vary just enough, in just the right places, to provoke emotions from Reah, yet betray nothing of his own.
“You make it so hard for yourself to accept things; so hard for yourself to fit in; you hold yourself back and suffer yourself on purpose. Don’t say you don’t,” He was swift to add the last just as Reah opened her mouth. “In some ways you like it. A chronic mental flaw you have that makes you hunger for the destruction you bring upon yourself. It’s an excuse you hold onto to use against everyone else, proclaiming it’s their fault rather than your own. Am I right?”
Reah made a hissing sound. “What? That I enjoy suffering?”
“Yes.”
“Bugger off!” She snorted, rolling her eyes.
Dr. Pecmind sighed once more and continued lecturing. “You do. And you do know it. You just don’t want to listen to what I’m saying. Don’t want to accept it.”
“Really? Is that so. You’re just using…. You’re trying to put me down!”
“I’m not,” He replied calmly. “I’m simply stating what is.”
Reah went silent for a time, eyes narrowed a distant corner of the room while she tried forcing herself to be nice and concider what the freaky little man said – if only just to prove him wrong about her.
“Can you agree?”
Reah continued to remain silent, though her mind started to drift to other things than what it was supposed to be concentrating on. When he spoke again, she inclined her head to ascertain what he’d said before even thinking what she was going to reply! “Um… I don’t know.” She heard another sigh and secretly wondered if the man even had a button to push. If she were him, she’d be bashing her head against the corner of his desk!
“How are you feeling right now?”
Readjusting herself on the long couch, Reah squirmed for a good while before she felt even remotely comfortable. “Ok, I guess.”
“Don’t just answer me. Answer the question.”
Reah childishly mimicked the man in silence before closing her eyes and attempting to concentrate on the question. Breathing in deeply, she let out a long sigh and carefully considered. “I’m not happy… that much is for sure. I don’t know,” Her face scrunched up and she shrugged uncomfortably. “Alone… responsible. Angry and hateful! I don’t really like you, sorry.” She didn’t mean her apology, but she could tell he nodded in acceptance, anyway.
“Most people don’t. It’s hard to accept the parts of ones self they don’t want to. Hearing it from another is even worse. Though it makes targeting the blame easier, allowing themselves to believe the other as a liar, rather than a casual, unbiased observer.
“At least you’re honest.”
“No, I have no troubles admitting,” Reah opened her eyes, nodding. “I really don’t like you. Most times I just want to smash your head in. You cool with that?”
“Yes.”
“Can I?”
“No.”
“Figured.” Reah hurrumphed. It wasn’t as though she actually expected him to say yes. Not at all! Only a crazy person would.
A silence fell over the room. Reah contemplating her ‘self’, and Dr. Pecmind contemplating whatever it was Dr. Pecminds contemplated.
Suddenly Reah broke through it. “You know… um….” She faltered.
“Mm?”
Reah sighed. Whatever she was going to say, she had no idea how to say it. “Nothing.” The knowledge of the feeling was there, but putting it into words was just too… tricky.
“No, please. If there’s something you need to say… that’s what I’m here for. Remember.”
Reah frowned. How could she forget! Did he think her stupid? Probably.
“No really. I’m sure it’s nothin’. I don’t even really know what it is I was wanting to say.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, I really don’t!”
“What you don’t know is how to say it.”
Oh God how she hated this guy. “Well maybe I can’t. Maybe I shouldn’t and that’s why I can’t.”
“You’re not a child Reanna. Grow up.”
Kick. Him. In. The. Head! “Look! I don’t know! Whatever it is, whichever way; I. Don’t. Know.”
Silence came again. Reah’s sigh was the only thing to be heard as more minutes passed and they continued to dwell.
“I feel… like I’m being watched.” There.
“Hm?”
Oh crap, she hated it when he did this. He often pretended he wasn’t listening at times, or couldn’t hear her, just to make her repeat herself. She was sure it was some other stupid form of therapy. He seemed to have many of these.
“I SAID ‘I FEEL LIKE I’M BEING WATCHED!” Reah waited expectantly, but he didn’t say anything. The leather of the lounge creaked as she twisted around to peer back at him. “I feel like I’m being watched. I doubt that’s really saying anything, other than the fact that I’m paranoid, but…. Are you listening?”
“I’m listening. Don’t panic.”
Reah flipped herself back over and slid further down the chair.
“Are they real?” He finally asked after a time.
“Yeah…” Reah sighed, then froze, scrunching her face. “No…. Fuck! I don’t even know.”
“Have you seen them?”
“Yes. That, definitely yes. But I blink, and they suddenly disappear! And I get a really weird feeling too.”
“You’re not hallucinating this being, are you?”
Reah frowned. “No. At least… I don’t think so.”
“Do you feel as though you’re being judged by this being?”
She had to think on that one, but when she did… “I don’t know. It varies. Sometimes I think there’s more than one…”
“But,”
“But… I’ve only ever see the same one.”
“How have your moods been at these times?”
Reah shrugged. “I suppose they’ve varied. I don’t know.”
His questions kept coming, one right after the other without pause. “You don’t know? Have you been writing in your journals?”
“Yes,” Reah groaned. Oh how she hated those damned journals. “I’ve been writing in the fucking journals.”
“So you’d be keeping track of the times you’ve been watched, correct?”
…
“Yeah….”
“Do you have them here for me to see?” Reah grudgingly handed them over, keeping her letters for Dre’an to herself. She would only ever read them to Dr. Pecmind if he asked, but she would never actually leave them with him. “I think we can call that the session for today, Reanna.” Reah sighed with heavy relief. “But I’d like you to come back tomorrow afternoon. If you’re busy, don’t be. I’m not happy with the irregularity of your visits, and I really believe this is good for you. Especially from what you’ve just told me, I’m eager to delve into it right away.
“For now, go.”
There was nothing more to be said after that. When he said go, she went. Fast.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Wednesday, July 11th, 2007 - 11:26am
“Alrighty Quin! Today’s your lucky day.”
“Why’s today my lucky day Reanna.” Quin glanced at Reah with growing impatience at another of her cousin’s stupid moods that unfortunately, unlike all other lost traits and traditions they used to have back in Australia, still frequented. Of late they’ve been popping up fresh after one of Reah’s psychotic sessions.
The pair were casually wondering down some boulevard of shops and cafés. It was late morning, the sun was shining, the cars were revving, it was just like being back in Queensland visiting her cousin, Aunt and Uncle with the rest of her family. All they needed now was to stop in one of the outdoor sitting cafés and gossip over a latte! Except Reah was only managing to piss her off and Quin just wanted to slap her. Actually… yes! It was just like the old days.
Quin smiled to herself, a warmth spreading through her that she didn’t often feel. Reah noticed, a smile of her own reflecting Quin’s as she continued. “We’re going to find you a job missy.”
Quin stopped dead. “What!”
“You need a job, Miss lazy pants.”
“Miss lazy pants?!”
