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
July 18th
6:50 pm
Alessa awoke to the sound of the pilot's voice blaring over the airplane's intercom. "Good evening, passengers. "We'll be landing in Los Angeles in approximately seven minutes. Please note that the safety belt sign is lit and also please be sure to push all bags and carry-on luggage underneath your seats as we prepare to land. I hope you enjoyed your flight. Please fly American Airlines again."
Alessa yawned as she tried to put some order to her hair. She looked out of the small window, but she hastily averted her eyes. She should remember to ask for a corridor seat next time she flew to LA.
“Don’t you like the view?” A gentle voice asked. Alessa smiled tightly to the old lady sitting next to her.
“Bad memories,” she answered. It was almost sunset and LA lay in all its grandeur underneath them, a sea of lighting bugs. To anybody else it’d be a charming sight. Alessa quickly closed the small curtain to hide the view. “I don’t like LA by sunset,” she added with a finality that invited no more questions.
The plane finally landed and the demoness leapt to her feet and immediately made a beeline for the exit. She didn't want to get caught in passenger gridlock. The bag she was carrying hit a few heads on the way as she walked up the aisle. "Sorry, perdón," she muttered, embarrassed about her clumsiness but almost giddy at the same time. The plane door finally opened and Alessa almost ran down the terminal and into the airport. Then she stopped short trying to control herself. She was eager to see Ellis and hear what he had to say, but she didn’t want to look too eager.
With a more reposed pace, Alessa crossed the gates to the arrivals lounge, and her eyes sorted the crowd in search of Ellis’ familiar figure. She saw him almost immediately, his height giving him away.
“Ellis!” she cried, almost drowning in his embrace.
“I missed you, sweet,” he said, not relenting his hold. Alessa laughed, and finally surrendered to his joyous mood.
“Vamos, I’m starving, I never eat plane’s food.”
“Sure,” he answered, as he took Alessa’s bag from her hands. “Let’s take care of your stomach and then we can talk.” He grew suddenly serious, “I have a lot to tell you.”
Alessa just nodded and followed him out of the airport.
******
“So you just started to sing?” Alessa asked, her eyes wide over her chicken sandwich.
Ellis rolled his eyes, “can you believe it? And not only me, there was this big chorus behind me. Ms. Jordan has a beautiful soprano voice.”
Alessa laughed at the idea of stern Ms. Jordan singing. Ellis’ English secretary was all pulchritude and efficiency, she didn’t think the woman ever unwind.
“And what did you sing about?”
“I don’t know, some silliness about the wonders of fax machines in international business.” He rolled his eyes again, “I had just closed a big deal and got the papers instantly.”
He smiled at her, “just as well it didn’t reach New York.”
“Seguro...” she answered, and blushed slightly, the image of herself impulsively jumping onto the stage and joining Inés’ chorus line at her nightclub suddenly clear in her mind. She had even got a job offer from the club’s owner!! Not to mention James’ signature smirk; the vampire could be in love with her cousin, but he hadn’t lost his charm. Well, at least now she understood the urge; fortunately she hadn’t started singing or the club would have emptied. She could dance, but no way she could sing.
Ellis sighed and brushed his hair back, this was the part he had been fearing, but he couldn’t keep it from her any longer.
“However, it wasn’t all wine and roses. All that singing and dancing… well, it had its consequences.” He paused for a second and then started to tell her about Ozimandius DeAngelo’s demise.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
July 18th, 11:20 pm
Longwood Estates
Alessa waited until Ellis’ car taillights got lost in the winding road to gently close the door at her back again. She sighed and looked vacantly at the front lawn. She really didn’t want to enter the big empty house, but she couldn’t make herself accept Ellis’ offer to stay at his hotel for the night. She felt guilty for refusing his comfort, but she needed some time alone. And she wasn’t ready to staying with him, not as yet, even if she knew he wouldn’t impose himself on her.
Leaving her traveling bag and jacket lying on the steps, Alessa slowly made her way towards the garden. It was a beautiful night, the soft breeze coming from the ocean only ruffling the trees and bushes around her. However, she took no comfort in the familiarity of her well groomed garden. Mostly it reminded her of Oz. She wiped her tears, it wasn’t fair that she was surviving yet another friend. She would really miss him; his calming presence, his unconditional support...
She sighed again, and fingered the streaked leaves of a giant fern. It seemed that every time her life started to head towards some measure of ‘normalcy’ something happened. Something unexpected and dreadful. Not for the first time she wondered if it was something in her, that tainted everything she came in touch with.
Oz stood at the top of the outdoor staircase that led to his apartment. He looked down at Alessa walking through the garden. He remembered this feeling of being an observer but not a participant in the world. Where before it had been a prison for his heart, now it was a relief.
He could fade into the background and not have to interact with the players. He could watch. But Alessa who had believed in him would be in mourning, no doubt. He glided down from the stairs to the garden, his wings no longer a ghostly flame but feathery white wings with golden tips. He landed near Alessa and started to reach out to her.
She felt the presence before it touched her, a strange scent, an unfamiliar feeling, like… babies? Without stopping to think how there could possibly be babies in her garden, she swiftly turned around and almost fell on her back.
An angel stood there, there was a soft radiance around his blinding wings and his dark hair seemed to glow as well. A halo? Was that a halo? And jeans? How come did a halo seem to go so well with jeans and a t-shirt?
Alessa’s eyes darted from the angel head to his bare feet. She felt her mouth spread in a big grin and she inhaled deeply into that sweet, pure scent she had confounded with babies. It was like breathing peace in. Then she looked into the angel’s face and her grin spread even more. “Oz?” she asked, tentatively.
Oz was somewhat startled; he had only barely started to exert himself to be seen. For crowds and strangers it often took quite a lot of concentration, but Alessa seemed to be able to not only see, but to recognize him.
He held out a hand to steady her, "Yes, Alessa, It's me."
Alessa looked at the offered hand and then up to Oz’s face again. She blinked. He didn’t disappear. He was still there, his hand still stretched to help her. She was hesitant for a second, and then finally took it. The hand was real enough. She found her voice again. “But, how?” she asked.
"I wish I knew, really. Somehow my mortal death allowed me to resume my former duties. But I don't know why or how just yet."
*And Azrael isn't returning my calls, * he thought sourly.
"For now," he continued, "It means you'll have to hire another handyman. I think I've retired." He smiled and the radiance of his face was a visible light. Alessa laughed at this, and when she covered her mouth she noticed she was crying.
“You silly man… angel” She cried, and impulsively hugged him. For all his wings and halo and bare feet he was solid enough. She cried even harder, laughter and tears mingling together. “What are you, like a phoenix?”
Oz hugged her back, he was genuinely happy to see her. He lifted her off the lawn and hovered there a moment with is wings kicking up a gentle swirl of wind. "No, not quite, although it does feel like I have risen from my own ashes. The last thing I remember was the pain of the fire. But strangely enough it is a faint memory, like a childhood dream."
Setting her gently back on the grass he held both her hand in his, "I have a favor to ask though, Alessa. Don't tell anyone about this just yet. I need a while to get back into the job and I know everyone will want me to see them. Plus I am hoping that the police attention will die down soon. Then I can start to tell everyone what has happened. Can you do that for me?"
She frowned a little. “Nobody?” Alessa asked. He shook his head, and she nodded. “Sure, I can do that.”
The demoness wiped her eyes, joyful tears this time, thinking about his words. “What are you going to do now? Go back to your old life?” She doubted a second before asking, hope in her voice: “will you be around?”
"I am a prayer away" he said to her, "I have duties as an angel that will keep me busy but they won't keep me occupied all the time. If I can keep the use of the room, I can pay you, or even share it with someone. Believe me, they will literally be unaware I am there. Being an angel is to be perpetually forgotten or overlooked. Only those that are close to me, blessed or - like you - of supernatural blood will ever be able to retain the memory of my visits."
She smiled a little apologetically, “I was never good at praying, so you just keep the apartment.” Then she rushed on, “and don’t worry about paying or anything. There’s enough room in the property to house a horde of gardeners. I don’t need to use my friend’s house."
Oz walked hand in hand with Alessa towards the poolside to sit down at a table. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Alessa, it takes some effort to maintain concentration to be seen, so you'll forgive me if I don't hang around for long. Angels are unseen helpers so the act of being seen takes some effort; less for those with 'the sight', of course, but still an effort."
“I see,” she said, but was groaning inside. She had just got her friend back and he was already leaving, then she saw the obvious signs of strain in his face and felt ashamed.
“I understand.” Alessa's voice was more secure this time. She took his hands in a firm grip and smiled. “Go do what you angels do for a living; just remember you have a place here - and a friend.”
Oz placed a gentle kiss on Alessa's forehead. "You can call to the angels wherever you are and they will carry your message to me. I can't promise I'll be able to get there quickly but I'll try as hard as I can."
Oz stood and took a deep breath and relaxed his light. Alessa could still see him clearly but it was getting harder and harder like trying to see a dark-colored object at night. Even in the well-lit back yard he was a blur. She imagined that the strain she felt was similar to the effort he had to expend to be seen by her. "See you soon, Oz." she whispered, and then, out of nowhere she added, "Dios te bendiga."
Alessa watched Oz slowly disappear until there was only a whirl of breeze where he had been standing. She inhaled deeply again but his scent was fading as well. She felt suddenly alone and she braced herself. Then she laughed for the silliness of it, all her earlier sorrow forgotten. She hadn’t lost her friend! Oz was fine, he seemed happy, he was his former self again! And he said he’d be close by. Alessa looked up at the night’s sky, searching for any sign of him and she laughed when she spotted a falling star.
“I do believe in fairies, I do. I do.”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Sunday, 22nd July 2007 – 2:12 am
It had been tremendous fun, Tash decided, to roam the streets of Los Angeles and experience all the sights, sounds and smells of the city with her new, sharper senses. With Drew’s hot blood coursing through her she had felt more energised than ever before and she found herself regretting the opportunity she’d lost when Valerian had tried to turn her. Imagine the power she would have had then, with such a powerful vampire as her mentor. How stupid Jade was to have denied him for so long. Tash could only hope that by now Jade had fully embraced her father’s gift and had learned to experience this heady thrill.
But still, there was only so long that she could explore her new abilities in solitude. Dropping the feather she held in her hand, having examined its complexity in minute detail, Tash turned and began heading towards the nightclub district. She craved company now. To feed off her victim’s emotions even as she fed on their blood – that was the rush she wanted. And she knew where to get it.
Soon she was easing her body sinuously through the crowd of near-naked people at a nearby rave. Loud techno music made the air pulse and her ribcage quivered as though a heart still beat within it. Her nostrils picked up the unmistakeable hint of drugs and sex as men and women alike ground themselves against each other. The feelings in the room assailed her mind: why had that foolish, mortal Tash never opened herself up to this? What a stupid weakling she’d been while alive, to close off her mind in crowds such as this. The excitement in the room was nearly overwhelming – almost a meal in itself, and a sweet taste of the feast to come.
Amongst the writhing bodies Tash fixated on a particular threesome. A muscular young man with dark hair had his arms wrapped around another man, his groin performing a circular grinding motion against the arse of the man he held. The second man was facing a girl, their blonde heads – his natural, hers bottle – buried in each other’s shoulders as they all but fucked right there on the dance floor. Drawn to the sheer charge of sexuality Tash moved closer to the threesome, licking her lips unconsciously.
Moving in time to the beat that pounded through the room, Tash rubbed herself up against the rearmost of the threesome – the first man she’d spotted. Up close, she could see his hands alternating between rubbing the nipples on the bare chest of the man in the middle and slipping beneath the tank top the girl wore. Roused to a fever pitch by now, Tash could hardly bear to wait and even as she slipped her hand between the furiously grinding – and rock hard – groin of the dark-haired man and the blonde man’s firm buttocks, she felt her teeth lengthen.
The smell of blood now drowned out all other sensations, and she bent her head to the dark-haired man’s neck, biting deeply. She wrapped one leg around his and pressed herself hard against him as she began to drink. The man faltered in his rhythmic motion, and Tash felt his hands dropping away from the pair he’d been caressing.
Everyone, so consumed by the hypnotic combination of music and drugs, failed to notice that anything out of the ordinary was going on in the midst of their twelve-hour Utopia, all save for the blond middle man. “Niko,” the man purred, barely removing his lips from the girl’s, “Baby, what’s the matter?”
Annoyed by the momentary break in her fun, the nameless girl drew back from her night’s make-out partner to see what the hold up was. Her glazed over brown eyes widened in horror as she saw that the new addition to their mini party was actually biting into Niko’s neck drawing thick lines of blood from the man’s jugular. Following her distressed gaze, the second man spun around to see first-hand that a vampire was buried fang deep into his boy-toy.
“Now, now deary,” he tisked, as his hand shot out lightning quick, wrapping tightly around the offender’s neck. “As delectable as Niko is, he is mine for the night.” Exerting superhuman strength, the man started to pry the vampiress from the man’s throat. “So please, no sloppy seconds.”
Lifting her face from Niko’s blood-smeared throat, Tash let a half-smile grace her demonic features. “Well, well,” she breathed, “Small world, isn’t it?”
She placed her hand on top of the hand that gripped her shoulder and cocked her head sideways at Niko, whose eyes had begun to glaze over. “You can stop the strong-arm act now, Loki. I’ve had my fill anyway.”
“HOLY ANNE-RICE YOU’RE A VAMPIRE!” the half fae squealed in surprise as he removed his hand from Tash’s neck. The momentary look of shock faded as a pearly-toothed grin crossed his angelic face. “Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is what we like to call an unforeseen plot-twist.”
“Y-y-y-you know this thing? The fake blonde stuttered in horror as she began to back away from Loki.
“Thing? Sweetie, were you raised in a barn? You don’t call people things. My god, we’re in the 21st century,” he said, turning to address Tash, “and people are still using such derogatory names.”
The woman froze, not knowing what to do, caught between a mixture of confusion and terror.
“Vamoose honey, I’m trading up,” Loki cut in, shoving her off like some pathetic stray dog. “Now where were we? Ahhhh yes, you being a vamp, and you know what that means? HIGH FIVE for immortality!”
The bottle-blonde hadn’t moved far, still staring in shock at Tash’s disfigured face. Tash snarled at the terrified girl, who finally decided that discretion was the better part of valour and scuttled away through the crowd. Letting her face return to its normal shape, Tash wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth and sucked her finger slowly, savouring the last taste of coppery sweetness.
“Loki, Loki, Loki,” she purred, moving in close to the fae and inhaling the musky scent that rose from him. His own spice was mixed with that of Niko and the girl. “You’re right – this is so much better than before. God, Tash was such a fucking stuck-up bitch sometimes. But you could say I had a change of faith recently.”
She reached over to where Niko was beginning to stumble around groggily, and pushed her recent meal towards a corner where he collapsed in a stupefied heap. “He’ll be okay. But that girl might start making a fuss. I’d hate to leave here when I just arrived, but…” She shrugged at Loki. “Wanna go someplace else?”
“Well now that you made a snack out of the cutest guy here, other than me of course,” he added in, as if it were a given, “I really don’t see a reason to stay.”
Wrapping his hand around Tash’s, Loki began to pull her through the crowd. “But first I got to tinkle before we go.” Disregarding the ‘Men’ sign on the door of the bathroom, the half-fae dragged the vampiress in along with him. “So Tashy-poo, please, I want EVERY detail. You know; the who, what, when, where, and how,” Loki chirped, as he unzipped and moved to the urinal. “This is seriously like the most exciting thing I’ve been witness to since last season’s finale on the OC! Ok now, spit it out.”
As Loki shook the last few drops off and re-zipped, he noticed that Tash wasn’t even listening. Instead she was staring fixedly at the mirror that covered most of the wall, one hand waving about in front of her face as though she were testing someone for blindness.
“Wow, just as well I won’t have to worry about getting zits anymore – I couldn’t do anything about them now anyway.” She moved over and stood behind Loki, mussing his hair and giggling at the results in the mirror. It looked like the invisible man was playing with the fae. Loki twisted away from her, a look of horror on his face.
“Hey! Not the hair!”
Tash shrugged. The combined buzz of her new situation and the E Niko had been on was working on her in unusual ways. She threw back her head and laughed for the sheer joy of it all. Shoving Loki lightly on the shoulder as he feverishly repaired the damage she’d done to his coif, Tash pirouetted towards the door.
“Never mind how it happened. It did, and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Tash grinned at Loki mischievously. “So come on, let’s go out and paint the town – oh, I dunno, red seems like a good colour.”
“I hear red is very ‘in’ this year,” the fae said, returning Tash’s smirk with an equally impish smile. Grabbing her by the hand once more, the gruesome two-some made their way from the beat blasting rave and out into the open air of the LA night life. Pulling the t-shirt out of the back of his jeans where he had tucked it in, Loki covered up before turning to Tash with wildness in his eyes – he had come up with a plan, and what a plan it was.
“Soooooooo, riddle me this, Natasha. Does your band of merry men know about your present condition?”
Tash narrowed her eyes and glanced at Loki slyly. “Only one so far – though by now she’s probably waking up half of LA to tell them. Oh, you should have seen the look on her face when she came in. There I was, crouched over her husband’s bloody corpse. It was so sweet. I tell you, her anguish was even better than the blood. Better than sex.”
“Ok, too much detail there, Tashy-kins,” Loki said, pretending to be put off by her graphic comment. Switching back to his light-hearted tone of voice, the fae began to skip around the vampiress like a little puppy.
“Tell me what you think of this idea. We go to D-man’s apartment, wake him up. Then you go all grrr-arrg and like pretend to bite me. He’ll flip out, probably cry, we’ll point, we’ll laugh, we’ll make a whole night of it! Whaddaya think?”
Tash eyed Loki speculatively as he continued to cavort around her. “You know, I’m beginning to wonder if you don’t have the hots for Darian. You’re obsessed with him. And fun as that might be, there’s one teeny-weeny little problem. I’m now one of the undead – if I go to Poplar like this, we’ll be dancing the awoogah waltz in no time. There’s alarms and shit all over that place.”
She put out a foot, but the nimble fae skipped over the obstacle without missing a beat. “It’s still hours to dawn. Hey, you know what? There’s one place I can get into. Oz is dead.” Loki paused in mid-stride, his arms up-flung into the air as he gawked at Tash in surprise. “Yep,” she nodded. “It was in all the papers. Burned to a crisp apparently, a few days ago when all that musical crap was going on. He killed some cop, they say.”
She shrugged. “Poor little living Tash was too busy crying over Onyx to think about it much, but you know what it means? I can just wander into his place. Don’t need an invitation. Can you imagine the look on Alessa’s face when she sees the mess we make in there?”
Tash was too busy chortling to see the frown on Loki’s face. “Who’s Alessa?”
She leaned in close to Loki. “A good friend of Darian’s. If you want to upset him, this might be as much fun as the direct way.”
“That’s hot. If we can’t get the real deal, I’ll settle for the consolation prize. And FYI I’m so not obsessed with him. God, he’s such a boring, lame-o, do-gooder stick in the mud...”
Loki went on as they began marching towards their new destination, “I wonder: if you vamped him, think he would be more fun then? Can you even vamp a faery? What do you think that would happen? Then he’d be a half-faery half-vamp. Do you think he’d have to drink blood?”
“Not obsessed, huh?” Tash linked her arm with Loki’s. “Come on then. It’s a bit of a drive to get to Alessa’s place. We need us some transport.”
Several minutes later the pair sped off in a shiny, red Dodge Viper. The previous occupant no longer needed it. Having been hypnotised by Loki into believing he was a dog, the rich young man was now crawling around on all fours sniffing at trees.
“Whoo, I love this car!” Tash shouted exuberantly as they raced along the freeway, “But geeze, I wish we could have gone back to get the Monte Carlo. That thing almost feels alive.”
Seeing a clear patch of road ahead, Tash grinned. “Hang on,” she suggested as she opened up the throttle.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Sunday, 22nd July 2007 – 3:55am
The speeding red sports car pulled up in the driveway of what could only be described as a mansion. Tash exited the Viper, quickly moving to a smaller building, probably a guest house, but Loki lingered back, obviously in awe of the large estate.
“Wowser. Hey Tash-baby, I’ve got a better idea. Instead of messing with this Alessa, how about I make her fall in love with me so I can spend the rest of my days living in luxury?” The icy glare his companion shot him made it clear she didn’t think the new plan was quite as fun. “What? A boy can dream, can’t he?” Loki responded cheekily as he caught up to the vampire.
“Shh, it’s this way.” Tash started up the stairs to Oz’s apartment, keeping half an eye out for lights coming on in the main house. It remained shrouded in darkness and Tash let a half-smile steal over her lips as she reached the door. “This’ll be fun,” she murmured to Loki as she grasped the door knob and exerted her newly acquired strength to break the lock.
The door swung inwards and Tash stepped inside, Loki hard on her heels. In the dim light coming through the windows Tash could see the interior was simply one large room. In one corner Oz kept a chair and TV, and in another corner was a roughly-made bed. A kitchenette filled one corner of the flat and the only other door off the room Tash presumed had to lead to the bathroom.
“Hmph. Not much here, is there? Still, who knows what we might find – I’ll start with the bookcase. You wanna check his dresser?”
Without waiting for an answer from Loki, Tash crossed the room to the bookcase and started flipping books off their shelves. “Boring, boring, boring… Ooh, I didn’t know you were into Barbara Cartland, Oz. Boring, boring…”
As Tash ravaged through the bookcase, the faery pranced around the room, inspecting anything and everything that was of interest before tossing it haphazardly on the ground. “Looksie what I found,” he chuckled, pirouetting around gracefully, his hands filled with X-rated films that he had found stored discreetly at the back of a closet. “Orgasma goes to London, Lesbian Slumber Party, Lesbian Slumber Party II. Gee, if I’d have known Oz had such blue balls I would have stopped by sooner to help him out,” he said, lewdly shooting a wink Tash’s way.
Throwing the DVDs away, Loki hopped up onto the back of the couch, balancing amazingly on its thin edge. “I’m getting booooooored. Tash… Tash, this is boring,” he whined, trying to get Tash’s attention.
Flipping the mattress off its springs and onto the floor, Tash had to agree with him. She’d hoped to find something like Oz’s sword in here, but so far it didn’t seem to be anywhere a sword could fit.
“Oh, I have an idea.” Tash kicked aside a pillow and went to the fridge. For a moment she was distracted, “Hmm, beer,” but then she found what she was looking for. Shaking up the bottle of ketchup she popped the top, aimed it at the wall and squirted. Several moments of intense concentration followed, then she stepped back to survey her handiwork.
“There, what do you think?” she asked, gesturing at the wall. It now bore, in dripping red sauce, the words HELP ME – TRAPPED. “Hehe. Alessa will see that and think Oz is caught in some hell dimension. Now, that’s funny.”
Oz shh’d the sack of mewling kittens that he had lifted from the aqueduct. He'd been taking an answer to a little girl who was worried about her sick brother when he'd seen them. He'd flashed back to his brief dip in those cold and filthy waters and had to act. He would have to see about finding homes for them later, but rescuing came first. He set them down gently at the top of the stairway and heard the sounds within. The door was slightly ajar and now he could clearly hear voices.
*Burglers,* was his first thought, and he smiled because he knew that most criminals would reform with only a partial scare. He gathered his faith and burst through the door blazing with heavenly glory. “Stop, evil doers, in the name of the Lord!” he commanded.
“Ahhh!” Loki screamed as he toppled from the couch, falling flat on his ass. “Uh oh, Spaghettios.”
“Fucking hell!” Tash dropped the ketchup bottle and covered her face from the blinding glare coming through the doorway, cringing from the skin-crawling feeling that came over her. She backed up, trying to get away from the, the – holiness that emanated from this being. She could think of no other word that fit.
“Who the- what the hell are you?”
Oz's concentration faltered and the light flickered then died. “Tash?” he said quietly, “"Loki? Is that you?” The silence was underscored by the mewing of kittens in the bag at Oz’s feet.
“Oz? Uh, I thought you were- aren’t you meant to be dead?” Tash gaped open-mouthed for a moment, trying to gather her scattered wits. “Uh, yeah. Loki ran amok, see, and came here and well, as you can see he was trashing your joint. I’d just come in and was trying to stop him.”
Tash rushed over to Loki, hauling him to his feet. With her head up close to his ear she quietly whispered, “Play along.” Shoving him onto Oz’s couch she snarled, “Stay put, you troublemaker.” Then she turned once more to Oz, hoping desperately that he’d at least be confused long enough by her ploy to let her get close enough to do something about this unfortunate interruption.
“I can’t believe you’re still alive. Oh my God, Oz, I thought we’d lost you.” She moved towards him, a look of concern and relief plastered over her face.
Oz watched with bewildered fascination as Loki’s smug expression turned to pantomime horror. Tash came forward looking for all the world like some long-lost relative who’d just heard you won the lottery. Oz wasn’t sure how to react so he sputtered, “T-Tash. Um... this is unexpected. I-”
He saw his Lesbian Slumber Party II DVD on the floor and the books strewn around. Something was suspicious and Oz distractedly said, “What is going on here, Tash?”
“Tash was right. I was making a mess and being naughty,” the fae purred seductively, as he stretched out onto the couch. “I think I need to be punished, perhaps a good spanking?” Loki twisted, sticking out his butt and wiggling it slightly, half hoping the angel would actually follow through on the invitation. Disappointment crawled its way onto Loki’s face as Oz remained motionless. “What, don’t look so scandalized, you’re the one with Lesbian Slumber Party in your closet.”
Oz was only half listening to the fae. His attention had been drawn to the huge writing on the wall of the apartment in dripping ketchup. HELP ME - TRAPPED it shouted in scary letters followed by a dribble that went across the room to Loki, then to Tash’s feet where his ketchup leaked out its life blood.
Oz turned angrily to the pair of them. “What in the name of God in Heaven is going on!” he shouted. Tash visibly winced at his invocation of the name of the divine.
“Dammit, Oz, I told you already.” Tash reached out and grabbed Loki by the scruff, hauling him semi-protesting to his feet before Oz. “This sack of shit broke in here. I’d been following him and had just come in to stop him.”
“Not a chance, Tashy-kins, I’d have whipped your ass.”
“Yeah, you reckon? You’d like to try that now?”
“Yeah, right now.”
“Ok.”
Tash let go of Loki, who started his move towards Oz. Tash began her advance as well, knowing that the two of them could easily take down Oz, no matter his new ability to glow in the dark. Then she faltered at what she saw over Oz’s shoulder. “Alessa!”
Alessa got to the top of the stairs and looked inside the small apartment. Her face was marred into a dark frown. She had been dreaming of her father. She seldom dreamt of her father, and she didn’t like to be interrupted. At first she had thought the noises were just another of Oz’s strays; the alarm hadn’t gone off after all. But then the shouts had started and she couldn’t ignore them any longer.
She quickly assessed the situation: Oz’s apartment looked as if a typhoon had gone through. Books and DVDs were scattered around and bedding was strewn everywhere. It also reeked of ketchup and… vampires? She looked from Oz to Tash to the unfamiliar blonde standing in front of Oz, trying to locate the smell. The nerve of the thing, he was smiling at her!
“Who the hell are you?” she growled.
Loki’s attention turned instantly to the dark haired beauty, his face easing into an innocent, boyish smile. “I’m from the future. I came back to tell you that fifty years from now, we’re still in love.”
Alessa just wrinkled her nose. “I don’t date vampires, thank you. One is more than enough.” Then she turned to Tash and Oz, dismissing him out of hand. “Need any help with the brat?”
Oz started to draw his sword. Something was amiss. Even Alessa seemed to be confused. “Vampires? Where? Loki, there, is one of the fae.”
“Yeah, she’s the vampire,” Loki said, almost offended, as he pointed at Tash. There was a brief moment of awkwardness before the fae brought his hands up to his mouth. “Oops, probably shouldn’t have said that.”
“Yeah, right. I’m a big, old, mean vampire. Sure thing, Loki,” Tash sneered derisively, rolling her eyes. She stepped as casually as she could around Oz to get a clearer angle at the door – this situation was degenerating quickly and they might have to make a quick getaway. The odds were no longer in their favour.
“I was in the process of stopping him when Oz showed up – and Alessa, how long have you known Oz was okay? I thought he was dead.” Tash hoped the change of subject would help take the focus off her.
Alessa looked at Oz uneasily, and then lowered her eyes for a second. “A couple of days. I’m sorry.” She sighed and raised her eyes again. “He was waiting for the right time to tell you a-”
The demoness stopped talking, and frowned again. The smell of vampires attacked her with a vengeance. She looked at Loki again, catching the mirth in his eyes. Then she studied Tash. Her friend was slowly moving away, her eyes darting from Oz to the door. “You gotta be kidding,” she managed to say.
“God,” Loki snickered, following Alessa’s gaze. “You could almost hear the gears turning in your head trying to work that out – and after I explicitly said it.”
Suddenly everything clicked into place in Oz’s mind. His anger swelled and he choked down his rage as he turned to look at the two intruders. “I did die, you two, but I did come back. I’ve changed and it figures that nothing stays the same. So Loki, this better not be some sort of joke. Tash, is there something you want to tell us?”
Tash fixed Oz with an unwavering gaze. “Since when did Loki’s stories start becoming gospel truth? He’s just pissed off with me ’cause I spoiled his fun. You know how he likes to cause trouble.” She narrowed her eyes at the fae. “I think I need to drag his sorry arse out of here and give him a beating.”
She gripped Loki’s wrist and propelled him before her towards the door. “Let’s get you outside where I can deal with you properly,” she said as she brushed past Oz to get to the door and freedom. A sudden, burning sensation seared her side and she squealed, the pain causing her to vamp out even as she recoiled from Oz’s holy touch.
“Fuck!”
“Now that is a Kodak moment, ladies and gents,” the fae grinned.
Oz felt the heat from Tash’s hip and shoulder even as she was jerking back. He stumbled back, startled into inaction. He knew that it wasn’t Tash but he couldn’t shift that into action against her. So he blamed Loki. Oz sidestepped Tash and body slammed Loki with a muscular shoulder that sent him bouncing off the wall. Loki practically licked his lips as he recovered in an artful bound that placed him within kicking range of Oz.
And kick he did. With deceptive speed and strength, the faery bounced upwards, knocking Oz squarely in the chest with a massive dropkick before falling into a handspring over Alessa which brought him next to Tash and the door.
“Loving this, loving you two,” he gestured flamboyantly with his hands. “But I’m afraid tonight’s festivities have unfortunately come to an end. Say good night Tashy-poo ’cause we’re jettin’,” he finished, grabbing Tash and giving the other two a final wink.
Alessa didn’t pay attention to him; she had completely dismissed everything else, anyway, as soon as she saw the fiend’s mask over her friend’s face. She simply looked at Tash, frozen in shock.
Tash grinned at her two stunned friends – ex-friends. “Goodnight, Tashy-poo,” she said with a cheeky grin, and leapt from the top of the stairs to land lightly at the bottom. She and Loki raced towards the waiting sports car, and as the tyres threw gravel into the air she turned to him with a snarl.
“So what possessed you to say that back there? I could have talked us out of that, but no, you have to open your big fat mouth.” Suddenly she laughed. “Oh, but did you see the looks on their faces? That was priceless!”
“Oh my god we’re BFFs now,” he said playfully as he unbuckled the seat belt and turned to look at her.
“BFFs?”
“Best friends forever, silly!” Loki went in to kiss her cheek, but instead stuck his tongue into her ear, sloshing it around grossly.
“Eww.”
“Oh shut up, you loved it!” On that note, the fae leaped from the convertible and disappeared into the night.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Saturday, July 21
00:04 – Berlin
The telephone rang endlessly among the panic at Precinct 8765. The sound was lost among officers shouting louder than one another in an attempt to get their voices heard first. For Andre Belzer, fresh out of the academy, this was surreal. Words easily passed throughout the towering building. Facts. Different story, especially when you’re as elevated as Belzer.
“HOW MANY DOWN?”
“LISTEN, DAMMIT…”
“WE HAVE A CODE 9, I REPEAT…”
“WHERE DID HE GO?”
drrring…
drrring…
“Hello? Ummm, the phone is ringing.”
drring…
Eventually Belzer’s smarts got the better of him. He picked up the phone realizing something might need attention and he’d be the one to provide it. And to receive the recognition of a job efficiently well-done.
“Hello?”
“Hello. Who am I speaking to?” replied a hoarse voice.
“Andre Belzer. Precinct 8765, Berlin Polizei.”
“This is David Keane. MI-6…”
** Shit! ** The rookie cop was easily impressed.
“…I need to speak to your Commissioner. I have reason to believe a wanted criminal has just entered your precinct.”
** Wow ** Belzer thought to himself. Words swirled in his head, thinking of what to say. He sensed an urgency in the caller’s voice. “The Commissioner is occupied at the moment. How may I be of service?”
Keane already started to think for the worse. ** How many did he get already? ** “I need to speak to him. This individual is extremely dangerous.”
“Sir, there is a situation of THE utmost importance here…”
Keane cut him off. “Advise your superiors to lock down the building and to contain a male, approximately 5’ 8”, light brown hair, no visible scars. He might speak with an Irish accent.”
Belzer decided to take this down. He’d be the one to capture him he decided. Keane thought this kid was already in over his head. If there was a situation of utmost importance, the best men wouldn’t be on the phone. “Use any means necessary to contain him, but do not kill the individual.”
“Ok, will do.”
“I’m having some agents fly in as we speak. Hold in there.”
“Yup.” Belzer hung up, sprang out of his chair and ran down the emergency stairs. The elevators were shut down unless one possessed a key.
00:49 – Zoo Station, Berlin
Six minutes remained until the train bound for Brussels departed. The train attendant amusingly greeted the passengers who arrived at the last minute. Midnight passengers never ceased to amaze the Attendant. Hordes of them had places to go at this time. He could think of other ways of spending his time at midnight. He looked at each ticket before allowing them to board, smiling them a “have a pleasant trip” in the process.
** Mm, mm, mm. Damn that is mighty fine. Would you like a tour of the train with that? ** Share his thoughts he never did, but a little flirt here and there didn’t hurt anyone. ** Hey grandma, isn’t it past your bedtime? ** He looked quizzically at the elderly woman, wondering where she could possibly be going at this time of the night.
** Here’s Mr. Sunshine! ** The next passenger didn’t smile. Lucky for him that he didn’t seem threatening enough to warrant the third degree of his destination. The Attendant quickly looked at the ticket for he didn’t want to keep his gaze off the exquisite “Exotic” behind the boarding passenger, “Have a pleasant trip…” The Attendant noticed the name on the ticket. ** Holy shit! Ballack. Oliver Ballack. ** He paused for a moment, thinking of what he should do next. He studied the face, searching for a resemblance.
“Is there…” Oliver was about to ask before he was cut off the Attendant.
“Excuse me, but are you in any way related to Michael Ballack?”
Ollie laughed and heaved an inward sigh of relief. “Hehehe, no no. No relation. I already tried to get tickets using that card.”
“Alright, have a pleasant trip Oliver.”
“Thank you, sir. Have a good night. Wir Bayern Munich gehen!”
The Attendant didn’t even look at the woman after him. He was thinking about Michael Ballack and Bayern Munich’s chase for the Bundesliga title.
The doors slid shut and the passengers got a buzz from the initial vibrations of the started engine. Oliver found his compartment and laid his jacket down before taking a seat.
** That was close. ** He was thankful for that, but he knew that eventually somebody will check the train stations for signs of him. Now, he was imprinted in this attendant’s head. Oliver admitted to himself that he had become careless in recent time.
10:27 – Berlin Precinct
The mess at the precinct’s entrance was already cleaned up, but not without any garbage. Pieces remained and interlocking them into one big puzzle wasn’t an easy task. The gunmen. The injured cop. The failed security scan. The missing cop. The shooting spree in the restaurant. Security’s failure to manually override the shut doors.
The Commissioner kept asking himself how these all fit together. More pressing, but a major nuisance, was a statement to the media. The district was only two years removed from the Tick-Tock bombings and still fresh in the media’s minds. They were expected to demand how the police could let something happen to this city again. And on their front steps no less, in light of greater security measures.
He took in a deep breath, sighed, and clicked the speak button on the intercom. “Anna, what have you written so far?”
“It is almost finished Commissioner,” replied the young publicist. The polizei didn’t have a publicist either before 2005. The summer that changed everything.
“Sir, I have a David Keane downstairs for you. Says he is from MI:6,” his assistant said, half-hidden from the ajar door.
“MI:6? What is he doing here?” The Commissioner got up from his chair, eyes wide open with a genuine look of shock from his face. ** What now? **
“He? They. This Keane individual and six men. Six very good-looking bastions of muscle I might add,” she smiled and returned to her desk.
“At least someone can find some humor in this,” he replied as he began to make his way to the lobby.
“I don’t think he’s here. Otherwise, there’d be more chalk-lines.” As Keane pointed to two agents ordering them to sweep the outside perimeter for any clues, the Commissioner came out of the elevator.
“Mr. Keane?”
“Yes. You are the Commissioner I presume?”
“Yes. I don’t mean to be rude, but I must release a statement to the media very shortly and I’d like to know what this is all about.” He notice the two who went outside.