Reah’s smug grin was enough to earn herself a slap across the face, and she knew it too. “C’mon! You’ll love it. Nothing like having a job. Plus you’ve got that snooty arse, wanna slap you in the face, posh attitude. You should be able to get a job in a pretty decent place!”
Quin sulked, then glowered back up at Reah. “Well, if I must work, can’t I just work with you at the Armoury?”
Head thrown back laughing, Reah clutched at her sides and tried to control herself. As she gradually calmed down and managed to look back at Quin square in the eyes, her grin widened. “Sorry, that was just even funnier, cos I knew you were being serious.”
Quin seethed. “I hate you.”
“Nah, ya don’t.” Reah’s eyes sparkled as she gave Quin a friendly nudge on the shoulder and gestured to the café they were passing. “C’mon, lets grab some coffee here. We‘ll sit out front, just like old times, yeah?”
“If we must.” Quin conceded, stepping around the barrier. She followed Reah to the far side corner, still situated along side the barrier so they had a clear view of the street. After a moment of waiting and Quin having to put up with watching Reah pull idiotic faces and point out stupid things and people that passed by, a waiter stepped up to take their order.
“Morning girls. What can I-Reah!”
“Hey, Franky my man, what’s up?” Reah smiled at the tall, young bloke. Quin guessed he was no more that twenty years old, but he wasn’t too bad! Had some definite talent. Quin leaned back and offered her own pleasant smile that he caught with a wink and a grin when he looked back to acknowledge her again.
Franky turned back to Reah, all fun and games. “Well, you know. Not much. But can I ask who this lovely lady is that you’ve brought in today?” He said, eyes returning to take Quin in better. Reah noticed and had to keep herself from scoffing amusedly.
“This would be my dearest, darling cousin, Franky.”
“Oh? OH!” His eyes widened as something struck home. “This is Quinala? You’re Quin?”
Quin frowned, confused as to what exactly was passing between the two. “I am.”
“Ha! Shit, sorry bout that. I mean… um. Reah!”
“Yes?” Reah bowed with her eyes, clearly amused, cupping her jaw between thumb and forefinger.
“Did you want me to get Kevin?” Franky asked anxiously, eyes darting occasionally back to Quin.
“That’d be great, Franksie, thanks!” Both Reah and Quin watched him bemusedly as he shuffled off, backing away and near tumbling over one of the outdoor settings before he turned around and dashed inside, completely out of sight. “Now that was odd.”
“I’ll say.” Quin said, creasing her forehead in a stupefied frown. “What was that all about.”
Reah smiled knowingly and Quin literaly near slapped her. “You didn’t, Reah. Tell me you didn’t.”
“Quin!”
“Oh god no.” Quin smothered her face in her hands.
“I got you a job.”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Thurdsay, July 12th, 2007 - 21:10
Damen wasn’t all that bad. Sure he wasn’t that great, but he wasn’t all that bad either. He had his down points - his many down points - but then what man didn’t? No one’s perfect. All that really mattered, especially for someone such as herself who could never have love, was that she at least had someone to come home to at the end of the day. She couldn’t afford to have standards.
“And that’s basically your reason for not trying me out for something, I don’t know, different?”
Reah lowered her take away latte cup to gaze wearily over at Cam in the patrol car’s driver seat. Would he ever stop trying? “You know those reasons already and that it’s not that at all. It’d just be way too awkward and complicated for anything to ever happen between us.”
Cam’s mouth thinned and he lowered his head, nodding. “The Hyde thing again.”
“Yeah, that pesky Hyde thing again. And hey, my little cousin.”
Cam was shaking his head, unconsciously clenching his fist on the steering wheel. “I couldn’t help… I didn’t….” He muttered incomprehensibly, frustrated.
“Forget it. It ain’t like you could have done anything anyway.” Reah sighed. “And I’m over it. It’s Quin I’m thinking about. I’m trying to provide a semi-normal life for her and having you visit the house would just… you know. Then there’s also the fact that I’m just no good for you.”
Cam snorted softly under his breath. “You’re that sure you’re of it, eh? You’re a funny person Reah.”
“Yeah, I’m a comedian.”
The pair fell silent, eyes downcast and barely watching the streets like they should be, rather they just flittered about anywhere they could so long as they weren’t looking at the other. The police radio crackled as someone called for some patrol in some sector to see some thing. Cam merely looked at the thing blandly before tuning his attention back to the streets, propping his elbow up on the rolled down window.
“I told you we don’t really need that on, remember?” Reah said, glancing at his disheartened self. He shifted uncomfortably when she spoke and she knew why.
“I remember.”
“Because of that whole cybernetic enhancement I have in my head that allows me to tune into any communication frequency, remember?”
“Reanna…”
“And if you want, I can check the tele for the latest update on the Lakers game, cos these aren’t my real eyes, remember? They too are cybernetic enhancements. Like computers. Making me less human, remember, cos they cost me some essence of my self, remember? My soul?”
“Shut up, Reah. I don’t care, so stop trying.” Cam said, falling silent for a moment before adding. “And you’re not missing part of your soul, so you can stop saying that too.”
“How do you know? You don’t exactly look like the expert here buddy.”
“I know what I see.”
“And what’s that?”
“Let’s just leave it, k.”
Reah harrumphed, slumping back in her seat. “Fine. But my essence is my soul, and there’s no point denying it.”
Cameron never raised his voice once, always held an inexplicable calm, but that didn’t mean he could shut up and drop a topic as easily as he said. “Vampires are soulless. You’re not a vampire.”
“No, I’m not. I still have part of my soul and lack the demon bit. That doesn’t mean much though.” Reah thought for a moment before adding. “If I’d wanted to, though, I could have implanted so much shit into myself that I’d be even less than a vampire. I’d have no sense at all of humour, no sense of fun, sadness, anything. I’d be consumed by it all. I’d be a street sam. Deadly fucks those dudes, if you ever crossed one, deadlier than any vampire or slayer I‘ve ever known. Great warriors, but trying to get a decent conversation out of one is like drawing blood from a stone. They’re a hairs breath off being nothing more than machines.” She sniffed. “Even vampires have a step up on that.”
Cameron shook his head and glanced at her over his shoulder before looking back at the street. “Point is you’re not that, Reah. You told me so yourself once when you admitted that you purposely didn’t do anything too obvious to yourself. You couldn’t, and that’s enough for me.” He sighed. “You’re human, not a freak. You’re different and perfectly capable of love.”
“And we’re back to that, again.” Reah sighed, dropping her gaze to her hands before placing one on Cam’s shoulder to draw his attention. “I’m sorry. Once, maybe, but not anymore.”
“I know.” Cam unwillingly resigned to agree. “I know.” A few moments more passed that the two just sat there, eyes locked. Reah tried smiling in a weak attempt to brighten his spirits. He was a good man, Cameron, and a great friend. Probably one of her best at the moment. Cameron eventually smiled back, lowering his eyes and staring back at the wheel. He snorted, amused. “You know, I think those sessions you’re doing with that doctor are actually helping. How did you go yesterday? Well?”