“At 11:59, Berlin time, we were alerted that Kieran Harte appeared here. Our computers picked up his fingerprints. This man is wanted by my agency. I contacted your precinct not five minutes after upon which I learned you were dealing with a matter of your own.”
“Yes. We had a shooting right here as you can see, in addition to a shooting in a bar frequented by our police officers. But I do not see how this man you’re looking for came up on your computers. How can you…” The Commissioner stopped suddenly, remembering the problem with the security doors. The print scan.
“Need I remind you that this man is responsible for the deaths of many people.” Keane became irritated, the answers he was looking for weren’t coming that fast. This was only made worse by the stampede of news people that just swarmed the lobby.
“Commissioner Koff…”
“Is there any connection…”
“What about the officer who fled the scene…”
“Please. Please. There will be statement at 1:00 this afternoon followed by a brief Q & A.”
Keane looked back at the Commissioner. “Missing officer?”
Koff motioned for Keane to follow him while the agents stayed put. Koff led him to a corner and began speaking lower. “If what you claim about the signal is true, at the same time last night two of our detectives, one of them injured, were in that lobby. Two gunmen followed them. One thing that keeps playing over in my head is that they couldn’t pass the doors.” Keane looked at him quizzically. “Security feature we had to implement. Only those hand prints from our database can pass through.”
“Fine. But that is restrictive, no? What if a citizen had an emergency?”
Koff pointed to a booth ten yards from the scan. “They register themselves there.” Keane nodded. “The able detective kept scanning negatively. This is what keeps puzzling me.”
“Detective? Are you sure?”
“Yes. Oliver Ballack.” ** Damn. ** Keane couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Is it possible that your system simply suffered a glitch at the wrong time?”
“It is a possibility we are examining. As you can see, we have quite a bit of our man power on this.”
“Has the system been known to fail?”
“No.”
“Something is not right here.” He thought for a moment. ** What if? ** “Can I have access to your security cameras.”
Koff called an officer to them. “Jorgen, let this man into the video room. If you have any questions, Jorgen will be of assistance or have him patch you through to me. I still don’t understand your concern and the reason for so many men. If the man you are looking for was here last night and is as dangerous as you say he is, he is certainly not one of the gunmen. They are all German.”
“Let me see the bodies.” Koff nodded to Jorgen and began to walk away. “Hold on!” Keane reached into his jacket pocket and took out a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, he showed it Koff. “Are any of the victims this man?” Keane saw the look of disbelief on Koff’s face. “What? You’ve seen him?”
Koff remained speechless. “Commissioner,” Keane raised his voice.
“That is Oliver Ballack.”
“Who?”
“Oliver. The detective who disappeared after shooting down the two gunmen.”
Keane ran back to the agents. The news people smelled blood. They noticed Keane running and then barking orders to his agents.
“Listen up. Kieran Harte is impersonating a Berlin detective under the name of Oliver Ballack. Ballack has been reported missing. We are to assume Harte is Ballack and that his cover is blown. Jack, Tony, check the train stations. Alex, Gary, the bus stations. Bruce, Richard, the airport. Transmit this picture to any official you come into contact with.”
Past Lives Pt.3 - Natural Justice
AUTHOR’S WARNING – This post contains scenes of sexual assault and violence. While every attempt has been made to approach the subject matter in a sensitive manner, it may contain references that some readers may find disturbing. (For people who still want to read without the more graphic imagery, hidden text has been used on a small section of this scene)
PAST LIVES - PART 3
NATURAL JUSTICE
Wilderness Embankment just off the Glendale Freeway
Thursday, 19th July 2007
11:12pm
A blast of cool night air entered the car’s stuffy interior as Tony pulled open the backdoor. Kate mumbled anxiously, her surroundings jolted and spun out of focus so rapidly that could hardly even keep her eyes open. Through a veil of sensation she perceived Tony’s actions as he slid one arm beneath her legs, the other around her shoulders and dragged her out into the open air.
Tony carried Kate in his arms over to a level piece of ground. She was all limp and heavy, barely conscious too despite her attempts to fight against it. Her eyelids trembled randomly and she had started to utter this pathetic whimpering noise, hardly above a whisper but it annoyed Tony nevertheless.
His boots slid against the loose dirt as he lowered Kate down onto the grass. His breathing was already heavy as he fell to his knees, removing his jacket and folding it over to form a cushion before sliding it beneath her head. Kate continued to mumble incoherently, moaning in subdued protest every time he touched her.
“Kate?” called Tony, slapping her lightly about the face. He knew the effects of the narcotic he’d given her induced a dissociative state, separating perception from sensation even leading to hallucinations. He wondered if maybe he’d given her too much, but then she was a witch and by all accounts a rather powerful one at that, he couldn’t afford to take any risks.
“Can you hear me?” he called again, pulling back her eyelids to reveal fully dilated pupils. He picked up her limp arm and checked her pulse; it was significantly slower but still strong.
Letting her wrist drop back to the ground Tony began to unfasten his belt, pulling his trousers down to his knees. Cool air caressed his genitals and he felt himself stiffen slightly in anticipation. Slowly he slid his hands down Kate’s legs; the skirt she wore was tight, clinging to her slight curves like a second skin. He traced the fabric down to her knees, gathering the hem in both hands and in one swift motion ripped the skirt straight up to her waist.
He smiled, feeling himself grow more aroused as he pushed the two halves of her skirt aside and hooked his fingers around her panties, yanking them down to her ankles. Taking hold of her legs, Tony roughly forced them apart before planting his heavy weight between them.
Kate trembled inside with cold panic and fear, a single warm tear rolling down her cheek. She felt Tony’s nakedness press firmly against her bare skin as he leaned over her and tore her blouse open. The delicate fabric yielded without protest to his strength and sent half a dozen emerald coloured buttons flying into the long grass. He roughly squeezed her soft breasts through her bra, his fingers leaving harsh red marks across her pale skin, his breathing growing heavier as he slipped his hands inside the cups.
Kate rolled her head to one side, forcing her eyes open. A light breeze bent the blades of grass, rippling back and forth like waves across a dark ocean. Her dilated pupils struggled to centre in the dim light; eventually focusing upon a tiny white flower that trembled in the breeze, its delicate head struggling to remain upright. Kate watched it devotedly, her eyes flinching but not closing even as Tony grabbed hold of her roughly around the back of the neck and rammed his body solidly against her own, forcing a sharp gasp of pain out of Kate’s mouth.
[hide=Read More?]Tony had said he wouldn’t hurt her, but he’d lied. A coarse aching rutted through her, radiating from between her legs, invasive and raw. The only difference was she felt too distant, too removed from functionality to attempt any protest. Her eyes rolled from side to side but it was like she was trapped behind a glass, able to see everything, to feel, but somehow… apart. A prisoner in her own body.
A sickly mass formed itself inside Kate, just below her breast, raw and acidic like bile. Tony’s now eager panting filled her ears, his hot, moist breath assaulting the exposed flesh of her neck. Kate slowly rolled her head back as a strange sort of numbness washed over her body; a warm feeling that wasn’t quite calm but almost peaceful nevertheless.
She stared straight up at the sky, her body sliding back and forth against the grass in time to Tony’s strenuous thrusts but she hardly felt a thing. It was like being in a trance, a sort of fixed, immovable state where the body responds mechanically in a low top gear. She could still sense her surroundings but it was different, it was as though she were watching it all from a distance somewhere in the sparse trees overhead. Tony bent over her motionless body, his trousers around his knees and his bare bottom sticking up in the air as he thrust violently between her legs like a dog in mating season. Kate knew that the woman lying beneath him was herself and yet it was like it was somebody else. She merely watched from her safe distance, a casual observer silently regarding the animalistic act that was being played out below - far removed from the guttural moans and squelching sounds of their sex organs being forcibly rammed together.[/hide]
The world spun around dizzily until Kate didn’t know how long she’d been laying in the tall cool grass, whether it was a few minutes or hours. Time, like everything else, had been pulled out of measure and could no longer be relied upon.
So it came as something of a surprise when she felt her eyelids flutter intermittently, her pupils contracting inwards to allow a thin slither of dull light to bleed into her consciousness. Slowly she managed to blink several times; the vast expanse of black night-time sky flooding her vision, scattered with a thousand tiny white stars. Kate blinked again, her eyes dipping low with the solid rhythm of a camera shutter.
It took so much effort to hold onto that feeling of awakening, to force it to increase. As the seconds moved into minutes Kate felt the stiffness of her limbs begin to lessen as though a heavy mass was being gradually lifted from her body. Her surroundings stopped blurring and swimming together and started to divide into separate colours and shapes.
Suddenly a brief flash of pain shot through Kate’s body, heavy and thick and searing her apart from the inside. It radiated from between her legs and shot up the length of her back where a pair of large hands and strong, broad fingers held her tightly. She felt herself being pushed back and forth, her thighs sliding against another body that weighted her down, causing so much pain she thought she might die.
Kate choked for air as her breathless cries lodged in the back of her throat, nausea washing swiftly through her violated body. Grunting and groaning filled her ears again, loud and impatient - both increasing with the pace of each thrust that tore her apart. She moaned and then she was sobbing, openly and without control. Raw panic and fear pushed its way up through her useless body to the only organ that could express her complete aversion. Dry screams choked and fell silent in her throat, quickly smothered under Tony’s hand as he covered her mouth.
A second warm tear escaped from Kate’s eye, rolling down the side of her face. Tony’s breathing grew stronger and more urgent, his hold on her tightening, grasping her limp body against his own as he attempted to muffle his heavy groans in the tangled waves of her hair.
It was then that she noticed the piece of rope around Tony’s neck, somewhere between a dizzying sensation of suffocation and pain. Kate cried out again, a quiet moan that barely disrupted the silence of the night. Her eyes widened as she focused on it, remembering - as much as her confused senses would allow, not so long ago when she had made similar items for Alessa and Tash. Amulets to protect against Delancre’s mind reading capabilities. Thick and black and coated in some waxy substance… Kate also remembered with torment how Tony had helped clean her bloody shoulder after she scratched herself on a rose thorn in the greenhouse, and the dozens of opportunities he might have had to take something personal of hers – enough to provide any adept with the tools to create such an object.
Frustrated tears welled up in her eyes; angry and infuriated at her own stupidity. Pure fury burned deep in her bones as she felt Tony reaching his climax, his breath hasty and rasping against her neck again as he clutched her body tightly, trembling and shuddering against her.
Curling her fingers around the rope, Kate tore the talisman free, screwing it up in her hand.
With a final groan, Tony slumped over her, panting heavily before climbing off. Kate mumbled in loathing as she felt his warm fluid leaking from between her aching legs. Never in her life had she ever felt so sickened.
She could hear Tony’s heavy, tired panting and the sound of his zipper as he fastened his pants back up. His feet hit the ground at irregular intervals, his footing unsteady and erratic. Kate pressed her knees together firmly, a solid aching throbbing through her insides. Drawing her arms to cover her exposed breasts, Kate slowly forced herself to roll over to lie on her side. Silently she watched Tony as he stumbled back to the car exhausted from his accomplishments and leaned against the bodywork, lighting up a cigarette.
Kate groaned uneasily, she hurt terribly and the more she began to come to her senses the more pain she felt. She maintained her foetal position, receiving some small comfort from the feel of her own arms wrapped around herself. Without the talisman in force her telepathic powers were already returning and though he was several yards away she could feel the intensity of Tony’s sobering objective as strongly as if he were standing next to her. Images of her own body in a variety of gruesome poses, her limbs arranged in an array of sordid positions flashed like a paparazzi’s camera bulb in the dull recesses of her mind as Kate tapped into the man’s thoughts.
The images sent shivers crawling over her skin. Without even thinking she began to chant, her voice trembling and little more than a whisper.
”Isis, Dione, Sabine, Hecate, Potina, Antheia…”
Again and again Kate intoned the names of the ancients, every fibre of her body, mind and spirit calling out to them for help. She closed her eyes tightly, her breath rapid and drawn as she focused intently on her plea. Uncurling one of her hands, Kate reached out towards a small rock that rested not far from her head. Using every ounce of her strength she pressed her hand against one of the ragged corners, spilling her blood upon the hard stone until it ran down in a thick river to be soaked into the ground.
”Isis, Dione, Sabine, Hecate, Potina, Antheia…”
Kate lay back exhausted, still mouthing her incantation although she made no sound. This was magic in it’s most primitive form, a lone witch calling on her gods in her time of need. Kate continued to move her lips noiselessly. The night seemed to grow still again.
Suddenly the light evening breeze seemed to swell momentarily, it moved through the tree branches over head and the tall grass before dancing over Kate’s face like a loving embrace from a mother to its child. Kate opened her eyes and stared upwards, murmuring her gratitude as she felt the first beginnings of that unearthly power that she so often drew upon to aid her in the Craft descend upon her now, slowly energising her weary flesh and bones.
“Protect me…” she mumbled quietly, “Orbis… Contege… Defende…”
Tony had just crushed the butt of his cigarette under his boot when he heard Kate’s quiet voice. His spine stiffened as he swiftly opened the glove box and grabbed his gun, running back to where Kate lay just in time to see a silver glow of energy circle the earth around her.
“What the-?” he swore angrily, raising his gun and aiming it at her, his face twisting into an expression of heedful rage. “You’d better not have done anything stupid,” he warned her, nudging the toe of his boot across where the circle of light had appeared. Nothing happened.
Tony chuckled to himself. “Nice try, whatever that was.” He sighed, letting his eyes fall across her body. Despite Kate’s attempts to preserve her modesty she still looked unrestrainedly defiled, in fact her endeavours added a rather childlike, virginal quality to her repose. He would have to remember that when it came to arranging her corpse for the cops to find. He wanted Galen Eldridge to know, to feel exactly what he’d had taken away from him. His beautiful wife, raped and beaten and left half-naked by the roadside still looking as sweet and innocent as the day he’d married her. That would kill him, that would seal his revenge for his part in Majestic’s ‘grand scheme’.
“Well, it’s been a real pleasure knowing you,” said Tony, squeezing his finger on the trigger. The sound of the bullet exploding from the barrel of the gun shattering the silence of the night. However, Tony’s smugness was short lived and quickly replaced by frustration as Kate pushed herself up from the ground, as alive as ever. He took a few steps closer, firing several shots at her but as he did a transparent shield of energy absorbed each bullet, turning the hard metal into dust.
Tony screamed in anger, firing his gun repeatedly until he ran out of bullets. “You fucking bitch!” he swore viciously, running his hand up to his throat, suddenly feeling the absence of his talisman. He exhaled slowly, quickly cooling his rage.
“Clever little Wiccan,” he said quietly. “Caught me out, well it certainly took you long enough.”
Kneeling down on the ground, Tony smiled knowingly at Kate, his eyes connecting directly with hers. “So what are we going to do now hmm? How long can you keep this little spell of yours up for? ‘Cause I gotta tell you Kate, I’ve been waiting a long time to get my revenge so a few more hours doesn’t exactly bother me.”
He reached over her and grabbed his jacket from the floor, it was a little bloody and covered in dirt but it didn’t matter. He felt around in the pockets, removing the same small plastic container as before only now it held only about half of the clear liquid it had once contained.
“I brought more than I needed just in case,” he said contemplatively, “you being a witch and all I wasn’t sure how you’d react. That’s why I needed the talisman, to protect myself, my thoughts from you. It would have ruined all my plans if you’d found out too soon what my intentions were.” He smiled again. “So how does this spell of yours work? I mean, I’m no witch but I’m just curious if protection spells only guard you from a direct threat of violence.”
He turned the small vial of Ketamine over and over in his hand. “Maybe if I can control my anger then I won’t be seen as a threat. Do you think that will work Kate?”
The two of them stared at each other silently for a moment before Kate suddenly rolled over to her knees and tried to scramble to her feet to make a run for it. Tony laughed as her legs collapsed beneath her and she fell back to the ground. He rose to his full height and walked over to her, his movements calm and collected.
“You’re looking a bit fucked,” he said with a grin, placing his heavy boot on her back, knocking her back to the ground and holding her down. “Was I really that good? You can’t even walk…”
“Screw you,” mumbled Kate breathlessly, her voice muffled against the earth.
“Oh, no…” laughed Tony again, crouching low to her level, “I think we already played that game Princess,” he said softly, rolling her head back so he could look in her face. “But if you want me to make it a matinee I’ll certainly oblige you.”
Kate felt pure hatred well up inside her chest, so violent that it burned like fire. Using what energy she had left she spat in Tony’s face.
He smiled a crooked, twisted smile as he wiped the spittle from his cheek, pausing a moment further before grabbing Kate by the hair and pulling her up from the ground. “My you’re a spirited one, aren’t you? I fuck the living hell out of you and yet you still have the energy to spit in my face huh?”
Tony twisted his fist a little more, the handful of scarlet curls circling his fingers. He removed his gun from the belt of his trousers. It held no more bullets but that didn’t stop it from being a weapon. Raising his hand he brought the butt of the gun down to bear, solidly impacting with the side of Kate’s head. He took several more violent strikes, her screams filling the night.
Kate cried out in pain as her head exploded from the repeated blows and warm blood seeped down the back of her neck. As he raised his hand again, already bloody from his previous assault, Kate suddenly raised her arms and clasped Tony’s skull between her two hands. Her eyes were alight with fury and rage as she screamed with a mixture of her own agony and determination. As worthless as he had made her feel, as dizzy and sick as she felt she wasn’t ready to die. Not like this, used and discarded and beaten, not for Anthony Constillias or his son, not for anybody. She had fought all her life for nobler causes, she could have died at any time, there was no way she was going to let it end like this, as a mere plaything in Tony’s morbid and twisted revenge.
She pressed her fingers hard into his flesh and Tony’s arm fell to his side as though paralysed, his gun dropping from his hand. His eyes went wide with shock and surprise as he felt pain, agonising, torturous pain shooting through his skull.
“You want to know what revenge is?” Kate asked dispassionately, her voice dry and sore. She held Tony’s gaze, her eyes burning into his as she focused every ounce of her will into her task, her fingers gripping more furiously as he tried to wrench himself free. As the strength began to leave Tony’s body the two of them fell to the ground, Kate landing solidly on top of him in a gross parody of their earlier coitus.
Tony’s breathing grew heavy as he felt a pain like none he had ever experienced before rip through his head. He cried out, grabbing hold of Kate by the shoulders and throwing her over so that he was on top of her again. He held her firmly and slammed her against the ground repeatedly, pressing his own fingers around her skull in an attempt to beat her senseless.
Kate increased her hold on Tony, her grip tightening like a vice. She didn’t loosen her hold in the slightest, remaining immovable as though her fingers were an organic part of Tony’s body, growing from the sides of his head like tree branches. Kate focused all her mental powers into one centre, so great was her concentration that the veins in the side of her forehead enlarged, protruding painfully as she directed all her strength and energy towards ending Tony’s life.
His screams grew louder and more unholy as indescribable agony ripped through the core of his brain, turning it into soup. Blood dripped from Kate’s nose from the strain, every vein in her face and skull raised against her skin. Tony’s own blood rolled from his eyeballs, ears and nose as she turned his brain matter to mush. Kate met his bloody gaze, feeling every ounce of his pain resonating inside her, begging for mercy. She held on to it, feeling it mix with the sense of helpless desperation she’d felt earlier as he’d raped her and ramming it back through his mind.
Soon Kate’s own screams joined Tony’s as she rushed to an end, feeling his blood vessels burst and tissues rupture, waiting for that last second before his brains would explode within his skull like a burst water balloon. The end came as a pleasant sense of relief to Kate, Tony gurgled, choking on his last breath as more brain matter spewed from his ears and nose. He went limp in her arms, his heavy body pinning her to the ground.
Kate cried out, groaning in unbearable pain and screwing her eyes up tightly. Her blood pounded heavily in her ears until she finally re-opened her eyes, feeling the pressure easing. Using the last of her strength she pushed Tony’s body off her own, and then just lay there quietly, her head split in two with pain and her face numb. Things grew darker; at least it seemed that way as she lay motionless, her eyes drawn up to the skies once more. The dark heavens expanded and rolled and Kate felt herself move with them, so dizzy and tired…
Kate closed her eyes.
When she came to again she didn’t even know how much time had passed but she felt different. Her body ached furiously in every muscle but she felt lighter and more conscious. She rolled over to her side, the movement of her body feeling like some strange miracle as she placed a hand to the ground and pushed herself up.
Sudden nausea rose from the pit of her stomach. The taste of bile was raw and bitter in her mouth as the muscles in her throat seemed to tighten and contract, turning her stomach over in a somersault before she was violently sick. Great heaving tremors wracked her body for several minutes before the nausea finally subsided.
Kate wiped her watery eyes, her face pale and drawn. She reached up to her nose, feeling her own blood still there even though it seemed to have dried some, leaving a sticky crimson film on her skin. She wiped her wrist against her face, trying to clear away it away.
Pushing herself up to her knees, Kate scrambled to her feet. She lurched wildly, her legs still shaky and her body protesting in pain. Not only that but she felt something wet and disgusting running down the insides of her thighs. With a frustrated sob her legs collapsed beneath her weight and she fell back down to her knees. Kate lay in the dirt crying morbidly, trying furtively to hold her torn clothing in place across her otherwise naked body. She felt dirty and contaminated.
Her eyes fell upon Tony’s dead body, twisted into an expression of pain and a flood of memories swept over her, of her feeling his thoughts, sharing his pain as she ended his life… She could still see the look in his eyes as she’d forced the life out of his body. She’d felt every single moment of that, felt his spirit jolt out of his corpse in that final second as death arrived.
Kate sobbed again; turning back towards the steep embankment that led up to the highway. She couldn’t stay down here with him all night; she had to get help. She was trembling so profusely from shock she could barely breathe, still Kate dragged herself, half crawling through the dirt and grass, her knees bloody and cut, her clothes weighted down with blood and dirt and bodily fluids. She crawled and stumbled up the steep embankment in the direction of the traffic, clawing her way like an animal until she finally reached the top.
Headlights blinded her fragile senses and, unable to continue anymore she stumbled awkwardly before falling back down to the ground. The sound of cars and trucks whizzing by only feet from where she lay invaded her subconscious. Kate lay motionless on the side of the road, her insides hurting more and more until it was all she could think about.
A bright light suddenly filled her senses. Kate held her hand up to cover her eyes, the sound of tyres on asphalt and the squeal of dry brake pads were the last things she heard before she slipped back to the ground and let the darkness swallow her entirely.
The Kindness of Strangers
Max Kennedy jumped out of his Jeep Wrangler taking tentative steps towards the dark, huddled shape lying on the side of the road. He’d been on his way to a party with some of his buddies when he’d noticed something emerge from up the side of the embankment and collapse by the highway. He didn’t know why he’d stopped, whether it was a genuine urge to help or just morbid curiosity, either way he couldn’t let himself drive by without checking it out.
“Fuck! Shit!” he cried out, taking several more steps towards the heap of limbs and torn clothes that lay on the hard shoulder of the road. “Fuck Benny! I told you it was a body!”
“What the hell you doing Max?” shouted another male voice. A youth of about twenty stood up and leaned forwards over the windshield of the jeep. “Get back here we’re gonna be late for the party. If Alison Kent cops off with someone else ‘cos you have us playing CSI I’ll fucking kill you!”
“Yeah, come on dude,” shouted another young male, “its probably just some crack addict.”
“It’s a woman,” mumbled Max as he leaned over her. Her dull red hair hung in tangled curls, sprayed out across the asphalt. Crouching low he warily rolled her over, grimacing uncomfortably as her breasts swung free from her ripped blouse and her torn skirt exposed the pubis of her vagina. He hesitated, wanting to cover her up but not wanting to touch her either.
“Shit,” he mumbled quietly to himself.
A light groan from her mouth almost scared him to death.
“Benny! Get that blanket from the backseat” he yelled in panic, checking the woman’s pulse like he’d been shown in first aid class. Acting on impulse now his discomfort at her appearance was replaced by genuine concern. He crouched closer, kneeling on the tarmac. He brushed back her hair, his fingers trailing in something warm and wet. He balked, resisting the urge to wipe the coating of blood and dirt on his jeans.
“Miss?” he called anxiously. “Can you hear me? Miss? I just want to help okay? I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“Oh man…” said Benny in shock as he appeared with the blanket in his hands. His eyes wandered over the woman’s exposed body before he quickly bent low and lay the blanket over her. He looked up at Max, his face pale and slightly nauseated. “She alive?”
“Yeah.” He turned to his friend, “call for an ambulance, and you’d better call the cops too.” His eyes wandered over to the embankment and the tire tracks just a few yards ahead.
“Shit, no! I ain’t calling no cops!” said Benny in protest, “just look at her, fuck knows what’s happened – I’m not getting blamed for that.”
“Benny call the fucking cops you goddamn asshole!” screamed Max, turning back to the woman. His eyes were contorted into an expression somewhere between pity and horror. He pulled the blanket around her more securely, tucking it around her shoulders.
“It’s okay Miss,” he said nervously. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be saying or doing, part of him wished he’d never stopped except… well what if no one had stopped and she’d died and it had been on the news and he’d remembered how he’d seen and not stopped…
“The ambulance is on its way,” announced Benny a few minutes later. “Whadda we do now?”
Max looked up at his friend, sighing tensely. “Wait I guess.”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Wednesday, July 18 2007 - 9:20 PM
Youth: Hostile
From a broken-out window on the second floor of the youth home, Benji stared out into the empty street. He instinctively scratched his left wrist, but he didn't know why, exactly. He didn't think he was itchy. He used to wear a bracelet on that hand, but he had given it away some time ago. He hadn't thought about that bracelet in months. It was strange how things come to mind for no reason at all, he thought.
Benji's head snapped to attention at a faint pounding outside of the room. Quick footsteps shook the hall staircase, and shortly thereafter Walt and Julia burst through the door exasperated.
"Crazy place you got here," Walt murmured.
Julia shot him a silencing look and approached Benji at the window. "Benji, do you know everyone who comes to Youth: Hostile?" she asked wistfully.
Benji did not turn to face her. "I meet most of 'em. We're always getting more. Some slip in and out so fast I never even notice." He shrugged and slouched towards his armchair.
"You're probably not missing much," Walt quipped as he took Benji's place by the window.
Julia went on. "So, do you know Rose Bellwether?"
Benji perked up a bit, mildly interested now. "Ah. You've met Black Rosie. Good times."
Julia laughed uncomfortably. "Black Rosie? Why do they call her that?"
"Well, gee, she is black, Jules..." Walt snapped. He pounded on the window sill in frustration. "Are we going hunting or something, by the way?"
Benji ignored Walt's grumbling. "Not because of her race. It's not like that," he assured Julia. "It's because...well, she used to run with a particular crowd."
The girl vamp nodded intently. "That's why I ask about her in the first place. She was just now downstairs in the lobby, going on 'bout her old crew!"
"That again?" Benji asked her. "She goes off at regular intervals with that stuff. Something about the glory days of the Los Angeles vampires, and black gems or some 'Mother Mariah' crap. Other than that she's cool, though."
Of all the nuts who made YH their home, Rosie was notable for three reasons. First, she was by far the oldest vampire in residence. She claimed to be at least a hundred, but she was an unreliable source. The second reason she was odd was that she was the only vamp at YH not deliberately abandoned by her sire. She liked to go on and on about how hers was staked by some vampire hunter, and afterwards she made her way to the home to work through her grief. The third reason she stood out was because she was completely insane. Insanity in itself was unremarkable. Benji himself had been told that he was a bit mad. However, Rosie had a special kind of insanity, the kind that only comes from good breeding and many years of inner turmoil.
Benji knew of this "Black Rosie", and found her interesting in comparison to the mediocre vamps in YH. He listened to her stories and remembered them, but never thought of them as anything other than urban fairy tales.
"I don't know, Benji. It sounded pretty romantic to me," Julia laughed. "She speaks about her gang like they were the masters of the world, the lords of LA!"
"Then obviously she left out the part about the gang's grisly demise?" Benji stared ominously at Julia as he rose from his tattered chair. "She told me once, and I never forgot. I tried, but I couldn't..." He knew he was being fake, but Benji assumed a devilish smile and a scary tone of voice. The startled look on Julia's face was priceless.
Walt spun around. "Ooh! Grisly demise, eh? First that story, then hunting!" Walt decided.
Benji nodded. "Afterwards we'll eat. But first, since you asked..."
Walt and Julia took their seats on a torn couch in front of him like two demonic schoolchildren. Julia usually waxed sycophantic, and Walt was mostly uncontrollable, but to have two such vampires following at one's heels was a great accomplishment for a vampire as young as Benji.
"Gather 'round, kids. This evening's story is an uplifting cautionary tale. Papa Benji's going to tell you the story of the Black Veins, their loves and their triumphs, and most importantly, how they met their terrible end at the hands of a fellow vampire..."
The pair sat silently in front of Benji for a few hours before they all went out for food. Not once during this time did Walt complain.
Collect Call
Kate and Galen’s House
Thursday, 19th July 2007
Just Before Midnight
“Honey?” called out Galen as he closed the front door and dropped his keys on the hallway table. “Honey are you home?”
Hanging up his coat, Galen proceeded into the kitchen, setting down a bottle of wine and a large brown paper bag on the counter. He glanced up at the clock on the wall, frowning a little. He knew Kate was taking Marianne out for her birthday but it was only supposed to be for a few drinks and they had arranged to have a late supper together.
“I got your favourite!” he called out, thinking that maybe she was just upstairs in the bath or something. “Moroccan bean stew and apricot couscous?” Reaching up into the cupboard he took out a couple of plates before he began removing several take-out containers from the paper bag, setting them out on the counter.
Hearing no sound from upstairs, Galen frowned again, wandering out of the kitchen and back into the hallway. He looked up the staircase, waiting to hear some sounds of life but the only noise was that of the grandfather clock which ticked steadily in the empty house. A terrible sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.
“Kate?” he shouted again.
A flicker of worry crossed Galen’s brow and he looked down, his eyes drawn to the blinking light of the answer machine. He reached out his hand, his finger hovering above the play button momentarily before pressing it.
[serif]You have one new message…[/serif]
Past Lives Pt.4 - A Long Night's End
PAST LIVES - PART 4
A LONG NIGHT’S END
Los Angeles County Hospital
Friday, 20th July 2007
0:45am
“Is he here yet?” asked Kate anxiously as Officer Elaine West poked her face around the door before entering the room again. The young blonde shook her head of fizzy curls, pulling up a chair by the side of the bed where Kate lay.
“Not yet but one of my colleagues left a message, I’ll make sure he’s brought in when he gets here.”
Kate nodded and rested her head back down on the pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling while the medical examiner took a scraping from under her fingernails.
Officer West paused for a moment before removing her notebook from her jacket pocket. She’d already taken down the woman’s account of the assault earlier, but there were still many areas where she’d been less than clear – especially when it came to the death of Officer Green.
“If you don’t mind…” she said cautiously, pulling a pen from the ring-binding on her notebook, “could we just go over things one more time?”
“Is this really necessary?” interjected the medical examiner – a sturdy, serious looking woman with skin so black it looked almost blue. “Mrs Eldridge has already answered your questions and considering the extent of her injuries she really should be resting-“
“I’ll be brief-“ Elaine interrupted, turning towards Kate and smiling sympathetically. “I know this must be very hard for you but I need to get the facts straight.”
Kate swallowed uneasily, her throat feeling dry and sore. The last thing she wanted right now was to have to go through the whole thing again, she wanted it to be over. Slowly she nodded her head in agreement.
“Okay, so… you met Mr Green at the La Rumba club, the two of you had a few drinks and then he offered to take you home?”
Kate frowned slightly, “well… yes, I mean I didn’t meet with him, I was there with a friend-”
“Miss Marianne Freemont?”
“Yes, a-and then she left with her boyfriend and then…” Kate winced, holding her throbbing head tiredly. She still felt confused and disorientated; she didn’t even know how she’d managed to get to the hospital or how much time had passed since she’d blacked out. Now she had to try to remember everything that had happened when all she wanted was Galen to come and take her home.
“Just take your time Mrs Eldridge,” said Elaine patiently though her voice held a note of irritation. The truth was Tony had been a close friend of hers, a very close friend and she found it difficult to believe that he was capable of what this woman was accusing him of. Now Tony was dead and Elaine was determined to get to the bottom of exactly what had happened tonight.
“I just need to move your gown to one side,” instructed the medical examiner gently, folding back the light blue cotton material to reveal several dark bruises on Kate’s upper thighs. The bright light of the camera bulb flashed again, capturing every detail.
Kate inhaled deeply, holding the air in her lungs momentarily before releasing a heavy sigh. “I was about to leave when a man made a pass at me and Tony, he stepped in. I… I felt grateful, so I stayed for a few drinks.” Kate closed her eyes momentarily, hearing the pounding music of the club in her ears as she relived those moments from earlier that night. Had Tony planned for things to be that way? For that man to hit on her so that he could come running to her rescue, luring her into a false sense of security, getting her to drop her guard…
She felt so stupid.
“So the two of you got into his car-“
“No,” said Kate quickly, frowning again, “I mean, he had to help me into the car because I couldn’t walk properly. I… I thought I was drunk.” Kate’s voice trembled slightly, “I, I couldn’t understand why because I’d only had a few drinks…”
“Why don’t we move on to later?” suggested Elaine impatiently. “When he stopped the car, what happened next?”
Kate was silent, her forehead creasing with thought. “I… I don’t know,” she said uneasily, “I was kind of out of it, he carried me out I guess… I remember lying on the ground and he put his jacket under my head…”
Elaine scowled; the nib of her pen paused upon the page. “That’s quite a considerate thing to do, don’t you think?”
Kate shrugged indifferently, her face slowly turning blank again. “Bought me a drink too, I guess he was one of those polite rapists I’m always hearing about.”
Elaine’s lower lip crinkled uncomfortably. “Um… and er, did anything happen prior to the assault?”
“Well he ripped my clothes off first, does that count?” Kate glanced up at the female officer; behind her sympathetic smiles she could feel her overwhelming animosity towards her, she actually resented her for some reason. Kate stared at the woman closely, for a few seconds it was like everything disappeared and she could feel Officer West’s every emotion and thought as though it were her own.
Elaine tapped her pen against her notepad. “And when he engaged intercourse. Did he use protection?”
“I…” Kate hesitated, breaking contact as she turned away from the young woman. Her gaze followed the elderly medical examiner as she set down the camera and picked up some other instruments.
The old woman smiled as she returned to Kate, taking her long tangled hair in her hands. Using gentle strokes, she ran a wide toothed comb through her locks, removing several leaves and strands of grass and placed them into separate plastic bags. She ran her long, wrinkled fingers swiftly across the seal, writing up a label before transferring the bag to her evidence kit.
“I don’t know,” said Kate with another sigh. “I don’t remember.”
Elaine smiled falsely. “That’s okay,” she said sweetly. “You’re bound to have some memory loss as a result of the Ketamine, if anything comes back to you make a note of it and contact us. Now, if I could just go over-”
“I have to perform an internal exam,” said the elderly nurse briskly, straightening up to her full height. “If you could wait outside until it’s finished?”
“It’s alright I think I’ve got enough for the moment,” said Elaine, returning her notebook to her jacket pocket. She hesitated, casting a curious frown in Kate’s direction before turning and leaving the room.
“My what a bitch,” said the nurse with a grin as the door closed. “We’ve had that one here before, she sure thinks she’s something special.”
Kate smiled back though her expression was devoid of humour. “You said you needed to do an internal?”
“Yes,” said the nurse as she pulled on a fresh pair of latex gloves. “I’m sorry, I know this must be distressing for you but-“
“It’s okay,” said Kate quietly, her voice dry and empty. “Just do what you have to.”
The nurse stole a quick look at the poor woman. She could never imagine going through this kind of thing, no matter how many girls she saw in the same state. It broke her heart to see this collection of broken women pass through her care, empty and numb, their lives never the same again.
“I’ll try to make it as quick as possible,” she reassured her as she fit Kate’s legs into the stirrups and disappeared from view.
Kate rolled her head to one side, focusing her eyes on a dark-coloured smudge on the far wall. It was bad enough that she had to remember what Tony had done to her, had to remember his hands on her thighs, pulling down her panties and squeezing her breasts until they were sore. She could still feel him inside her, painful and tender. Now she had to cope with another complete stranger retracing the awful things he had done, collecting little samples of everything and putting it in jars.
Kate closed her eyes and tried to pretend that she was anywhere but here.
****
Galen ran into the emergency room, almost colliding with several people as he fought his way to the front desk. His breathing was ragged and short as he leaned against the counter, beating his hand against the surface nervously while waiting for one of the young nurses to acknowledge him.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes,” said Galen anxiously. “My wife, my wife Catherine Eldridge was brought in a little while ago?”
The male nurse looked down at his list of patients, his finger slowly tracing a line down the page. Galen waited impatiently, his eyes scanning through the room full of people. Suddenly he caught sight of a group of police officers further down the corridor and one man in particular, Anton Baker, a fellow detective at the LAPD and the man who had left the message on his answer machine.