“Oh shut up, ya cock face. You’re only saying that to make me think going is actually worth while.” She chuckled, jabbing him in the arm. “You and Dr. Pecmind both. It’s a CONSPIRACY I TELL YOU!”
Cam laughed and smiled back at her. “On second thoughts, you’re still one crazy little fucker.” Reah struck her tongue out and grinned just as the police radio crackled again, calling for backup at some robbery.
Cameron picked up the mouthpiece and answered the call, then glanced up at Reah. “What do you say! Wanna come for a ride?”
“Can I drive?”
“Hell no.”
Reah sniffed, grinning as she pulled down and fastened her seatbelt. “You’re no fun. Oh! And hey! Mind if we swing by and you can drop me off at Quin’s work when she finishes? I got her a job.” She said, smiling proudly. “It was her first shift today.”
Cameron laughed. “You’re crazy, but sure.”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Wednesday, July 4th 2007 - 10:00 pm
Los Angeles Docks
An hour and a half after feeding, Benji stepped onto the longest pier at the docks. He'd decided to take in a show. Silently, he looked at the sky, then glanced at his watch. Any minute now...
"What're you lookin' at, man?" young, impetuous vamp Walt whined from behind him. “There are people to kill out there, and I’m still hungry…”
Julia brushed her dyed hair back and crept to Benji’s shoulder. “What is it?”
Benji silently grinned and pointed up to the sky. There was a crackle of energy in the air, and a sudden burst of color erupted over the harbor. “There,” Benji whispered. “They’re launching from a barge down the way.” He pointed to a long splotch in the distant waters.
Julia’s eyes lit up. Just her luck: reborn on the 4th of July! She waved her hand above her head and cheered. As another swirling rope of sparks soared above, she clutched Benji’s arm.
Walt grumbled a remark between his fangs. “Uh-huh. Pretty!” he intoned sardonically. His lips twitched, which meant he was still hungry. And if Walt was still hungry he wouldn’t have time for any of this crap.
Benji shrugged—he didn’t appreciate Walt’s impatience. “It’s a simple pleasure. And I’m a simple vampire.” A fireworks display was one of the only things Benji could ever get excited about, even in his human years. His father ran a small fireworks stand during the summer and business always picked up around the 4th. Better business always meant extra spending money for the family, a bonus that Benji and his sister Joy took full advantage of.
Benji turned as he felt a sudden tug at his arm. Why was Julia pulling at him? He tried to see, but Julia was no longer beside him. Walt had yanked her from her position and proceeded to lead her from the pier.
“But I wanted to see the fireworks, Walt!” Julia complained in a hushed tone. “I’m not that hungry, you know.”
“Whatever, Jules. I admit: at first I kinda thought hanging around with an older, more experienced vamp might be fun, but I don’t think this guy has any--”
“Ball!” Julia laughed. She ran back to Benji and clapped her hands. “A ‘Magic Eight-ball’,” she said. “I always loved those things…and yours is so tiny!” It was, indeed, a miniature. “It’s hard, though, because you can only ask it a ‘Yes or No’ question…”
"Yeah. It can be tricky." Benji rolled the small toy in his hands and smiled lightly. “I find them handy for…you know. Whenever my mind needs made up.”
Walt rolled his eyes and threw up his arms, defeated. “Good. Now they’re playing with toys."
With a sly and curious look, Julia edged closer to Benji’s face. “So, whatcha gonna ask it?”
“Now that is a secret.” He leaned to the toy and closed his eyes solemnly. It was obvious that he was uttering a question in his head right before he shook the eight-ball vigorously. Julia folded her arms in anticipation.
The small triangle in the center rolled up through the murky blue liquid. “Yes” it foretold. Benji nodded with a sigh.
“Yes? YES!” Julia said giddily. Her face went blank, however, and then she looked confused. “Yes for what?”
“Well, I was going to wait a while, but apparently there’s no time like the present. Walt, Julia: come with me.”
Walt was not amused. “Lead on, O Captain,” he smirked. As soon as Benji paced ahead of them Julia and Walt followed the enigmatic vamp away from the docks and into the city streets of L.A.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Thurdsay, July 12th, 2007 - 22:09
Quin ran about, nerves still on high and hair slightly frazzled. *Jesus christ, how could Reah submit me to such a torturous thing! Where the hell are the bloody forks in this place!* “Um, Jea…. Jeanine!”
A girl whipped around from whatever she was doing and smiled at her as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hey Quinala. What’s up?”
“Um, where are the forks?” Quin blushed. She hated the feeling of incompetency. She really was going to kill Reah for this.
Jeanine smiled and led her across the floor. “Just over here. And hey, quit panicking. You’re doing fine. You won’t be fired for not knowing where the forks are on your first shift.”
“I know, sorry. I’m just being ridiculous, I know.” Quin said, rubbing a shaky hand through her hair. Who would have thought her first shift would have been so busy! She was near wetting herself it was that bad. She’d even had to throw up once. Oh how dead Reah would be when she saw her next.
“Relax. Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem!” Jeanine smiled. “And call me Neanie if you like. Most others here do. Also,” Jeanine stepped closer and motioned Quin in so she could whisper. “My first shift, I threw up three times.” Quin pulled back, staring at the girl incredulously who gave her an encouraging wink. “Yeah, I know.”
“Quin!”
Both girls’ heads turned to the her name being called. For some stupid reason Quin felt a cold dread rush through her, but Jeanine just placed a friendly hand on her shoulder and smiled. “Don’t worry, I think it’s just the end of your nightmare.”
“Right! Okay. Goodo.” Quin nodded to herself reassuringly and made her way across the floor to the bar.
“Pardon me Miss?”
“Wha?” Quin spun anxiously to the voice and arm that suddenly sprung up out of nowhere, her heart beating faster and faster again. Her nightmare was supposed to be over!
“Do you have any chips? Are they hot? How much are they?”
“I ah… do you… um…”
“Quin, it’s cool, I’ll grab them. Go se Kev.” Quin nodded, heart still rapidly beating as she slowly backed away. She could hear Jeanine returning to address the customers. “Sorry about that ladies. Now what can I do for you?”
“Hey, Quin! How’d you like your first shift?” Kev looked down at Quin who gazed back with a stricken look across her face. “Hehe, yeah, that’s what all the newies usually say. Well, no matter. Despite what you may think, you did good tonight, and guess what? You get to relax for a whole ‘nother eighteen hours! Before your next shift.”
“Oh!” Quin’s had to swallow her heart, she’d swear it was lodged in her throat. “Yay for me.”
Kev chuckled. “Yeah. And you said you’ve had absolutely no experience before this?”
Quin shook her head. “None, sir.”
“Well! You did exceptionally good then. I think we can expect good things from you Quin. And call me Kev like everyone else. Sir just makes me uncomfortable.”
“Oh, sorry s… Kev.” Quin exhaled deeply, then smiled. Her heart had finally settled down somewhat.