“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered to the nurse before turning away and heading towards the group of officers.
“-her story’s a bit confused but the tests for Ketamine came back positive, in which case she’ll probably suffer from memory loss anyway.”
“We’ll take her down to the station to make a formal statement later.”
“What about Tony? Do you really think he could do something like this, seems a bit…”
“What’s going on?” asked Galen as he joined the collection of individuals. Their conversation fell silent as he arrived, their faces creased with concern and sympathy.
Anton separated himself from the other two and wrapped a supportive arm around his fellow work colleague and friend. “I’m so sorry Galen…” he said gently, his usually gruff voice sounding hollow and dismayed. “A couple of college guys found her just off the interchange, she was unconscious lying by the side of the road, they called the paramedics.” He took a deep breath; “she’s been attacked, raped… Galen it was Tony, he was found dead a little way down the embankment.”
“Tony?” the emptiness of Galen’s voice conveyed all of his confusion and disbelief. “Why? Wha-“
“We might never know,” admitted Anton, “Kate… she doesn’t really remember much. Apparently the two of them met in a bar, shared a few drinks… looks like he must have drugged her at some point, pretended he was gonna take her home and then-“
“I can’t believe it,” said Galen quietly, feeling a sudden wave of sickness wash over him. “Is uh… Kate, is she…?”
“She seems okay,” Anton said encouragingly. He could tell his friend was shaken, his face seemed to have been drained of all its colour. “The nurse is with her at the moment doing a full exam. She’s a little distant… but that’s probably just the drugs. We found a half-empty bottle of Ketamine on Tony’s body, it looks like the same stuff that was stolen from the evidence locker a few days ago.”
Galen drew in a sharp breath, struggling to contain his pent-up emotions; he could feel himself trembling all over with a combination of anger and sorrow. He’d seen his wife to work that morning, kissed her smiling lips as he’d said goodbye. He couldn’t believe that something like this could have happened… and Tony? Why? Why would he want to hurt his wife?
“Detective Eldridge?” said the SAN examiner as she removed herself from Kate’s room. “I’ve finished. You can go in if you want, Catherine said she wanted to see you when you arrived.”
Galen nodded gratefully and slowly walked up to the door, pushing it open.
Kate was sitting when Galen entered the room, her bare feet dangling over the edge of the bed. All her clothes were bagged and tagged, resting on a chair leaving Kate wearing nothing more than a standardised pale blue cotton gown fasted in regimented bows down her exposed back.
Galen felt his spine go rigid as he looked at her, slowly he walked up to the bed, lingering at the end.
“I… I brought you some things,” he said uneasily, placing a bag on the bottom of the mattress. His eyes moved over his wife’s body continuously, from her scratched legs and bruised knees to her bloody fingers and tangled hair. She didn’t look up as he spoke, instead she kept her head bowed, turned away so that he couldn’t see her.
“Just some clean clothes and…” Galen frowned, craning his neck in an attempt to look at her. He let go of the bag and walked so that he was stood directly opposite.
“Katy baby?”
Kate drew a sharp breath into her lungs before slowly tilting her face towards her husband though still keeping her eyes lowered. Eventually she let her eyelids raise, glancing uneasily at Galen with shame and disgrace.
Galen tried to control his response at her appearance but it was hard. Her face was scratched and covered in bruises but it was her eyes, so hollow and empty looking that unsettled him the most. He swallowed uncomfortably, his mouth suddenly turning dry while his own eyes turned down sadly at the corners.
“Oh god…” he mumbled softly, reaching out a hesitant hand to brush her tangled hair behind her ear. Kate looked away awkwardly, closing her eyes as Galen gently stroked his fingers against her bruised cheek. “I’m so sorry… I should have been there…” he said helplessly.
Kate opened her eyes and for the first time since Galen had entered the room she held his gaze firmly. “Don’t say that,” she said insistently, “don’t torment yourself thinking you couldn’t have stopped this from happening.”
Galen rolled his lips together uncomfortably; he could barely look at his wife without feeling a stab of pain in his chest. “A-are you okay? I mean, in a lot of pain or…”
“It um… it hurts,” Kate admitted quietly, looking away again. A heavy sigh billowed from her lips wearily. “I’d kill for a hot bath right now.”
They were both silent for a few moments before Kate raised her eyes again to meet her husband’s awkward gaze. “Just take me home…” she begged softly, “please?”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Thursday 19th July,
4:52am
Outside Morris’ LA hideout.
Robyn hit the ground behind a dumpster, Kyle landing next to her, and two other vampires with long rifles over their backs on either side of them. Behind the dumpster a fence ran along the perimeter of the warehouse, which stood away from any other buildings. Reaching the warehouse itself would require climbing over the fence and then braving the virtual no-man’s-land in-between.
Kyle had to hand it to Morris, the vampire didn’t do things by halves. His warehouse was unassailable from other buildings, had a wide and open stretch around it, all the windows were high up and there was no external ladder or balcony. Robyn’s men –no, vampires- had scouted the perimeter and confirmed all but one door had been blocked in someway. Getting in would be tough.
Robyn peered over the dumpster for what must have been no more than a couple of seconds before dropping down again. “Top left, there’s one amongst the air ducts.” She whispered to the one next to Kyle, and then to the one next to her; “Top right. He’s having a cigarette and looking the other way.”
Both vampires nodded and slung the rifles off their shoulders, resting them on top of the dumpster. Robyn gave them about ten seconds, and then breathed; “Fire.”
The vampires fired together, almost before Robyn had finished talking. There was a near-silent double puff of compressed air, then the vampires dropped down, quickly racked the slide, and swung up again. A few tense moments passed by in which Kyle could see the concern on Robyn’s face.
“Target eliminated.”
“Target eliminated.” They both confirmed.
“Maintain position, keep a look out for anymore.” Robyn commanded, visibly relaxing, and then made a hand-signal back into the shadows where the rest of the vampires were waiting.
Kyle frowned. “Wooden bullets?”
The red-head gave him a wink. “Not exactly. Wooden bullets are too unreliable and too troublesome. These are tranquillisers filled with holy water. Once it gets into the blood stream – they’re over. The only downside is that if it doesn’t hit the blood stream straight away, it hurts a hell of a lot and can cause a hell of a lot of a noise. That’s why we only let the best shots use them; they hit the heart every time.” She cocked her head. “By the way, tell anyone and you’re over as well.”
“Right. Got it.” Kyle answered quickly.
In the darkness, he almost thought he could make out a small smile on Robyn’s face, but he couldn’t be sure. Chad suddenly loomed up out of the darkness in a crouching run and dropped down next to them, silently passing Robyn a pair of wire cutters. She slid round the side of the dumpster and started cutting through the fence, making a hole big enough for them all to easily pass through. When she was done she motioned for Kyle to follow and went through herself, smoothly drawing a gun.
Kyle moved passed Chad, who was waving at the other vampires to follow. In two’s they came, swiftly and silently crossing the distance to the dumpster. The Kaoshian couldn’t make out how many there were exactly, for they hugged the shadows and moved like wraiths, but he guessed there were a lot.
Through the hole in the fence, he ran as quickly and as quietly as he could to join Robyn, who was now backed up against the wall of the warehouse, but his pitiful attempt was a joke compared to the vampires. They moved more silently than any others he had ever seen, and now he began to truly realise they were a hard-trained, elite unit.
Soon all the vampires had fanned out along the wall, with Chad bringing up the rear. He slung his pack off his shoulder and removed a large, black object that he passed to Robyn. Another he sent further down the line left, and he moved off to the right with presumably more himself.
Robyn fastened the object to the wall and began punching in numbers on the keypad. “Bomb.” She mouthed wordlessly to Kyle in explanation, who nodded in understanding, and moved several feet further down the wall away from it. Robyn joined him when she was done, and looking left and right Kyle could see the other vampires had also bunched together, leaving gaps of a couple of feet around the bombs.
Leaning in so her mouth was right against his ear, the vampiress whispered in a barely audible tone. “The mines will blow holes in the wall for us to get in. As soon as they go off, we move in and spread out. I’ve told my people not to attack a Kaoshian demon, so I suggest you switch form as soon as possible. Then its just a case of only staking anything that tries to fight you. Got it? Don’t speak.”
Kyle just vigorously nodded his head, and winked. He saw then that she knew he understood, and Kyle was almost one-hundred per-cent certain he saw a smile that time.
Robyn checked left and right and received nods. Then she held up her hand with three fingers splayed. One dropped, then the second, and on the third she looked away and shielded her head as all the others did, and hit a remote activation switch.
Each of the mines exploded together, blowing great holes in the wall. Robyn was the first to move, plummeting into the black hole that had been created even before dust had settled or the ring of the explosion had cleared from Kyle’s ears. Then he saw other vampires moving to follow, and he grabbed his stake, plunging in after her.
****
It was quiet. A bit too quiet, if you wanted to use an old movie-cliché.
Hunter wasn’t a huge fan of sieges, since they were basically nothing more than just a wait for the enemy to make their move. He was more in favour of taking down the enemy before they could make a move.
He glanced over his team, which were about twelve vampires all in all. Four were mages. None had experienced a real battle before. Morris had assigned them with guarding the window on the south-western side of the warehouse, which proved either that he still didn’t trust Hunter fully out or that he was incredibly paranoid since nobody, unless they had wings could make their way up there.
Then again, there was nothing wrong with being paranoid in a situation like this.
Hunter looked down on the (through his opinion) incredibly ugly bracelet that was attached to his wrist. It was made up of what looked like a number of icy blue beads. Morris had given him it after hearing that the Brotherhood’s little force also consisted of a Kaoshian as a little aid.
“Ah, this is pointless!” A voice suddenly broke the silence.
Hunter, like the rest of the group turned his attention to it’s source: a young man who seemed to be in his twenties.
Hunter recognised him as Harris Something, (Hunter hadn’t caught his last name or frankly given a fuck about it) an annoying and whining little wanker that he had several times this hour thought of forcing to chug down holy water.
“Why the hell are we here anyway? There’s no fucking way they would attack us from here!” He continued.
“Because, it’s our orders.” Hunter answered, turning towards the younger vampire. “And if you don’t wanna be turned into a living torch, you’re gonna do as you’re said to do and not whine about it every bloody second. Got it?!”
The fledgeling was silent for a few seconds, then gave a short nod not wanting to start anything with the older vampire.
Then suddenly a loud boom was heard and they all felt a small rumble under their feet and as it stopped just as suddenly as it had started they were all silent. No words were needed to describe what just had happened. The enemy had finally made their move.
Harris was just about to open his mouth as he was cut off, by Hunter.
“Not a bloody word.” He muttered, then drew his blade and then turned towards the others exclaiming: “Ah, bugger this! Let’s move.”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Kyle’s vision was full of smoke from the bomb, making it hard to see a few feet in front of himself in the darkness, and had the effect of making the space seem a lot smaller. He could feel his heart thumping and laboured breathing, accompanied by intermittent machine gun fire. Somebody was screaming. Somewhere ahead, probably only a few feet he guessed, was Robyn, but even after over half a dozen feet into the warehouse his sight still hadn’t adjusted properly.
His foot clipped rubble Kyle didn’t even know was there, and he fell forward. An object, a body, loomed up in his face and they collided; Kyle’s momentum knocking them both to the ground. The body, a vampire, didn’t look like any on Robyn’s team and in a sudden moment of realisation Kyle knew it had been running towards the breach. Towards them.
The stake was gone. He didn’t remember dropping it, so it must have fallen out of his grasp when he hit the vampire. Shifting into his demon form, he grabbed onto the writhing creature of the night with all his strength.
The vampire yelled and cried out, trying to push Kyle off him, but that only further set him alight. Then he was only ashes.
Kyle climbed quickly to his feet. The dust had settled and his sight had adjusted. He could see Robyn’s vampires moving in around him and Morris’ strewn out across the warehouse. Many were already involved in a vicious hand to hand combat. Others were in a deadly shoot-out, their weapons echoing through the warehouse. It appeared Morris had been expecting company and had prepared for an attack. But one thing was for certain; Robyn’s vampires were making advances.
The Koashian couldn’t afford to waste any more time watching. He followed three vampires as they moved in through the breach and into the thick of the large melee developing in the centre of the warehouse. One on his left, Kyle didn’t even get a look at his face, yelled as a fireball burst from one of the galleries and turned him to ashes. Another, female, stopped and dropped to a crouch and returned fire with her machine gun, sending the vampires on the gallery darting for cover. As she climbed to her feet she was virtually torn apart herself by gunfire, and fell into a pained, messy heap.
Kyle and the other vampire had already darted past her and into the relative safety of the melee. There were vampires battering themselves all around him. Being a blazing fire demon, Kyle quickly attracted attention – in fact it was probably more difficult not to notice him – and he was soon fighting for his life.
***
Robyn moved amongst Morris’ vampires like death incarnate. She held her pistol in a two-handed grip, and every time it bucked and fired another vampire dropped from an exploding bullet to the head. But more and more of them kept coming. Their estimations on Morris’ strength had been worryingly low. And they had magic. Lots of it. Robyn cursed the fact she hadn’t brought any mages of her own with her, but they were occupied elsewhere. With the element of surprise gone, any minute now they’d run the risk of being overrun.
Until that moment, though, she had a lot of killing to do.
She saw magic flying down from the galleries and her own vampires coolly returning fire. Looking up gave Robyn the split second she needed to see a vampire leaping over the railings to drop down onto her.
Even before he began to fall her gun was up, and the bullet took him in the throat. The small detonation took his head right off, and the vampire hit the ground as dust.
Hell, she was damn good at that.
Another of Morris’ vampires died.
***
As soon as she heard the detonations, Roxanna and her vampires had moved. Stationed near the backroom nicknamed the Library for all the books Morris had stored in there, she hurriedly ordered a handful to stay behind and guard and the rest came with her. As she moved through the warehouse she heard gun fire and screams, and as she drew nearer could feel magic running through the air.
The Brotherhood had made their move at last. The paranoia and tension of the last several months was evaporating at last.
The vampiress ordered another handful of vampires who were just standing around looking confused to fall in step with her lot.
Oh, yes. Roxanna smiled. This was going to be good. The Brotherhood were going to regret attacking Morris Giles. She was going to make sure of that.
***
The blade of the katana flew swiftly in a wide arch as another vampire’s body disintegrated into dust. Hunter moved like a silent shadow over the battlefield, killing those that came in his way.
He definitely couldn’t say that the Brotherhood wasn’t well armed, since they were using guns armed with fucking holywater-tranquilizers, which proved even further that these guys were far from being rookies to the laws of combat.
Hunter felt the heat of yet another fireball passing over his head as it hit a nearby vampire who gave a scream of both pain and fear as his body was reduced into a pile of ashes.
Even though they were doing pretty good so far they need more reinforcements and more were probably coming unless they were all completely deaf.
As he dodged yet another time out of range from another tranquilliser who imbedded itself in the nearby wall, he noticed something on the wooden floor.
They were burnmarks and he at first glance had dismissed them to be from some mage’s spell. but as he now looked closer he could see that they weren’t.
For one, they were very big and had a very strange pattern.
They looked like footprints.
A grin flashed over his lips as he whispered: “Koashian.....” and then quickly followed them through the chaos of the battlefield.
This would be fun.....
***
Walker and his group of vampires ploughed into the Brotherhood’s forces a few seconds after Hunter, and only moments later Roxana and her own minions arrived. They cut a swathe into the combat, dropping enemy vampires left and right so quickly Kyle feared they would be overrun. Then Morris appeared in the galleries, shouting encouragement and blasting Robyn’s vampires with powerful magic. The line wavered as vampires dropped like flies, but held at two points: at Robyn and at Chad. The two vampires cut down any vampire that came close – Robyn blasting them with her gun, Chad twirling two long knives, hacking vampires apart all over the show.
Kyle found himself cut off from any of Robyn’s vampires, surrounded only by enemies. He saw Robyn amidst the maelstrom and fought tooth and nail over towards her. With the amount of vampires fighting him, it seemed that like after every step he took forward, he was forced back another two. Already he was battered and bleeding, but they kept on coming.
A vampire charged at him, and Kyle retained just enough sense to duck, grabbing the vampire by the legs and propelling him over his back using his own momentum against him. The vampire never hit the floor – he exploded into fire and ash, forcing the male and female vampires behind Kyle to back off, brushing the remains of their comrade out of their eyes. Another vampire spun a sword towards Kyle’s throat, and he ducked with but a second to spare. The sword whisked by him and, had he been in human form, would have probably taken off a good portion of his hair. Fortunately, he was in demon form, and with the vampire off balance Kyle shot back up, grabbing his sword arm and ramming his blazing tail over his shoulder and into the vampire’s face. The vampire screamed, bursting into flames.
Then Kyle’s path to Robyn, where her forces were regrouping, was clear. He darted forward, breathless and wondering why he had ever agreed to this.
***
Robyn spun, dropping vampires left and right. She knew the battle hung in balance. Ducking behind two of her own, Robyn reloading her weapon in a flash. Her brief respite earned a second to take everything in. The Brotherhood’s forces were decimated and they were taking a pounding from the gallery, but regrouping around her and Chad. The hand-to-hand combat Robyn was certain she could win. It was the magic assault she was worried about. If they held long enough, they could push Morris’ vampires back. But any minute she expected her vampires to break under the torrent of magic, and be swamped.
Quickly, Robyn ordered her fire support teams to increase fire open the gallery. She spun left, dropping to one knee in time to save her neck, firing at point-blank range with the just-recently reloaded weapon into the vampire towering over her. He exploded and Robyn rose, firing again and dropping the vampire behind that one. Behind that one, however, was a female vampire; katana in hand and charging straight towards her. Robyn instantly recognised her from the files she had been provided with – Roxana, Morris’ flame. A plan suddenly formed in her mind. Gritting her teeth, Robyn charged towards the vampiress, gun blazing in her hand.
***
Paying not much heed to what happened at the rest of the battlefield Hunter continued to cut his path forward. He didn't even care to much about how his own squad was doing. He was simply set on one goal: to make his way to the Kaoshian and to kill all those that tried to stop him. Another enemy, another pair of quick cuts, another pile of ashes on the floor. And then repeat. He continued to follow the burnmarks further. Reminded him a bit of that movie "The Wizard of Oz". Except for the fact that it wasn't a Yellow Brickroad and there wasn't a bunch of midgets standing around singing, 'cause if there would have been Hunter would surely have been beating them into a small pulp of blood right now. Then suddenly he caught up a scent. It smelled like brimstones and ashes. He smirked.