Kev smiled back. “Not a problem Quin, it was a pleasure having you tonight. Now you can keep your apron, I think your cousin’s waiting for you outside.”
“Reah?” Quin’s ears pricked up and her head swivelled to the front of the café where, sure enough, there was Reah sitting at one of the outdoor settings, sipping a latte. Quin couldn’t restrain herself, as soon as she had her bag she was printing for the door and barging right into Reah, bracing her in a massive bear hug. “Oh Reah!”
Her cousin chuckled. “Hiya Quin! How was your - ow - first shift?” Reah groaned. “Quin, you’re crushing me.”
“Oops! Sorry.” Quin blushed, backing off.
“So! How’d you go?”
“Good! Apparently…” Quin sighed, a weary smile jittering on her face. She was still calming down. “By the way, remind me to kill you later on tonight, ok?”
Reah laughed. “Yeah sure Quin. Whatever you want. So long as you stop sneaking my credit card now, yeah?” She grinned. Quin froze on the spot. She hadn’t known Reah was ever even aware! “C’mon Quin, don’t dawdle. We’re walking home and I have to work tomorrow morning, so don’t complain.”
The two had been strolling briskly along for some time, side by side when Reah suddenly felt an awfully familiar sensation of being watched again. She shivered. Something about it just cut her deep to the bone and she looked about to try and see where the feeling was directed from, but found nothing. It felt… twisted, almost perverted, like she was being mentally striped and probed by some unseen being.
Reah glanced quickly down at Quin to try and distract herself from whatever was out there and noticed her cousin shiver too. She frowned, concerned. “You ok Quin?”
“Um, yeah. Just cold.” Quin kept her gaze lowered to the footpath and shrugged deeper into her coat.
“Okay….” Reah continued to frown and looked around the city surrounding them once more, checking windows, doorways, ally-ways, side streets, rooftops, shopfronts, everywhere. She glanced back at Quin’s huddled body that shivered again and pursed her lips. Normally she may have accepted her comment on it being cold, but since it was practically a 25 degree celcius night! She couldn’t help but think Quin wasn’t being entirely honest with her.
The remainder of their journey home had Reah warily keeping a close eye on every inch of their surroundings.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Friday, July 13th, 2007 - 14:28
“It’s an early 16th century Claymore.”
“Right…. Is it any good?”
Reah stared back at the customer blandly. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen it in action. It’s a 16th century Claymore. But I’m sure it’ll lob a good head or two if you give the scamp a chance!”
“Mhmm…”
*Oh for fucks….* Reah irritably started tapping her ringed thumb against the till as they thoughtfully studied the item with the special expertise of a moron who hadn’t a clue what they were doing.
The ring was actually new. A nice, simple silver band Cam had bought and given to her last night while she was hanging out with him on his patrol shift. A friendship ring, he figured since he wasn’t going to be getting anything more from her, he at least wanted that to be certain. She’d cut the thumb on her already fingerless gloves right back so she could wear it properly.
“Look,” Reah snapped, her patience at its end. “If its for show, which I’m assuming it would be, then go the Claymore if you like it!”
“Umm…”
Counting the seconds as they ticked past - considering that not even bad customer service was going to make this person disappear - Reah drifted off, thinking of all the places she’d much rather be than there. Which was pretty much anywhere. Hell would have been a welcomed alternative.
Reah sighed tiredly and propped herself against the counter, resting her chin in her hands.
At the sight of another potential customer cloaked in some heavy black coat with a shadowing hood lurking at the shopfront display windows, she let out a small groan. *Great! Yet another person who wants to impress their friends and look cool by owning a sword. Well, I can see you’ve already got the dark and sinister cloak thing happening, mister. So go you!* She sat there and watched as they started to turn away, taking a couple of steps and continuing back down the footpath, snatching one last glance before they disappeared. It was then that Reah’s awareness suddenly triggered.
Frowning after them, Reah straightened from the bench and side-stepping to see if she could still catch sight of them, but they were gone. It was only at that last glance that she’d just realised they hadn’t actually looked at the merchandise once! They’d been watching her. She’d swear on her parents graves.
*Oh yay!* Reah thought, snidely. “Yet another conspiracy theorist who’s on to me.”
“What was that?” Her customer suddenly said.
*Sure! Choose to listen to me now!* Reah rolled her eyes and waved off the comment. “Nothing! I was just muttering sarcastically to myself.” She half-heartedly answered. “Some weirdo was lurking about my windows, there.”
The customer twisted around to have a look, then turned back, nodding passively to themselves as they now studied the sword they were holding out on two hands before them. “There’s some strange people everywhere nowadays. I half the time find myself wondering how people can live with themselves.”
Reah merely nodded politely, speculative eyebrow raised at the customer before reassuming her position against the counter. *Didn’t really ask for your opinion, but thanks anyway!* She grunted, then thought back to her lunch and how much she missed it. *That was a great foccacia.*
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Saturday, June 30, 2007
7:55 pm
Malibu Beach
"Damn it!" Ellis cursed and let go of her shoulder to take his right foot. A bloody spot grew and he grimaced when he took the sharp edge of a broken shell off his skin. "Serves me right for walking barefoot!"
Alessa giggled, and took the offending seashell before he could threw it away in anger. She'd throw it as soon as she saw a fitting place. "Maybe you should sue the city. For damages, is it you say?"
"Yes," he muttered, distracted, and looked at the rising line of the water. He hadn't realized they had been walking for so long. He couldn’t see the sun no longer, it had already hidden behind the line of palm trees at their back, and the moon was already showing, low in the horizon.
The cut in his foot forgotten, he sat down on the dry sand of the beach. He watched the waves break hard before gently lapping the shore. The thought of he and Alessa being like the waves crossed his mind. They had broken hard together in desire and were now heading slowly into tenderness. At least it seemed they were.
Alessa's talking startled him and he looked up to see her smiling at him.
"Room for me?" She repeated, and her nerves caused her stomach to flutter as he looked about the beach before realizing what she meant.
Parting his knees slowly he smothered his jacket onto the sand between his legs and then let her settle on it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her back pressed against his chest and his arms encircled her. Allowing his chin to rest on her shoulder, he stared out to sea with her, watching the waves still and wondering what was going to happen next.
Alessa chewed her lip slightly and let her fingers caress the smooth skin of his arms where they were wrapped around her. She'd missed this; the quieter, tender moments. There hadn't been many with Delancre - not this heartfelt - it had mostly been a whirlwind of passion. She tensed for a second, and then brushed the memories of Delancre aside, she had been trying not to think about him for two weeks now, not always succeeding, but it wasn’t fair of her to bring him into this moment. Not that he'd be away from her life ever. Relaxing backwards again, she let her cheek brush against his, her eyes closing at the warmth it sent through her.
There was no denying that she felt something for this man, had felt something for this man, even Hyde infected. She wondered what had happened that made her finally accept it. Curling up against him, she let her mind ponder about how she was going to breach it to him, while her body sung at the contact between them. She listened to the sound of his breathing mixing with the rushing noise the sea made as it softly broke against the sand. She felt him relax too and could tell he was about to tell when she cut him off, her tone quiet and cautious.