"Won't be that long, little firefly....." he whispered as he continued to follow the burnmarks.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Sunday, 22nd July 2007 - 4:21 am
As he looked over the wreck of his home - his sanctuary – Oz felt violated. As if he needed reminding, he was painfully aware that the blessings that protected humanity from supernatural terrors were no longer going to protect him. His mattress had been overturned and the contents of his shelves and cabinets were strewn like a Jackson Pollack painting over the floor. His furniture smelled of frightened cats and ketchup.
"Alessa, what are we going to do now? Is there anyone to call?" he asked piteously. Hunting an ally - a friend - wasn't how he had planned to spend his night.
Oz picked up one of the kittens who was exploring an emptied cabinet. Oz’s voice startled her. Turning to him, she looked dumbly at his attempts to ease the frightened kitten. She moved her mouth, but couldn’t articulate any sound, it seemed that she couldn’t articulate her thoughts either. A soft feeling against her ankles almost made her jump and she looked down to see yet another kitten, softly meowing. Absently she bent to pick it as well, the motion releasing her from her shock.
“We need to warn the rest, imagine- imagine what could happen if- I mean, Tash…” her eyes filled with tears as she looked at Oz. “Oh, my God, Oz, how could this happen to her?”
"Oh, my God, they are all in danger-" Oz stopped abruptly. Of course they were in danger - every day. This wasn't new to them; they'd dealt with a Tash that could not be trusted once before. He had no doubt that Poplar was well warded, as were Daye's and Kate's homes. Ellis' office had its own defenses as well. It was too close to sunrise for Tash to make much more mischief. "We need to get organized, first," Oz said absently. "Who could be ready the quickest? Reah? Ellis? Kate or Daye? Someone needs to be a rally point and they'll have to call as many folks as they can. Where can we start? I can-"
He couldn't. He could already feel the strain of maintaining his mortal visibility. *Shit.* "I am not going to be able to hang for long. I will see what I can do from my end, but it will be on you to – first – find some help and then get everyone together. I'll rejoin you when everyone is together. Will that work?"
Alessa nodded. “Yes, it will.” She frowned, “I think I’ll call Daye and Kate first. Their houses may be guarded but they’d invite her in before realizing what happened… well, maybe Kate would notice, but Daye –” She stopped, she was rambling and they were losing invaluable time. She looked up to Oz’s fading face. “Don’t worry. I’ll see to it. How do I call you?”
Oz's mouth opened and closed. *Call me.* He wasn't to be called or summoned or really to contact mortals at all. But he had an obligation to these forces for good that transcended his mortal existence. He'd decided he had best be truthful with Alessa.
"You can't directly. But call out for me and the other angels will most likely pass along a message to me. You know: 'Angels of Heaven hear me, I need to speak with Ozimandius right now!' or something like that." *And doesn't that sound like a right pompous way to be reached, eh?* he thought. "I'll work on something more permanent."
The kitten mewling in his tight grasp reminded him of the stress that would likely overwhelm him in a few minutes when he either lashed out in rage over the injustice of what had happened to Tash or he collapsed with exhaustion and faded into temporary oblivion after having depleted his spiritual powers just to comfort Alessa.
He set down the kitten and placed his hands on Alessa's shoulders. He could feel her trembling with the shock of it as well. Without saying anything he gathered her slowly into his embrace and held her.
“This is so unfair, Oz,” she sobbed against his chest, a familiar place after all they’d been through. “Tash didn’t deserve this, and now we’ll have to- to kill her. How are we going to do it? Kill her?”
"We will do it because we have to, Alessa. Tash would expect no less of us, and we wouldn't ask her to hold back for some misguided sense of loyalty to some monster that looks like her. This isn't like Hyde – there is no cure for vampirism. There is only the chance that we can spare anyone the evils that she will perpetrate with Tash's face."
Oz could feel the anger rising in his voice, "Nothing will spare her. There is no force in heaven or on Earth that will keep one of her true friends from destroying her utterly in honor of her memory."
A choked sob escaped Alessa’s mouth before she moved away from Oz. She nodded: he was right, they would kill Tash. Not kill, she corrected herself. Dust. As in a vampire; they’d be dusting a vampire. She wasn’t Tash anymore, she was a monster. But then, so was Morris, and she could still remember how it had felt to be in his arms again, even knowing what he was. How deceptive it could all be.
She didn’t want to go on pondering on this, and Oz couldn’t stay and hear her. He was already straining too much. She wiped her eyes, and smiled at him. “Go. Now. As soon as I have things worked out, I’ll call you – or your angels.” She grinned, “You’ll end up making a believer out of me."
Oz relaxed his presence but not his hug and felt her in his arms until he had completely faded from the mortal realm. She appeared as a glowing ghost to him, full of life and purpose. He stepped out into the pre-dawn air and took flight over the city. He considered hunting for Tash but figured that she would be far away from the estate by now and in any one of a hundred small California back streets around L.A.
His thoughts went back to Alessa and the other White Hats. They had no idea of the complexity of life after death (except perhaps for that disagreeable necromancer Dalton) – unlike Oz, who understood that Tash's existence in the beyond was only just beginning. He wished her safe and pleasant journeys wherever her path would take her through the hundreds of heavens now open to her. Because she had already traveled through Hell as far as he could tell, and she deserved a beautiful reward instead.
Home Sweet Home
The Home of Kate and Galen Eldridge
Friday, 20th July 2007
1:23am
The key turned in the lock, the simple sound of metal grating on metal before that satisfying ’click’ as the door swung open. Galen led Kate inside; a supportive arm circled her back guiding her across the threshold yet managed to subtly avoid making any actual bodily contact.
Kate wandered into the hallway, her arms folded protectively across her chest, holding the two halves of her jacket tightly across her body. The house was so quiet it was like somebody had died, it reminded her of the night that they’d returned from the hospital after Emma had passed away. Everything was calm but it was as though a strange kind of light had settled across the house and its contents, things appeared changed yet in reality everything was just the same as it had always been.
“Well… here we are,” announced Galen somewhat nervously, wringing his hands together in an unsettled motion. The journey home from the hospital had been undeniable uncomfortable. Neither of them had said much during that time; Kate had been quiet and withdrawn, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery with her mind seemingly occupied elsewhere. Meanwhile a frustrated Galen had decided to concentrate on his driving in the hope that by the time they reached home the words of comfort and support that he yearned to give would have finally formed themselves.
In silence he observed his wife as she entered the hallway, her movements slow and indecisive. The hospital staff had been reluctant to discharge her but Galen had finally managed to persuade them by making reassurances that if she felt in anyway ill he would take her straight back. Looking at Kate now he was beginning to have doubts that he’d made the right decision. He could tell that she was trying to be strong but underneath her composed and determined exterior lay a fragile girl that was slowly being crushed beneath her invisible burden. Galen longed to hold her close, to pull her into his arms where he could keep her safe, and yet he felt so strangely impotent – had done in fact ever since the moment he’d seen her sat on that hospital bed looking so bruised and worn.
“I know it’s late…” he continued, trying to inject a measure of normalcy into his voice as he dropped his keys on the small console table and began to hang his coat up. “But I could fix you up something to eat…”
Galen carried on talking but Kate didn’t hear a word. Instead she reached out an arm and trailed her fingers slowly across the table where Galen had dropped his keys. Her eyes purposefully avoided the mirror which hung on the wall above until curiosity got the better of her and her eyes flickered upwards, catching sight of her reflection for the first time. Dark, purple bruises had already begun to bloom along her cheekbones and forehead and several small scratches littered the rest of her face. Kate frowned at herself before closing her eyes and turning away.
The momentary darkness brought no comfort. Her mind was suddenly flooded with a bombardment of random images and sounds. Clawing her way up the embankment, the loose dirt coming free in her hands. The far off sounds of traffic from the road above and the noise of birds flapping their wings in the trees overhead. Tony holding her down, his soiled hand firmly clasped over her mouth while his rough, heavy body brushed harshly against the skin of her inner thighs…
“Kate?” said Galen gently, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder when he realised she hadn’t heard him.
The touch of Galen’s hand quickly brought Kate out of her dark anamnesis, so much so that a sharp, sudden gasp forced its way out of her mouth, causing her to jump involuntarily. Galen recoiled, mumbling an uneasy apology while also quickly drawing his hand back and shoving it into the depths of his trouser pocket.
“Honey? Are you okay?” he asked softly but before Kate even had time to answer Galen shook his head in self-annoyance. “I’m sorry, stupid question-“
“No,” Kate insisted as she turned to face him, her eyes softening kindly in response to her husband’s visible discomfort. “I’m fine. Just a little tired really.”
“I… I could run you a bath if you’d like,” Galen suggested, his voice hesitant and uneasy. He felt so useless right now, all he wanted to do was hold Kate in his arms and tell her everything would be alright, that he would look after her. Why did he find it so difficult to express his feelings at times like this?
“It, it might help you to relax,” he stammered, “the, er the hot water and… and I could bring you up some herbal tea, something to eat-“
“I’d like that,” said Kate quietly, halting Galen’s uncomfortable chatter. He nodded silently without further words and began slowly walking up the stairs. Kate watched him with an air of unease until he reached about halfway. She could feel the distance between them just like when they had lost Emma, Galen had cut her off then, choosing to deal with his grief on his own. Kate couldn’t let that happen a second time. All of a sudden she grasped the banister, pulling herself up that first step, her voice calling to her husband with desperation.
“Do you… blame me?” she asked quietly.
Galen stopped, pausing a moment before slowly turning around. Kate’s eyes were wide with worry and apprehension. She sighed wearily, her hand loosening on the rail as her knees went slack and she slid down onto one of the lower stairs.
“You’ve hardly said a word to me since we left the hospital,” she continued. Galen’s footsteps made a slight creaking on the stairs as he walked back down and sat beside her. Kate kept her head lowered, letting her hair fall into her face. “You’re disappointed with me, you… you think I should have been able to stop this from happening.”
Galen’s brow furrowed with disbelief. “Is that what you think?” he asked quietly, his voice filled with confusion. He was quiet for a moment before reaching out a hand and brushing back her hair, tucking it behind her ear.
Kate turned her head just enough so that she could return her husband’s bewildered gaze. “I don’t know… maybe.”
Galen’s eyes searched his wife’s pale face; she looked so frightened and alone. Slowly he shook his head. “Then know that I don’t. Kate I admire you, I… I’m so immensely proud of you, I don’t know how to put it into words.”
Kate frowned slightly. “Proud? I… I don’t understand…”
“You’re a survivor,” he said simply, his eyes still moving over Kate’s bruised and beaten features as he spoke. “I can only imagine what you’ve been through tonight, things that I can barely allow myself to think about. But I look at you and I see this amazing, brave woman. Of course I don’t blame you, you haven’t done anything wrong.”
He sighed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with unease. “I’m sorry if I’m acting like a complete idiot. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing or saying...” He looked away, holding his hands tightly clasped together one over the other, his knuckles white from the strain. “I just wish there was something I could do to make this easier, I want to be here for you, I don’t want you to have to deal with all this on your own.”
“I know,” said Kate understandingly, smiling softly as she placed one of her own hands comfortingly across her husband’s tightly clenched fists. It was only then that she realised he was actually shaking, trembling with an absolute torrent of emotions. Kate tightened her fingers around his hands supportively.
“I didn’t mean for it to sound like I…” Kate sighed wearily, shaking her head, “the truth is I have this terrible migraine, everything just feels sort of… off balance. I should have known you’d understand,” she smiled again softly, squeezing Galen’s hand a little tighter. “Just talk to me, that’s all I want, I know none of this is easy on you either, I just want us to be able to deal with this together.”
Kate paused for a moment, this time she was the one to carefully observe her partner, her eyes searching out her husband’s morose and desolate expression. She wrapped her other arm around him gently, stroking her hand across his back in a soothing manner.
“See?” she said softly, “I’m not going to fall apart if you touch me. I need you to touch me Galen, I need you to keep me grounded, to make me feel like I’m not going mad.” Kate loosened her hold on his hand, bringing her fingers up to Galen’s cheek and stroking the side of his jaw until he finally turned his head and looked at her again. “I need you,” she repeated insistently.
“How can you be so strong?” Galen asked in confusion. He couldn’t believe that after everything she’d been through tonight she was more concerned with soothing his insecurities. She seemed so in control of everything, so calm and in the meantime he was the emotional wreck!
“I’m not that strong,” admitted Kate quietly. “I… keep thinking that if I’d just gone to that party with Marianne, or if I hadn’t gotten into Tony’s car… Mostly I just feel so stupid… and, and I feel like I let you down.”
“You haven’t let me down,” said Galen softly. In the intimacy of the moment he forgot all of his earlier doubts and hesitation and carefully pulled Kate into his arms and held her close, stroking the back of her head comfortingly. “None of this is your fault, you do realise that don’t you? Whatever happened tonight Tony was the one who did all this, not you.”
Kate winced slightly in pain as Galen held her, her back and shoulders were covered in bruises from where Tony had beaten her against the ground, but instead of pulling away she wrapped her own arms around her husband, returning his gentle embrace.
“I just…” Kate sighed, lowering her cheek to rest against Galen’s shoulder. She continued to let him hold her close, it felt so good having his arms around her, so comforting and understanding. Kate was reminded of her wild thoughts as she’d climbed that embankment, desperately trying to reach the road, thoughts of how she could conceal all this from Galen, to save him from the helpless pain that he would feel. Now she couldn’t imagine how such a thought had ever entered her head. Just having Galen’s arms around her like this, feeling his strength surrounding her… it was more wonderful than she’d ever remembered.
“All this… it brings back bad memories,” Kate confessed quietly. “I never thought I’d have to go through all this again, I thought I’d moved on and now…” she held her breath for a moment, pressing her cheek more firmly against Galen’s muscular shoulder. “I just feel like there must be something wrong with me.”
“Logan,” said Galen quietly, he remembered vividly the night when Kate had told him about her first husband, how he used to abuse her and beat her to keep her in line. As much as it had made him feel sick to hear about the things she’d been through it had also made him feel quite special; it had shown just how much she’d trusted him to be able to tell him things she’d never told another living soul.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said soothingly, his arms tightening around Kate’s back. “I don’t know why this happened but I do know that it has nothing to do with what Logan used to do to you.” He leaned into her embrace, nuzzling the side of his face against her soft hair. “And I’m here for you this time, you’re not alone. I’ve got you Kate, I’ve got you and I’m gonna take care of you.”
He drew back gently from their embrace and looked into her eyes, they were shiny with unshed tears. Galen hesitated a moment before leaning forwards and pressing his lips against hers in a warm, comforting kiss.
“You can be as brave and independent as you like when you’re with everyone else,” he said gently as they parted, resting his forehead against Kate’s. “I’ll give you space if that’s what you need. But when we’re together you let me know what’s real okay? None of this stiff upper lip British nonsense that you’re so fond of.”
Kate smiled weakly.
“You can handle this however you like but with me… I want you to be honest.”
“I promise,” she said quietly, looking down into her lap.
Honest.
She hadn’t told any of the officers that had talked to her while at the hospital about Tony’s motives or any of the things he’d said about Majestic and her husband. How could she? They’d either think she was crazy or a liar. But Galen… he needed to know, some of it anyway. Part of her wanted desperately to protect him, she had thought about it constantly on the way home during the unbearable silence. Would keeping Tony’s identity a secret from Galen help him? He was dead now anyway, was there a chance that anything more would come of it, he couldn’t hurt them anymore, but Majestic…
In the end she didn’t know what to think, if she could be sure that this was the end of it then she could hold her silence and feel happy that her husband never needed to know WHY this terrible thing had happened. But the truth was she wasn’t sure, not where Majestic was concerned. And more than that, maybe selfishly she needed him to know, she didn’t want to keep it a secret from him, she was so tired of secrets and lies even when they were for the best. She wanted to be honest and truthful and if she couldn’t be that with Galen, the man she loved and had vowed to spend her life with then there was no hope for her.
“Galen… there’s something I need to tell you,” she said hesitantly, “something about what happened tonight-“
Suddenly the front door opened and Jack walked inside. Seeing his daughter and son-in-law sat on the stairs together he grimaced slightly, looking sheepish for interrupting them.
“I got your call,” he said to Galen as he closed the door behind himself and moved towards his daughter. “How are you?” he asked Kate softly, his eyes full of fatherly concern.
Kate glanced at her husband in annoyance. She hadn’t wanted Jack to know about all this, it made her feel ill with shame to think that he had those images of herself in his head. “I’m okay,” she said quickly, slipping free of Galen’s arms as she rose to her feet.
“Actually, I think I’ll go run that bath myself,” said Kate before turning and hastily disappearing up the stairs.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Thursday, July 19 2007 – 12:00 Midnight
Near Caesar Chavez Avenue
Guest-Starring Brenda Song as Joy Law
and introducing Ryan Carnes as Rhymer
***
“Happy Birthday to you…” the blond boy began to chirp.
“Stop it,” Joy laughed.
“Happy Birthday to you…”
Joy kissed the boy on the cheek, effectively halting his song. “Are you, like, wasted?” she asked him playfully.
“No—I’m high. High on life and the company of a beautiful lady…”
“Puh-lease,” Joy groaned in mock disgust as Rhymer threw his arm around her shoulder.
Joy Law’s birthday party at the restaurant had wrapped up around 10:30, and afterwards her friends took her out to a dance club to shake her 18-year-old booty into the night. It was just the lift she needed, for despite the love that surrounded her she always felt a little depressed on special occasions. It was her luck then that she ran into Rhymer, professional party person and her brother’s best friend. Hanging out with him made her feel a little closer to her lost brother, and vice versa. Rhymer missed Benji greatly, and when it came time for Joy to go home, he insisted that he walk her back to her house. It was a personal favor for his absent pal.
“Tell me,” Rhymer asked Joy after a long moment of silence, “Did you enjoy your birthday?”
Joy shrugged. “It was fun. I had a good time. But…I thought about Benji.”
“Enough said,” Rhymer sighed. “I know the feeling exactly. It’s like, sometimes I’m having a freaking awesome time. I’ll be dancing or just listening to music, or whatever, and I might not even have ecstasy. But then, I don’t know. I’ll just start thinking about Benji and how he isn’t here to dance and enjoy and rave and screw. And I miss him.”
Without missing a beat, Joy agreed with him. “God. It’s like a routine now. My happiest moments always portend another memory, a sad thought, all about Benji. It’s so strange, all of it.”
“Maybe part of him is still here with us. No matter where he ran off to, he left something behind to remember him by.”
Joy shook her head. “No, Rhymer. I think it’s the other way around. Benji didn’t leave anything behind. When Benji left he took our happiness with him.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean to,” Rhymer guaranteed her innocently.
“You know, tonight I wished him back. I wished that I could find him.”
“You will, Joy. Yeah, and I’ll go clubbing with him and you can come, too. And he’ll have to buy us, like, retroactive gifts for all the birthdays and holidays he’s skipped.” Rhymer laughed, but only a little.