"It's gonna be complicated." She said, as if going on with a previous conversation, which, in a way, she was.
"It's always complicated, Alessa." His soft tones caressed her ear as he whispered into it.
She paused for a beat, unsure of how to proceed.
"It's dangerous." Her voice faltered slightly, "being with me, I mean.
"Sounds like my kind of thing…" Ellis smiled warmly, hoping she would be able to hear it in his voice even if she couldn't see it; her eyes were still fixed on the waves
"No, I mean it. I seem to be mala suerte, a jinx, to those around me. Look what happened to Morris, to Chance…"
"I don’t mind. I can take care of myself." He cut her, pressing a kiss in her temple. "I love you, Alessa. Nothing you could say will change that."
"Nothing I could do?" she couldn’t help asking, and her voice broke, tears welling in her eyes. "Nothing I did…?"
Ellis took a deep breath and sighed, it was more than coming up with excuses. He understood her worries, living with oneself after Hyde wasn’t easy, but they would manage.
"No, nothing you did will change it. It's in the past, Alessa. We both did despicable things, it's time to move on."
He paused, giving her time to process his words.
"So, what are we going to do?" she asked, finally.
"Grow old together?" he asked, and chuckled at the impossibility of the thought. Something that had occurred to him before. "I have my doubts too, you see? I'll be an old man when you are still young, you may tire of me."
"Never." She jumped in, and turned to smile at him. "I like older men; and if you grow old to be like your daddy, you'll be sexy."
"The Demon Police isn’t a merry go round trip. My life is dangerous too..."
"Good, you know I can help you there."
"I work long hours. I'll have to travel a lot," he went on, smiling. He liked her finding solutions for his objections.
"You know what they say about sailors, they make the best husban-" she stopped, suddenly embarrassed. "I didn’t just say that, did I?"
He just arched an eyebrow. "Would it be that bad?"
She frowned, somehow it didn’t. "No… just not that soon." She turned in his arms, and he let go of her to give her some space. "I'm not ready for too much yet, Ellis. I still need time. Could we- I mean, can we just take it slow?"
He looked into her eyes and amazed at their green clarity. There was love there, even if she couldn’t manage to say the words yet. Nodding, he kissed the tip of her nose gently. It was a monumental decision on her part to finally let him in and he knew it hadn't come easy.
"This is just the beginning, querida," reaching again to hold her tight, he went on. "We have all the time in the world."
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Wednesday, July 4th 2007 - 11:15 PM
Outside an anonymous haunt
"Are we there yet?" came the familiar cry. Julia was lagging behind and growing overcome with curiosity-or was it boredom? Walt gave her an “I told you so” nod. But, of course, the nod wasn’t enough for Walt.
“I told you so,” he whispered to her. “This guy’s lost it.”
“This is it kids,” Benji replied, hushing Walt’s snide comments. He motioned for the two followers to come closer and led them into a dimly lit alleyway. Benji gestured at a crudely spray-painted sign on the alley wall before them, but it was almost to dark to decipher what it said. Actually, the darkness worked in the sign’s favor. Splashed in blood-red letters was a signal, a code for all passing vamps…
“Youth: Hostile.”
A blank look crossed Walt’s face. “I don’t get it,” he droned.
“It’s a haven, smart-ass. You may not realize it, but a sizable contingent of Los Angeles’ vampires were abandoned by their sires-that’s creators-early on. This is but one of a few places where they can go.” Benji touched the graffiti delicately, unconsciously tracing his fingers along the letters.
“Go? Go for what, exactly?”
Benji pressed a finger to his chin. “Well…what did you come to me for in the first place?”
“Touché,” Walt growled. A few paces away, Julia’s face filled with wonder. To see the two vamps locked in a verbal spar was quite amusing to her.
Benji was right, he assumed, about Walt and Julia’s motives. When he found them outside the cemetery, soil-coated and bewildered, he didn’t really want anything to do with them. But he remembered the night he crawled out of the unpaved site of a mall parking lot-alone. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to set them straight about the whole vampire deal, Benji thought at the time. Besides: what else was there to do?
“So, who came up with the name?” Walt began to laugh smugly.
“Would you prefer ‘Foster’s Home for Bastard Vamps’ instead?” Benji inched towards the small steps leading inside the building.
Julia laughed and interjected with a snort. “Can we go in?” she asked Benji quaintly.
“That’s why you’re here,” he responded. Confidently he patted his right cargo pocket, the one in which he transported his Magic Eight-Ball. “Apparently it is meant to be.”
Julia charge up the steps and dashed inside the YH while Walt hung back. “I get it,” he said once Julia had left earshot. It finally clicked for him. “Goody. We passed your little test. And what woulda happened if we didn’t?”
Benji tilted his head whimsically and stretched. With playful poise he ran his hand along the short railing. When he pulled his hand into the light he revealed a small pile of dust in the palm of his hand. Raising it to his lips, he blew the particles into the dark night air. As the thin cloud danced past Walt, a silence fell over him. Walt’s eyes widened as Benji casually ascended into the establishment.
Would Benji have actually dusted young Walt and Julia? That, not even Benji knew. If he asked the Almighty Eight Ball, “Should I take them to Youth: Hostile?” and it had said NO, he would have had to interrogate it further to decide on the two vamp’s lives. Generally, Benji didn’t mind a sense of randomness in his choices. Feed on a man tonight, or a woman? After dusk or just before dawn? These matters were arbitrary. The most important decisions, however, perhaps only the true “milestones” of his existence, were the ones in which he needed direction. This was one of those times, and he hoped that the eight ball hadn’t failed him.
Moonlight Bay
Friday, 13th July 2007 – 9:38pm
Hamilton Cove, Santa Catalina Island
A heavy sigh escaped Kate’s lips as she dropped her luggage on the floor and glanced around at her new surroundings. The small cabana was simply decorated but looked every bit the perfect island getaway with wide French doors leading out onto the deck, bamboo furniture and a big four poster bed adorned with billowy white chiffon voiles.
Kate smiled, trailing her hand across the crisp cotton sheets as she walked up to the windows. It had been Galen’s idea to get away from the city for a few days. He’d had the time booked off work since their return from England and with the present situation concerning Majestic it seemed like a perfect opportunity to put some distance between themselves and the rest of LA.
Pushing open the windows, Kate stepped out onto the deck that wrapped itself around the snug cabana, it was a little chill and so she wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm.
“So… how do you like the view?”
Kate turned slightly and smiled as Galen stepped out onto the deck also. He was much more concerned about his friend’s warning than he was willing to admit, Kate knew it, she could feel it whenever he looked at her or held her close as if to protect her from any impending harm. It was why she had agreed to his suggestion that they get away for a few days, she wasn’t sure it would make any difference to their safety but if it would put her husband’s mind at rest – even for a short while, it would be worth it.
Gently she reached out a hand and stroked Galen’s cheek, stretching up slightly to lay an appreciative kiss upon his lips. “It’s beautiful,” she said quietly, admiring her husband’s handsome features in the moonlight before she turned back to admire the view.
Kate’s eyes flittered across the horizon, taking in the serene panorama. The wide curve of the harbour circled the bay while the same moonlight that had so perfectly highlighted her husband’s face shimmered across the surface of the placid ocean like molten silver. “It’s very beautiful indeed.”
Galen wrapped his arms around Kate’s waist, holding her close while leaning in over her shoulder. “It is, isn’t it?”
Kate sighed contentedly, relaxing more comfortably into Galen’s embrace as the two of them stood silently for what felt like an eternity, watching the slight roll of the ocean and the patterns of light that danced across it’s inky waves… and feeling like the only two people in the entire world.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Saturday, 14th July, 2007
4:22 AM
“I think we need to talk.”
Liala did not reply, but instead ushered Darian to his bed. “You need to rest my love.”
“No. Stop,” Darian replied annoyed, brushing her tender hand away from a cut on his forehead. “You cant do this.”
“Do what?”
“This! Show up, and pretend that things can just take off from where we left off, or rather, where you decided to leave off,” Darian replied, standing back to his feet.
Reaching out to take his hand, the undine smiled reassuringly. “What does it matter my love? We are both eternal, undying...the time we spent apart is nothing more than a blink of the eye.”
“A blink of the eye? You call practically a century a blink of the eye?” Darian huffed angrily, snapping back his hand.
“You still think like a human Darian, obsessed with the trivialness of time. But unlike the mortals, we are not bound by clocks and watches. Our love has eternity to bloom,” She finished softly, standing up to move next to him. “Just forget the past, it’s over now.”
Darian stood there silently, not knowing what to say. He had imagined this moment countless times since the day she left him, and he had rehearsed over and over what he would say to her, but things are never the same when you’re actually in the moment.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled out finally, taking his seat back on the bed. “I just don’t know.”
“Why must you make things so complicated? I can sense how you really feel remember?” Liala asked, not understanding why this conversation wasn’t finished yet. She would never really understand the mortal mentality.
Ignoring her question, Darian turned to finally look his former lover in the eyes. “Why did you leave me?”
For what seemed an eternity, Liala just sat there, obviously contemplating something before she finally broke the never ending silence. “You wouldn’t…couldn’t understand.”
And that was all she said. After breaking his heart into a million pieces, and abandoning him for close to one hundred years, she couldn’t even grant him a simple explanation.
Averting his gaze from hers, Darian turned to open the window, allowing the refreshing summer air to flow into the room. “Get out.” His voice was shaky, but there was no denying the severity of the tone.
For a moment the undine seemed aghast, shocked by her love’s demand. But she obeyed, rising to her feet once more. “I do still love you Darian Gray. Remember that,” she replied softly before slipping through the door.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
July 5th
9:05 pm
The smell assaulted Ellis as he entered the building behind Mike. He saw that the big man was covering his nose with a handkerchief and he promptly did the same before stepping further. Mike reached to his right and turned on the lights. The long fluorescent lights, placed high on the ceiling, illuminated the room with a creepy glow, as creepy as the sight that welcomed them in full force.
It was a workroom; rows of sewing machines were evidence of that. Stacks of orderly stored fabrics were piled high against the walls, and bright coloured thread cones, embroidery spangle, beads, pearls and crystals glittered in neatly lined glass jars along many shelves. There were long narrow windows high on the walls, and a big skylight in the ceiling. Ellis guessed that the place would have been quite another sight not many hours before; when sunlight steamed through the windows and the workers were still alive…
"Exlers." He simply said, assessing the scene around him quickly and professionally.
The corpses were sprawled over every surface, many with their hands still clutching the fabrics and threads they were working on at the moment of the attack, obviously they had not had time to realize what was happening before meeting their death. Most of them were females too. It was not unusual to find Exlers employed in places like this, their race was eagerly sought for their craftsmanship in sewing and embroidering. Exler's four small and capable hands were very fit for the miniature stitches required in high couture clothes.
Ellis softly removed a rich wedding gown bodice, half embroidered with pearls and small crystals - now ruined with yellowish blood - from the rigid hands of one of the demonesses. Her mutilated body showed signs of breeding, and her staring eyes still registered a look of horror. Nauseated, Ellis turned around to look at Mike who was slowly advancing through the chaos.
"Still no idea of who's doing this?" he asked briskly, a small tremor the only evidence of his fury. Mike stopped his perusal to look at him, searching in his face for the tell tale signs of Hyde violence, returning to his task when he saw none.
"Not yet." Mike squatted and took a cigarette butt from beneath one of the sewing machines, he studied it for a second before putting it into a plastic bag. "Marlboro. Luckily with DNA traces."
"Are the results from the other one ready?"
"Not yet," he said again. "Not that I doubt it's the same. Good to have confirmation, though."
The black man's tone was matter of factly. He didn’t doubt that the hunter responsible for this massacre was the same who had been hunting other demon workers the last two weeks, but they hadn't had much luck in finding him. At least this time they had been able to inspect the place before the owner destroyed any clues. In fact it had been the horrified designer who had come to them, not the other way around, which wasn’t surprising. There weren’t that many couturiers who used demons, and the word that they were investigating the killings had run fast.
"He likes smoking, P-90's…" he bent down again, retrieving several bullet caskets before going on, "and he's very industrious."
"So are we," answered Ellis, then he turned to two men with plastic bags who accompanied them. The men nodded and started the grisly task of cleaning the workroom.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
July 5th
New york city
Darlome walked through the cemetery towards her grave.
It had been his fault she died so young, He wanted to leave the coven and she paid the price for it. They were supposed to have been married today all those years ago but instead he came to the church to visit her grave not marry the only woman he ever loved. He carried a bunch of red roses in his hand just like the ones he had bought her on their first date, they had had a great time and he instantly knew she was the only woman he would ever want. They should have been together forever. He cried.
He did nothing for the next hour but stand in that same spot looking at he name engraved in the stone Amie Wong it would have Mrs Amie Malone today. He chuckled himself she always teased him about his true demon parents deciding to use an more western name when he moved to new York as a child he hadn’t used his real name is so long he almost forgot it Donny Malone, how he loved his fathers warped since of humour the only
Mongolian kid on the block with an Irish name
It began to rain yet he still stayed by her grave just thinking of what could have been. It wasn’t until the storm got worse and he was soaked through he decided to go. He laid the roses on the ground in front of the gravestone and slowly walked out of the cemetery.