Joy stared into the sky. “I will see him again—”
“Sooner than you think!” Rhymer exclaimed breathlessly.
Down the street, the figure of Joy’s brother Benji stopped dead in his tracks. With a creeping motion he probed his jacket for his eight-ball. His movements became quicker as Joy stepped towards him. Once he pulled the toy out he shook it violently.
“YES,” the ball told him. Yes—the answer to his silent question. Without warning Benji Law turned and ran in the opposite direction.
Joy was in shock. “Benji!” she called. She clutched Rhymer’s arm as she watched her brother fade down the street. “Follow him!” she pleaded, tugging on Rhymer’s coat. But she didn’t have to beg. In a split-second they were charging after their long-lost loved one, not knowing what would come of the chance encounter, like a pair of Alices down a very bizarre rabbit hole.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
~ FLASH FORWARD ~
Sunday, November 11th, 2007 - 01:23am
“Reah, no!”
“Shut up, Quin! I’m not leaving you a choice in this.”
Fear struck eyes quivered up to her master, his cold, white irises fixed steely on Reah, her God blessed yet utterly foolish cousin who she loved ever so much and always would for all her efforts she’d tried in providing Quin with a happy, healthy, normal life. Unfortunately she didn’t realise just how doomed Quin was and would be for the rest of her life, no matter what she did.
“Reah, I’m not-”
“I said SHUT UP Quin.” Reah’s own gaze briefly wavered back over her cousin, pain stricken, before returning to the creep that ruined their whole family’s lives for countless generations she couldn’t begin to imagine. “Whatever you think of yourself isn’t true, so you can forget telling me otherwise.”
“Reanna’s right Quinala.” His smarmy voice set Reah’s skin crawling every time he spoke, filling her with the greatest need to wash her skin till blood shed freely. The devil’s gaze swept off Reah over Quin, his head lowering as he drew her closer, absorbing the sweet scent of her neck with one hand trailing her jaw line, the other running down her centre waistline to grasp between her thighs. Quin shivered defencelessly under his hold, shuddering as he hoarsely whispered in her ear, “You’re worth everything to me and more.”
“GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER, YOU ROTTEN BASTARD!” Reah charged down the street only to smash into an invisible wall, her nose crunching with a sharp crack that knocked her back to the ground.
“Fool! You think you can stop me?” The sharp eyed devil threw back his head in laughter. “I’m older than you can imagine. My power comes from a source you can never touch.” His wicked grin widened, sharp, cunning teeth flashing through the night.
BANG
A shotgun blast seared through the night air, catching the demon right in the shoulder throwing him off, releasing Quin to stumble from his clutches.
“No?” Three pairs of eyes shot up to the latest arrival, Reah smiling gleefully at Jason, her other cousin. Quin’s eldest brother. “Well lets see if we can’t try, eh Balthas?” Reloading, J shot again and again, firing the demon in the chest and ribs.
Balthas reeled with each blow, his face a mask of twisted anger, but he didn’t fall, instead roared out, seizing air with his upward thrust hand. “ENOUGH!” Blood red eyes shot open and balefully sought out Jason. The demon’s human hand suddenly taloned as he struck it out toward its target. Jason’s scream could be heard as both hand and gun crumpled beneath some unseen force before he was then thrown hurtling into a shopfront’s window, shattering to a million pieces. Quin screamed, Reah tried running to help but found her knees bound to the ground, she couldn’t get up.
Venomous eyes turned dangerously on her enemy, when Reah spoke, her voice was so low and guttural it was almost as demonic as the devil’s own. “You’re gonna wish you hadn’t done that, spirit.” The last word spat from her mouth.
Balthas sniggered. “I’m not the one who makes the wishes here, girl. She is bound to me,” He said, thrusting a finger at Quin’s snivelling form on the ground, his features human once more. Or at least as human as a devil could be. “Just as you are, even if you are too blind of a fool to realise it.” His grin flashed knowingly once more as his wicked eyes delved right into Reah’s. “But then, I suppose your parents were. Should have guessed it would run in the family.”
Whatever strand of restrained sanity Reah had left had just snapped….
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
~ FLASHBACK ~
Monday, July 16th, 2007 - 22:44
Clearing his throat, Franky strategically strolled in closer to Quin, his inner arm hovering out to loop over her shoulders as he did. “So… er… Quin! Good movie, eh?”
Quin shivered compulsively when his arm touched down on her skin. “Um… yeah. Great movie.”
An elderly couple with canes leapfrogged over one another’s backs down the street singing some song about depends, distracting the young pair for a moment while they walked before Franky cleared his throat once more. Quin rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to be here.
“The stars look good tonight, don’t they?”
Quin peered up to what Franky had commented and frowned. “Um… yes! Between all the smog and light pollution they’re positively stunning!” Franky laughed at her outward sarcasm. Apparently she was being jestful and funny without realising it.
“You’re an odd one, Quin.” He grinned, then stopped their steady pace, turning to face her, “That’s why I like you.”
Quin swallowed hard. “Like me, you say?”
“Yeah,” A boyish smirk crept across his face. “Like you….”
“Ah, you know Franky, I had a really great night,” Quin panicked slightly, irksome feelings taking hold as she looked eagerly about for an escape. “Reah must be starting to wonder where I am. I best….”
“Aw, c’mon…” He toyed around with her, playfully swinging their arms, “You best what?”
Quin swallowed again as he slowly, yet decidedly led her backwards down the side ally running between two coffee shops that had closed business for the night. “I should really get home. Reah has a tendency to worry about me.”
“But if she knows you’re with me…” A glimmer of his throbbing desire shone bright in his eye, “You don’t need to worry.” Once they were both completely drawn out of the public eye and ear shot, Franky leant in to make his move. Quin reeled back against the wall, subtly trying to fend him off while steadily breathing out. His breath smelt horrendously of buttered popcorn and apple lollipops.
“You know,” Quin slipped under his arms and out of pursed lips way when her subtle hints apparently weren’t going to be good enough. “I don’t think this is such a good idea. I like you and all, it’s just….”
Franky frowned, straightening to look at her in confusion and slight annoyance. “Just what? I’m just not good enough for you!”
“No! I didn’t say….” Quin sighed, fingering her forehead. “There’s someone else, I’m sorry.” She opened her eyes to see his expression hadn’t changed much, only now his mouth pursed with unspoken questions he just couldn’t manage to volume.
Quin smiled sympathetically at him, cupping his face with her hand before turning her back to wonder out onto the street again, alone….
Soft piano keys started playing in the air, alternating chords as she strode silently along, left with nothing but her thoughts.
“Don't be confused by
my apparent lack of ceremony,
my mind is clear.
I may be low or miles
high off in the distance,
I want you near.”
Cole smiled in her minds eye, lifting her spirits as she raised her chin, warm fuzzy feelings consuming her being, the cool wind kissing her face as she sang her confession….
“I love you
even when I'm sleeping.
when I close my eyes you're everywhere.”
Her eyes opened up to gaze at the city night sky. A bright star shone in the distance that she willingly followed….
“And if they take me flying
on the magic carpet, see me wave.
If our communication fails
I'll reconnect it, I want to rave.
I love you
even when I'm sleeping.
when I close my eyes you're everywhere.
No matter where the road
is leading us remember,
don't be afraid.
There’s now an ocean
that’s come to be between us,
but that's ok.
I love you
even when I'm sleeping,
when i close my eyes, you're everywhere.
When I close my eyes, you're everywhere.
Oh, don't be afraid, don't be afraid.
Oh, don't be afraid, don't be afraid.
Oh, don't be afraid, don't be afraid.
Ohh….”
Content washed over her as she closed her mind off to the world and let herself drift, leaning back on the wooden park bench to gaze up at her single star in the sky. She wished Cole were there with her….
“Don’t be afraid, eh?”
Quin jumped, the peace she’d found melted as Franky suddenly jumped upon her, viciously gripping her arm and ripping her off the bench.
…
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
… 23:21
Sniffling and sprinting fearfully through the darkened streets, Quin huddled deeper into her torn cloak. Wiping salty tears from her face with the dark navy velvet clutched tight in her hand, Quin darted a quick glance over her shoulder before turning down a narrow passageway she’d never travelled before, but knew was safe.
Dropping down beside a rickety crate hidden from view, Quin lowered and pulled back her cloak to inspect the damage of her leg. The skirt had a considerable hole ripped from the waistband down her right side, but the only mark remaining on her leg from the gash she’d received was an angry red welt that had already healed over. Raising hands to her face she inspected the long manicured nails. Bits of shredded flesh still remained beneath them and after moments of long refusal to believe what had happened, she broke down.
She could still see him… hear him… smell him… feel him… taste him….
Good God…. What had she done!
Quin let out a long wail she’d meant to hold in for so long. She wanted to turn back time, change everything, end everything if she could, but the last she knew she couldn’t. She had become so totally consumed in her denial, however, that Quin hadn’t noticed the arrival of a tall, shadowy figure.
“Dearest Quinala,” They softly tsked, “What have you done.”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Sunday, 22nd July 2007 – 5:20am
South Grand Avenue, Los Angeles
Dawn was coming.
The lightening sky to the east was beginning to wash out the bright pinpoints of radiance that blazed through the windows of downtown Los Angeles. Abandoning the shiny red Viper on the street, Tash knew she had scant minutes to find some shelter from the approaching day. Her eyes fell on a heavy concrete manhole cover nearby and she took an automatic step towards it.
Then she stopped and shook her head vehemently. Not for her the dank mustiness of an underground hole, hiding like a rat from the light. She deserved better than that. Despite her resolve, her skin still crawled and prickled with the sense of how soon those hateful rays would advance over the horizon. Whatever her refuge, she had to find it fast.
A slow smile spread across her features as she gazed upward at the building before which she stood. The imposing archway flanked by Greek columns receded back from the pavement to where the word Biltmore was emblazoned across the portal. She tilted her chin up and strode right inside. Reaching the bank of elevators, she sighed in relief as the heavy doors closed behind her. No glimmer of sunlight could possibly touch her here. Circling her finger around, she stabbed at the panel on the wall then leant back as the lift took her to the floor she’d chosen.
With a melodic tching the lift stopped at the eighth floor and Tash stepped into the hallway. Her mind opened out to its fullest as she walked deliberately past the rows of closed doors. Even at this early hour, someone must be awake. Tash stopped, her head swivelling to the door beside her. In there – a woman was in the bathroom, having woken up with a full bladder. Perfect.
Timing her approach, Tash rapped upon the door mere moments after the toilet flushed. She could feel the woman’s hesitation and uncertainty. Knocking again, a trifle louder, Tash spoke. “Room service.”
Steps shuffled on the carpet inside and the handle turned. A bleary-eyed face appeared in the crack of the door, a puzzled frown creasing the woman’s features. “I’m sorry, we didn’t order room service.”
The door began to close again, but Tash shot out an arm and thrust the door open. The woman stumbled back with a grunt. Dirty blonde curls hung down the side of her face and her frown changed from puzzled to angry at this intrusion. She drew herself upright and glared at Tash who had entered and shut the door quietly behind her.
“Now look here,” the woman began, but got no further. After a few moments, the door opened once more and a dark-skinned hand placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside doorknob.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Thursday, July 19 2007 – 12:20 AM
A warehouse near Caesar Chavez Avenue
“What the Hell am I doing?” Benji asked himself as he dashed for the warehouse. “That was…my sister back there! My sister…” The thought hammered through his brain. How long had it been since he’d seen anyone from his mortal life? Los Angeles was a big city, after all.
“An unfortunate coincidence,” he told himself, both out loud and in his mind.
Benji pushed the double doors open urgently, catching his cronies in mid-meal. Walt sat high upon some piled crates and looked towards the door while still in full vamp-face. “Hey Benj,” he greeted in an intoxicated slur. “You didn’t find anyone to your liking?”
Julia pulled herself away from her own victim. “Benji, I thought you were going to bring your prey back here…we were going to have a family meal!” She sounded a little disappointed, even hurt.
“Yeah, well it looks like you started without me anyway,” Benji retorted. At this comment Julia wiped the blood away from her lips in sudden shame. “And besides, I’ve suddenly lost whatever appetite I may have had--”
“What’s that?” Walt snarled. He leaped down from the crates, leaving his middle-aged female victim bleeding over the boxes. “Heard a sound. Someone’s approachin--”
“Two someones,” Julia corrected him. “You hear ‘em, Benji…?” The older vampire remained silent. “Oh…of course you do,” Julia whispered.
Outside, Joy and Rhymer jogged down the side-street even as it grew darker. “He went down this way!” Joy gasped. “He’s gotten so far, so…fast…when did he start running so fast?”
Rhymer chimed in, even as he panted for air. “Are you sure it was him? I mean, how can we be sure?”
“It was him,” Joy assured the boy. “I’d know my brother anywhere!” The couple turned a corner in time to see the warehouse doors swing, and at that moment the pair stopped running.
“Okay…so he’s in there, Joy,” Rhymer declared, catching his breath. “For whatever reason, Benji’s in there.” His head was spinning by this point. Could it really be Benji Law? “I’ll…I’ll go in first…”
“No. I am,” joy insisted. She didn’t know how to proceed. “Just give me a second.” With a hand clapped over her mouth and on the brink of tears, Joy stood in the street and waited for some force to move her to the door.
Inside, the trio sat in waiting. “They stopped!” Julia notified the others in a strangely loud whisper.
“Get ready to welcome them to our dinner party,” Walt grinned as he dropped into hiding.
A dark look crossed Benji’s face. “Prepare yourselves,” he commanded. As he faded into shadows, he knew that he was telling himself more than anyone else. “Get ready…”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
The door creaked open, letting street light pour in, and Joy Law pushed her way inside the large building. Rhymer followed closely behind her, eyes darting towards the middle of the warehouse. Joy looked up at the overhanging fixtures that lit the center of the room, and slowly stepped towards the light. Before she was done walking a pair of dark creatures descended on her and her friend. Walt dropped upon Rhymer seemingly from nowhere and grasped his arms tightly. Rhymer yelled in mixed anger, shock, and fear as Walt wrenched his arms behind him and hurled him to the floor. Julia was much gentler with the struggling Joy, and held her back without the harmful trip to the ground.
“What the Hell?!” Rhymer roared. Walt pressed onto his back and bared his fangs, eagerly preparing for to kill. Joy shrieked when she saw this, and understandably so. With her adrenaline pumping she kicked harder against Julia’s grip.
Suddenly, Benji emerged from the darkness, a cold stare in his eyes. “Enough!” he instructed his crew. “Let him up and her go.” He impassively brushed some warehouse dust from his shirt and approached the group.
His vampire students were naturally stunned by this. Julia immediately shoved Joy away from her and raised her hands in the air, a show of respect for Benji’s orders. Walt protested, but surprisingly less than usual. “They are ripe, though…” he tried to explain as he hoisted Rhymer from the cold concrete.
“Leave us now.” Benji waved his hand to Julia and Walt. “Get someone else to eat or go back to YH. Take your pick.”
“They…they could be hunters!” Julia warned with a paranoid look.
Benji turned to her. “You don’t think I can handle a couple of hunters, Julia?” Julia stepped back. A moment later she and Walt trudged back to Youth Hostile to await Benji’s return.
Rhymer watched the pair stomp off. The he staggered against a packing crate as Joy rushed to his side. Benji paced slowly under the light. He looked as if he was going to speak, but Joy beat him to it.
“Benji…? It’s been so long.” This was all she said for a moment, but Benji was silent to let her continue. “Where have you been?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Apparently with these, uh, ‘people’,” Rhymer interjected uneasily.
“We’ll get to that in a minute, Rhymer,” Joy said as she held back a tear. “Look, Benji, I just want to know what happened—why did you leave? Have you been in LA all these months? Why didn’t you come to me at least? Out of everyone in our family you should have known I’d understand…whatever it is you’re going through…”
Benji nervously scratched his jacket pocket, the one in which he kept his eight-ball. “Joy…I…” He couldn’t finish.
“You don’t even know what to say,” Rhymer said, shaking his head in sad disappointment.
“Well--and I think this goes without saying—I’ve gone through some big changes,” Benji snapped back at Rhymer.
Joy cocked her head and placed a hand on her hip. Her fatigued shock and sadness was beginning to wear off, but not much. “You look like the same o’ Benji to me, big brother!” she said boldly.
“Look closer, little sister.” Benji leaned forward. His eyes gleamed yellow and his fangs extended before Joy’s eyes. “Just look closer.”
Rhymer shouted an obscenity and stumbled backwards when Benji’s face revealed its true demonic nature, but Joy only jumped back a little.
“Benji,” she whispered sadly. She lifted her delicate hand to his face. “Kiang-Si,” she murmured.
“What the Hell is going on?” was Benji’s only thought. “Don’t touch me! RUN!”
“Kiang-Si? Not quite …those are just Chinese legends, Joy. I’m a creature of the night now, Joy…” he announced aloud.
Joy put her hand back on her hip. “Oh, that is so like you, bro. What—isn’t ‘vampire’ melodramatic enough for you?”
Benji began to get more than a little frustrated with his sister’s attitude, just like in the old days. He was becoming embarrassed for even bothering to grant her an explanation. And nothing embarrassed Benji like showing embarrassment. “You don’t seem surprised at what I am, sis. What gives?”
“To tell you the truth it’s inconsequential to me. I’m just glad to see you again, and Mom and Dad will love you no matter what?”
Benji leaped away from her and his face reverted back to its human form. “Wait—no. NO, Joy! I’m not going back to see Mother and Father.”
Joy ran up to Benji and placed a hand on his arm. “You’re here, and I found you. You can come back and at least we can be happy again…please Benji.”
“We’ll be happy again,” came an approaching voice. It was Rhymer. “We’ll be happier when you’re with us.”
“Happy…” Benji repeated. He stared Rhymer in the face and growled. Then, his eyes drifted downward to Rhymer’s lean neck. “One swipe,” Benji began to think, “I bet I could reach out right now and tear his throat out with one swipe…” Then Benji’s attention snapped back to the discussion with sudden realization.
“Dammit, guys! This isn’t that simple!” Benji cursed. “I can’t do what you guys can! I can’t just ‘be happy’! You know why?” Joy was silent, and Rhymer scratched his chin and stared sheepishly at the ceiling.
“Do you know why, Joy? Rhymer?” Benji reiterated. His eyes flashed eagerly to each of them. “Tell me. Go on.” It started off as a challenge. “Why am I not happy? Tell me!”
It was now a plea.
Benji Law drew back from his sister and threw a hand over his eyes.