*************************************************************
Vince sat alone in the park waiting for the inevitable to happen an teenager all alone in a New York City park at half 12 at night he just had to wait for the right kind of person to come along, then he felt it the presence behind him stalking him
Vince got to his feet and turned and looked into the darkness and spoke “who’s there!” Vince loved to play the poor innocent young boy much easer to hunt when a predator thinks you are easy food, then it vampire burst out from the bush but before it could get within striking range of Vince it felt its body lift from the air and come crashing hard into metal park bench that the kid was sitting on before he had a chance to regain his breath he boy was gone and was replaced by a mammoth demon stating down at him the vampire tried to get back up but some invisible force was pushing him down on the bench unable to move he was helpless and the demon slowly walked forward and became to speak
“I’ll never forget the look on the face of the first person to see me after I came back. The way their whole body trembled in fear of me. The way he screamed as he shot at me, ending his own life in a ball of flame. The look he had in his eyes as he saw the end coming. It was the hardest thing for me to watch, but deep inside in that dark, festering part of my soul, I loved it.”
Vincent’s arm spring out and his fingers impaled themselves into the vampires flesh and he began to feed the blue glow of the vampires life force was quickly depleting Vince’s watched as the vampire aged as he fed, he found this interesting because only vampires would do this the vampire looked around 70 years of age before he finally exploded into dust
Vince wiped himself off and transformed back into the innocent blue eyed young boy
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Friday, July 13th, 2007 - 19:30
What an occupation. Quin wasn’t sure if she’d survive the remainder of her shift, it was all too much! They assured her it should quieten down, but she just couldn’t see it happening anytime soon.
How much longer was left now. Quin checked her watch and let out a relieved sigh - she still had another half hour before she was due back on. She quietly savoured those precious minutes she had, sitting with her head rolled back against the staffroom lounge, gazing forlorn at the ceiling. A click at the door had her head raising to see who it was.
“Oh! Quin, hey. Didn’t realise you were in here. You on your break?” Franky, the waiter who she first met when she came here and Reah was ever so nice to throw a job in her face, was now daftly standing in the doorway before he realised what he was doing and quickly shuffled inside. “What’s doing?”
Quin shrugged, shifting into a more comfortable position. “Not much. Just rebooting my brain.”
“Hehe, yeah. I know what you mean. I got slammed all week my first week.” He shook his head bemusedly. “Fun, fun.”
Quin smiled, her eyes sparkling fondly. She felt strangely at ease around Franky, but couldn’t quite put her finger on why. “Oh, it’s a blast.”
Franky smiled back, then shifted his weight and shoved sweaty hands in his pockets, dropping his gaze abashedly to the ground. “So Quin, I was wondering…”
“Yes?” Quin’s heart fluttered. Something deep down seemed to be warning her, that she shouldn’t be doing this and how wrong it was, but she ignored it.
Franky’s eyes lifted to gaze directly back in her own and she held her breath. “You interested in catching a movie at all this Monday night?”
It was a surprise Quin’s heart didn’t leap right out of her throat and onto the floor. Thankfully, however, she was well trained in the art of composure and managed to keep an outward cool. “Thanks Franky. I’d love to!” Her eyes betrayed a lot of how she was truly feeling, though, despite her well to do efforts.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Saturday, July 14th, 2007 - 14:52
tick tock tick tock…
Reah sat stiffly still on the psychiatry lounge and stared determinedly at a spot on the wall, trying to drill a hole through it with her eyes to take her mind off the excruciating wait Dr. Pecmind was putting her through. The little man had tottered on out of his large office some time ago to collect her journals, and since he’d returned he’d not said ‘boo’ about anything. In all honesty, Reah thought this whole practise to be driving her more insane than sane! What a waste of time, effort and money.
As though he could suddenly see her impatience brimming its peak, he said. “You need to lighten up, Reanna.”
Reah frowned. ‘Lighten up?’ That was hardly what she’d expected him to say. ‘You’re crazy!’ maybe, or ‘Get out of my office, you psychopathic freak!’ but not bloody ‘Lighten up!’ Who did he think he was? A drugged out teenager!
“Lighten up?” She finally said, her distaste for his opinion evident.
“Precisely.”
“It took you that friggen long to come to that conclusion! You couldn’t have told me that the other day when I came in two days in a row!” Reah’d spun around in her seat and was now glaring with eyes aflame over the chair’s back at the old man. “I couldn’t write for how many days?”
“Did you do as I said and not write?” Dr. Pecmind queried without raising his voice in the slightest, but Reah went silent as if she were a child scolded. “Did you?”
“No!”
He sighed. “Reanna, I’m an old man and have no like for silly games. You wrote, didn’t you. Even when there was no need.” They weren’t questions now, either. Mere statements of fact he was certain on.
Reah’s face screwed up and she squirmed back around in her seat. “I didn’t mean to. Hell, I didn’t want to! But…”
“We need to start you’re healing on your own. No more imaginary friends to support you, no matter how comforting and tempting they may be. It’s not healthy for you, Reanna.” He sounded like her father, or grandfather, more like, and she pouted despite herself. She couldn’t stand to hear him talk of Dre’an that way. A figment of her imagination! God but how that stung to hear it. Without him she’d feel empty. How could he even dare to suggest she abandon all memories and fancies of him completely! He had existed! … but then… he hadn’t, either. Not in this world, at least.
Reah let out a mournful sigh and turned her head sideways to rest as he continued on over the top in his most soothing voice.
“You need to get back in touch with your old self, Reanna. All these fantasies of yours are only doing you harm, holding you back from life. You can’t continue to blame what’s happened in the past on anyone, as it’s happened and that’s all there is to it. But you can learn from it. Take comfort in your better memories and just get over your bad.” He paused deliberately as if to let what he’d just said sink in properly before he continued. “You’re still very young, Reanna, much younger than I and I live better than you because I’ve learnt to accept what’s happened and live with the consequences, such as taking you on for a client.” Reah could feel him smile, and frowned herself. Did he just try to crack a joke on her? “The future holds many possibilities for you, and none of them will be known until they arrive. Worrying yourself over what might be is also just as frivolous as clinging to the past. The present is all that matters, as that’s where you’re living.
“So yes, Reanna, lighten up. Do what you should do with your life and live!”
After he’d finished talking, Reah could only sit there in quiet contemplation, but her mind started to drift, as it always seemed to do, and started thinking of what this all possibly sounded like! “Wait… are you saying that after today, I’m free of you? I’m ‘cured’ so to speak?”
The old man chuckled and Reah couldn’t help but frown again. What was up with all this joking and laughter! “I told you previously, Reanna, that healing is a time consuming thing. I’m merely trying to open windows for you now to clear your mind of its cobwebs and broaden it’s vision to see the distant horizon of endless possibilities.” He chuckled once more - it really was an odd sound coming from the man. “I by no means managed to open the door for you to leave.”
Reah sighed. And she thought herself possibly free of this torment. Silly girl.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Saturday, July 14th, 2007 - 23:24
*Need to Lighten up, eh? Well, we’ll see about that!* Reah’s cunning smirk was defiant to believe what Dr. Pecmind had said. As if she doesn’t live! Not free to leave his council yet? Bull shit! She doubted he even really knew what he meant when he talked about living. As much as she hated to admit it, though, he was probably right about one thing - Dre’an. That was a hopeless cause she should just forget about. She had more chance of getting Damen back. At least he’d actually existed here. Be the simple matter of a simple spell! Or not so simple spell, as it would be.
The engine revved on her bike and she tore off from the green changing lights down the highway. She was on the hunt tonight, and there was no other thing in the world that could make her feel more alive than that.
Her eyes scanned over the streets, thermographics a blur to her mind as she raced on past. She’d have a better chance of finding some sport if she just kept to her default vision. Game would jump up at some time, she knew it. Perhaps if she stopped near one of the parks and scoped around there for a bit. Fortunately, luck seemed to be shining on her tonight! Perhaps not the man that was being dragged into the bushes by the other bumpy faced one, but oh well! Reah’s roundabout plan involved saving him, too. So it was just a lucky night all around for everyone!
… except, perhaps the vampire. Oh well! Minor details.
Reah deftly dismounted her bike and skulked on after the demon and his prey. A few branches from a couple of bushes snagged her clothing, but on the whole she was pretty damn quiet. A rabbit couldn’t have heard her coming! Adrenalin pumped through her veins as she switched back to her thermo vision once more and clearly pinpointed her target behind a thicket. This was great! *Take that Dr. Pecmind!*
She leapt out as silent as a dagger in the dark, wrestling the monster’s head back by the nostrils and tearing the poor man free to stumble on the ground. Reah gripped the vampire’s neck in a sleeper lock now as her cunning grin directed at the man she just saved told him to skidaddle, she had the situation all under control. *No need of you, citizen! Run along home to your family now.* Though while Reah recklessly let her guard down long enough to watch the man run off, the vampire thrust a solid elbow to her gut and flipped her over on her arse.
She landed with a grunt and darted her eyes around immediately to pick up where her opponent was likely next to strike from… but found nothing. “You little wussy bugger! Arg….” She snatched herself angrily up on her feet, and with vision still to thermographic mode, Reah tracked the demon’s ever so faint trail deeper into the park, unmindful of where she was actually headed.
Some ten minutes later, Reah reached a clearing that suddenly jerked her out of her trance long enough to look around to try gauging where she was, exactly, but she hadn’t the foggiest. She didn’t really have the time to speculate either as her track was nearly cold when she’d initially begun following it. The blaring horn of a train suddenly hinted to her that she was near the train tracks, but she moved on despite the fact she’d long left the park. Determination to pin this vampire had near consumed her, now.
Continuing on following the trail, it seemed to lead down a steep slope to an old, graffiti vandalised tunnel. The train tracks also ran through here, so she figured it wasn’t likely for the vampire to try for safety in there, even to escape a hunter, and proceeded to cross her way over the smooth steel beams.
She was only halfway over the first set when something suddenly caught her attention. It wasn’t something she’d caught out the edge of her vision, but more that familiar presence she’d felt so often of late. The one that had been intent on following her for sometime now. Her curiosity sparked and she paused, glancing once down the tunnel, then back down the path she was headed before casting her attentions back again down the tunnel where she could see next to nothing in the swelling darkness, even with her enhanced vision. Then, despite all common sense, she mechanically turned herself ninety degrees and strolled warily down the tracks till her bright eyes lit up and she was right in the midst of the tunnel.
Reah cast a watchful eye about for the sign of any movement, but saw nothing, only felt that lingering presence that had only grown stronger with every step.
“I know you’re in here!” Reah called out, her voice reverberating off the old brick walls. “Come out and face me already, I know you want to!” Only silence answered, increasing Reah’s annoyance at their seemingly only ever lingering presence. “C’mon! I’ve had enough already with all this bull shit! Who the hell…” Reah’s rant was cut dramatically short with a squeak as she’d turned and banged right into a figure that had mysteriously appeared behind her.
“Hey!” She started angrily, but soothed over when she gazed into his eyes. The man from the club. His cunning smirk warmed her insides as piercing eyes of blue ice, near white, seemed to bore right into her mind, creating a permanent home amongst her jumbled thoughts. It was comforting in a way she’d never felt possible. “Who… who are you?” She spoke breathlessly, but he shushed her gently, laying a soft finger on her lips.
“I’m here now. That’s all that matters.” His enthralling voice and the warmth of his breath caressed the skin of her cheek as he whispered in her ear and drew her closer. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”
All Reah’s doubts and fears suddenly swept clean away till it was almost as if she couldn’t ever remember anything bad ever happening. She was scooped up in his strong arms, captured in the comfort of his embrace as their mouths eagerly hungered for the other, delving again and again, rarely pausing for air.
Trains whipped past at various times during their heated passion amidst the railway tracks, spurring clothes further and further from their grasp as they were caught up in one another.
Reah couldn’t ever remember feeling so exhilarated or safe before in her life. Nothing else mattered right now. Nothing at all.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Sunday, July 15th, 2007 - 23:14
1318 Poplar Avenue - Kossinton Apartment
Only shadows played in the still of the night as the rest of the world slumbered, disturbed only by the soft, rickety tapping of a leaf that had been caught in the window while the brisk night air tried to free it from its clutches. A soft creak in the floorboards was the only sound to disturb the indoors, but it was an old building, and old buildings were always known to groan.
A soft light from behind the door slowly spilled gracefully over Reah’s sleeping form, highlighting her soft, gentle curves laying bare, tangled within the dishevelled bed-sheets. She tossed briefly in some unseen struggle for a moment before she eventually calmed again, a sullen moan escaping her pouted lips. Mumbling something into the crushed pillow, she then buried her head deeper, hiding from the lonesome night. She only had faint, comforting memories of the previous night, but she longed for them again.
The mattress shifted beneath her as a foreign weight added itself, coaxing another moan from her and she unconsciously repositioned her head.
Reah’s creased forehead and jittery movements smoothed over, replaced by an utter calm brought on by the nameless company, their presence strangely soothing.
She smiled warmly, sinking into her welcoming pillow as a gentle hand caressed her cheek with as much care as if she were a porcelain doll, faintly skimming over her lips with their fingertips before leaving her once more.
Reah’s breath caught on the softly sweet, familiarly seductive scent as it faded from her now cold cheek. She frowned to herself at the sudden lack of warmth and stirred from her slumber, slowly sitting upright in her bed and clutching the scant white sheet against her naked body to peer into the darkness.
She was completely alone. Had she been dreaming?
A quick check of the security revealed nothing out of the ordinary. …but she would have sworn she hadn’t been alone!
Laying herself back down on the bed, she frowned inwardly. She didn’t think she was going crazy! At least she certainly hoped not. Her eyes skimmed thoughtfully over the pillow cover she rested on, detachedly studying its creases and the pulls in the fabric… then paused.
Her eyes fixed on a fibre of hair that lay not two inches from her face. One that she knew wasn’t hers, but… no…. That was impossible. He was dead to her now.
Closing her eyes, Reah convinced herself she was hallucinating and forced herself back into a restless sleep, filtered by strange dreams and memories that teased with her mind, memories that she knew weren’t quite her own as much as they seemed to be. And she was thirsty.