Rhymer stepped up now. “Benj…Benji I swear we can just start over. Look…I don’t know what this is—how you’re different or why—but if we could just find a way to convince you you’d choose to come with us.”
Choose? Yes—“Choose”. Benji felt for the large plastic orb in his jacket. He slid his fingers over it for a moment before pulling it out into the light. “Rhymer…my best friend…” Turning to face them, Benji now raised the eight-ball to his chest. He spoke in a quieter tone now. “You’ve given me a great opportunity. I will choose.”
“Should have known you wouldn’t be anywhere without one of those. You’ve loved ‘em since you were a tot, Benji…” Joy reminisced.
He took the toy to his lips shook the eight-ball, kissing it lightly. To the eight-ball he whispered. “Should I…?” The rest of the question was unvoiced.
“Doesn’t it piss you off when they don’t say it out loud?” Rhymer said to Joy light-heartedly. “Always made me paranoid, like something was going on that I didn’t—”
A lump rose instinctively in Joy’s throat as she heard a stifled yelp burst from Rhymer’s mouth. Drops of blood sprinkled Joy’s shirt as Rhymer stumbled in place. His eyes gaped helplessly at her, his lips mouthed words he could no longer say. As Rhymer reeled to the floor he finally clutched the large wound ripped into his neck. Joy stared in horror, first at Rhymer’s dying body, then at her own brother.
Standing proudly over his best friend’s body, Benji made no effort to wipe the blood from his quivering hand. He puffed a sigh of relief and looked up from the floor to Joy’s shocked face.
“I knew I could do it,” he grinned devilishly.
***
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Inside Morris' LA Hideout
Morris watched from above as the battle suddenly shifted. He grinned, casting a storm of fireballs upon a group of Brotherhood vampires pinning down his mages on the gallery with their guns. Each one exploded into ashes. This is almost too easy he thought, then instantly regretted it. That was the curse of arrogance, and he would have none of it. But… he could be spared for having a little arrogance. In a few minutes, the Brotherhood’s forces would be crushed, victory would be his, and then he would be free to get the Eye. He continued grinning as he cast another spell of death upon the vampires.
***
Kyle cursed when he saw Robyn move away from him, deeper into Morris’ lines. He glanced around for Chad, and saw him following suit, leading a sort of counter-charge. Two vampires were moving towards him, taking out any of Morris’ vampires in the way, and shouting at him to join them. Kyle sighed, moving in their direction – back the way he came. No sooner had he taken a few feet than he was rushed by three vampires, each launching a dizzying array of martial arts kicks that soon had Kyle on the floor. He rolled onto his side, lashing out with a boot to the groin of one of the vampires in the middle of a side-kick. The combination of fire and pain sent him staggering backwards, and the other two were rushed by the two of Robyn’s vampries that had spurred him on. One of them was dust straight away, overcome by his foe’s skill at arms, but the other held his ground, taking down one of them with a punch-stake combo.
The Koashian leapt to his feet, charging forward to the vampire’s side and blocking a roundhouse kick aimed for the vampire’s head. With his opponent’s guard down, Kyle darted in delivering two solid blows to the face and a right-hook to the stomach. His left hand then shot forward, grabbing the vampire by the neck. It exploded, and Kyle allowed himself a grin. “Where’s your fancy martial arts now?” He muttered.
"Well done." A voice suddenly broke the silence. Kyle turned around to be greeted by yet another vampire, this one carrying a black leather coat that was covered in quite a bit dust and in his hands lay a katana. "But what do you say about stop playing with the chumps" He moved a bit closer as he continued. "and move on to the big boys?"
Kyle’s eyes widened at the sight of the katana. This was not a good idea. He looked around for help, but couldn’t see any coming. “I’d say- wait, am I going to be held accountable for homosexual innuendo?”
" I bet you would want that in your little nancyboy-fantasies." He answered. "But let's cut the small-talk and go to the part where I impale you with my blade, shall we?"
“Better see what he says about that first.” Kyle said, motioning behind Hunter and grinning. Just turn around, he silently urged, that’s it, look away for just a second.
"Nice try, boy." He answered calmly. " But I would have known if anybody was there, before you even begun that sentence. So stop trying to make yourself sound even more of a retard then you already look and let's get to the fun part." With those words he brought up the blade and advanced towards Kyle.
“If you insist…” Kyle muttered, then instead of backing away he leapt forward, shifting his body weight as if to go for a side kick, but instead punching with his right at his foe’s face.
Hunter felt the impact of the blow as it hit him at the chin and staggered a bit. Well, this could actually be fun, he thought as he advanced once more, swinging the blade in a wide arch.
***
Roxana smiled when she saw the red-haired vampiress meeting her charge. This was the Brotherhood’s lieutenant, their force’s commander, she was sure of it. Kill her, and their already shattered morale will collapse Morris whispered in her head. Roxana’s smile grew, and she mentally sent her love to Morris. She twisted and pirouetted through the air, easily avoiding her opponents gun shots coming her way, and came out of her spins bringing her own katana in a downwards arc. Judging from the distance between the two of them and the time she had spent dodging bullets, she should be just in range for a decapitation.
With a clang, her blade met resistance. Her opponent had her own blade, a katana of her own. Roxana’s left eyebrow went up. She began to wonder if every vampire big-shot was arming themselves with katana’s these days.
Robyn saw the sudden shock and surprise in Roxana’s face. With their weapons pressed against each other their faces were close, close enough to feel each other’s breath - if either one was alive. Seizing the initiative, Robyn thrust Roxana’s blade away from her, sending the vampiress back a few steps, then leapt forward, twirling her katana through the air as she brought it down to strike at the midsection. Roxana blocked that, using the momentum to launch her own attack.
And then the fight was really on.
***
Kyle leapt backwards, again, narrowly avoiding the sweeping blade. He ducked away from the backswing, and then dodged to the left as the blade came down again, cursing at his luck that the one rock-hard vampire with a katana was after him. There was no time to dwell on the matter further – he had to act.
Turning his dodge into a twist and spin he lashed out with a foot, and then his tail came round whip-like, aimed right at the face.
With an act of both luck as well as his reflexes, Hunter deflected the swiping tail and staggered back a few feet. It was indeed time to test Morris’ little toy, he deemed. He brought up the hand with the extremely ugly bracelet and muttered a few words: "Cryo incanteum." A jet of blue energy left his hand to strike in the stomach of the fire demon. He gave a scream of pain as it hit him and cold begun spreading through his body. Hunter watched the display with a grin. Niffty little thing, indeed.
Kyle coughed and rolled onto his back, shaking. The force of the strike had caused him to turn back into human form without even realising it and now he was getting very cold very quickly - again. No way was he freezing half to death again. He eyed his attacking vampire very closely, then gave him the finger.
“Screw you.” It was the finger with Cole’s ring on it.
A torrent of fire suddenly blazed forth from Kyle’s hand, obliterating two of Morris’ vampires unfortunate enough to get in the way. Kyle felt the cold melt away from the inferno and started pulling himself back to his feet.
Hunter quickly tried to jump away from the inferno coming his way and with a great deal off luck avoided the fire blast. However his coat didn't. A small pyre begun slowly spreading it's way upwards. *Fuck, shit, bugger* he thought as he tried to remove it, which he did after a while. He turned towards Kyle, his eyes burning with anger just as much as the previous inferno. "That was my favourite bloody coat!" He roared.
“It’ll be your last bloody coat, too.” Kyle muttered, and leaped at Hunter. He changed into demon form mid-air and fell towards the vampire like a comet.
***
Roxana and Robyn duelled amidst the maelstrom of combat, their whirling blades slicing through the air and glinting from the light of Morris’ mage’s magic. Each blow was met by a parry, each counter-attack deftly avoided. Both were scored with numerous flesh wounds that had slipped through their guard, but neither yet had been able to gain the upper hand.
Robyn gritted her teeth, pouring all her superhuman, undead strength and speed into the fight. She was growing desperate. The longer this went on, the more her own vampires were dying and the more their chances of success diminished. Grudgingly, she had to hand it to the Kaoshian – Morris did have a lot of vampires, more than they estimated, in fact. Robyn only hoped the overestimation would not be their downfall.
She whirled and twirled, meeting Morris’ lover blow for blow, cutting down any enemy that came too c lose. Roxana was doing the same, and a large gap was forming around the both of them where vampires of both sides did not dare to come too close. Surely Morris could see them from his vantage point now, if he hadn’t already noticed, which meant it was time for Robyn to act, now.
The vampiress ducked under Roxana’s sweep and back-flipped, landing several feet away. Roxana lunged and Robyn avoided the blow, once more leaping backwards. She was pleased to note the gap around them was following her movements, and her opponent was getting increasingly infuriated. A few more leaps brought both Roxana and Robyn out of the main body of the fighting and close to Robyn’s own firing lines. Rather than follow her again, Roxana held her ground and reached for her gun.
Robyn knew this was it. She was a damned good swordswoman, but that wasn’t her best attribute. Before being sired, Robyn had been a police officer. Even at her young age she had been the fastest draw in her department. Now she had another twenty years of experience and superhuman speed to boot. She was damn quick and had a damn good aim, and she knew it. That didn’t mean the action would be without risk – for a few brief seconds, which for a vampire was plenty – Robyn would leave her guard open.
In a blinding movement quicker than the human eye could follow and what was almost a blur even to Roxana, Robyn’s gun was out of the holster and in her hand. She had fired even before Roxana had properly aimed. In desperation she fired too and saw her shot nearly going wide, but catching Robyn in the arm and spinning her around.
Robyn’s shot, on the other hand, was dead on. Only Roxana’s cat-like reflexes saved her, and the shot took her in the belly as opposed to the heart. Still, no sooner than the bullet had penetrated it exploded, and with a shrieking cry Roxana began to topple to the floor.
Pushing aside the pain in her shoulder, Robyn pressed a hand to her ear-piece. “Take her out!” She yelled, and several of her vampires that had been laying down a barrage of the galleries suddenly switched. For a split second, Roxana continued to fall, then her undead body was riddled with gunfire, lifting her up off the ground and dropping her back again. Under the covering fire Robyn was moving, her katana held ready. The fire slackened and returned to the galleries when Roxana hit the floor, and a few seconds later Robyn was along side her, her weapon cutting down through the air for Roxana’s throat.
Robyn’s blade didn’t meet any resistance. Roxana’s body exploded into dust.
There was a brief pause, then a cry of pain and rage bellowed from the galleries. Robyn looked up to see Morris on his knees crying at the heavens, his arm’s outstretched. Then he began mumbling, and the air grew heavy with static. There was a brief but blinding flash and a clap as if of thunder, and when Robyn’s sight returned Morris was gone, leaving only the acrid stentch of sulphur and his minions behind him.
Robyn looked at the melee. Chad, the Koashian and a large number of her vampires were still fighting; the brief respite that had come with Morris’ teleportation spell now ended. The vampires on the gallery seemed bewildered by their leader’s departure, and even those in the combat seemed to have lost enthusiasm. Raising her katana, Robyn’s fire support units leapt to their feet and rushed to her side. She had turned the tide. Now all she had to do was win the battle.
With a predatory roar, Robyn led the charge.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Hunter barely paid any attention to the scene that had just played out as he averted Kyle's charge. With his mind entirely on the battle, he advanced his blade in a wide arch towards the Kaoshian's head.
Kyle ducked once more in the nick of time, twisting under the sweeping blade, but his foot was wrenched painfully and he let out a yelp, staggering.
Somebody stumbled into him. The somebody quickly stepped away from his fire. He looked up at the face in shock as the face returned the same look.
“Hey-“ Kyle began, but then John Walker was already running away. “Hey!” The Kaoshian demon yelled again, frustrated that the vampire was actually running.
“Got him!” Shouted Chad, moving swiftly past Kyle. “Watch your own back!”
Turning, Kyle pushed aside the pain and saw his katana-welding adversary advance on him again. “Ah, crap.”
As Hunter was about to lower the blade, his vampiric smelling scent got caught of a smell that belonged to neither of the combatants. And this one came from behind him. He turned around to be greeted by one of the Brotherhood's grunts carrying a gun in his hand, which was aiming in the direction of his back. Before he had time to pull the trigger, Hunter brought the blade away from it's sweep towards Kyle and severed his head from it's place on his body. "Stay the fuck out off this." he muttered at the newly created pile off ashes. Forgetting briefly about his other assailant.
Kyle didn’t waste a second. As soon as his opponent had his back turned the demon leaped on him, wrapping his arms, feet and tail around the vampire’s body. “How do you like them apples?” He sneered through clenched teeth in the vampire’s ear, watching as his hair started to smoulder. In a few moments the fire would catch, and Mr. English Katana-Wielding Vampire would be dust.
Hunter cursed about every swearword he had learned during his 108-year old life as he were trapped in the grip of the Kaoshian and his nostrils caught scent of the building up fire. As he desperatly went hrough his mind to come up with a plan of how to break free, his eyes locked on the small bracelet on his arm and the demon's tail which was wrapped around his legs and just within reach from his hand. He grinned as he said: "I prefer something cooler...." then he quickly grabbed the tail and muttered the incantation to activate the spell. A cold currency flowed through Kyle's body as he dropped his hold of Hunter's body with a yelp of pain. Hunter staggered to his feet and looked at the demon. *Bugger this*, he thought as he turned away from him. Screw this whole thing. Morris had allready left the scene and Hunter had no longer any use for him nor his goddamn vendetta. All that mattered was the Eye, nothing else. Not the fire demon, not Morris, not the Brotherhood, not any of this crap. He gave one last look at the demon as he staggered to his feet, then turned away towards the library and his payment.
From his paralysed position on the floor, Kyle watched the vampire quickly withdraw through squinting eyes and clenched teeth. He hissed his rage but focused instead on getting warmer, and wisely let the vampire walk. Next time, he promised himself, next time I’ll catch you without the fancy gear…
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
In another part of Morris' LA Hideout
At the same time
Chad moved with all his supernatural speed, chasing John Walker into the factory offices. He knew the other vampire by sight. The Brotherhood had been aware of Walker and Morris’ alliance for sometime now, and Chad and he had unsettled business.
The vampire skidded round a corner. And now I’m going to finish it, he thought as he saw Walker stood facing him, his hands behind his back. Just like that night in Washington, when he had caught Walker after following him since he left the East Coast. He remembered that night well and bitterly. By biding his time, waiting for Walker strike first and make a mistake he had let his quarry get away. Not this time.
“Hm. Should’ve known you’d be in on this.” Walker said.
“Well, you know me.” Chad replied, steadily advancing. He wasn’t going to let the slippery vampire out of arm’s reach.
“I do. Its why I know I’m going to walk away from here, and you’re not.”
Chad opened his mouth to rebuke, but the other vampire brought his hands from behind his back with lightning speed. All Chad caught was an image of a chain with a large hook almost as big as his head swinging towards him, and then pain and darkness consumed him.
His sight suddenly returned, patchy and blurry, and he looked up to see Walker standing over him – when had he hit the floor? – looping the chain over a pipe hanging from the roof. Chad’s head felt like his brain was pouring out the side and more than once he grimaced and shut his eyes against the overwhelming pain. When Walker began wrapping the chain around his neck he could only moan in protest.
Walker pulled on one end of the chain, and Chad was ruthlessly yanked up, hanging by his neck. Leaning in close, Walker made sure he had the vampire’s attention. “I told you so.” Then Walker gave a sudden pull, and the chain constricted.
Chad’s head was ash before it hit the floor and the rest of his body wasn’t far behind. Walker was already moving off.
***
Kyle looked around, grabbing a breather, and climbing to his feat. The effects of the cold spell had worn off. Morris’ vampires were in retreat or quickly outnumbered. He didn’t know how, but they had done it. And there he had been thinking they would probably get their butts handed to them! *Hah, that’d teach that British bastard and his pet coward.*
Both British bastards in fact. If he didn’t know better, he’d bet everything he had (about five bucks) that his katana-weilding opponent had come from merrry old England, too. The accent was a big give-away. What is it with these British bad guys? He thought distractedly as the fight began to wind down.
A small group of vampires were putting up pretty much the last fight, but then at last they broke and fled. Kyle took two steps into a run after them but his flight was brought to a sudden halt by a clamp latching down on his shoulder. His momentum nearly made him fall on his ass.
“Stay here.” The owner of the clamp – an arm in fact – commanded, thrusting him away. Kyle looked round in time to see Robyn before she sped in pursuit.
“Sir. Yes, sir.” Kyle mumbled, giving a mock salute with one hand and reaching for his cigarettes with the other. He brought one to his mouth and went to light it when he caught sight of Hayden looking at him. “What are you looking at?”
Hayden just shook his head.
***
John Walker dashed past the Library, but stopped a few feet past and turned back. He peered in to find Morris furiously looking through the books. “What are you doing? Let’s go!”
“No!” Morris yelled, turning on him furiously. “I can’t stop now, I’m too close! Too close!” The vampire repeated, turning his back and tossing the book held in one hand away whilst picking up another with the right.
Sighing, Walker stepped in to the room and up to the elder vampire. When Morris showed no signs of noticing him, he grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around. Morris’ face was deathly pale even for a vampire and his eyes were wide and bloodshot. “Listen to me! We’ve lost this one. Without you, your minions are fleeing! We need to get out of here and regroup – c’mon!” Walker pulled, but Morris refused to budge.
“Get away from me!” Morris spat, hurling Walker away. The vampire hit a chest of books and collapsed, the chest toppling over him and books fluttering everywhere. Morris approached slowly, hearing Walker’s groans under the bookcase. With one hand and a whispered command, Morris tossed the chest to one side and it shattered against a wall. He picked Walker up by the neck and held him so his feet dangled in the air. “Nobody will stop me finding the Eye. Not you, not the Brotherhood, not even those damned white-hats.” His voice was shaky; his wild eyes the look of a madman. “Nobody.” Morris looked at the ruined bookcase and held out his other hand. With another word of power, a splinter of wood flew out of the wreckage and into his open palm. He wasted no time in dusting Walker.
Morris turned away and brushed the dust of his hands. “Nobody…” He whispered, then moved back to his books.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Thursday, 19th July,
5:40am
Inside Morris' LA Hideout
Kyle was standing amidst the debris of the fight in warehouse. There was a thin coating of dust across the floor, a large number of bullet casings and several scorch marks. Robyn’s vampires were still clearing up. Most of them had already taken off. Kyle didn’t know what happened to them, they just vanished after the battle had ended. The rest were removing Morris’ books and items and storing them in several black vans that had just turned up. Of course there were no bodies to remove. Kyle, forgotten for the moment, was left unnoticed.
The Koashian looked up to see Robyn walking across the warehouse towards him. Kyle cursed the vampire traits that allowed her to get so close without him noticing.
“Here,” Robyn said, handing him a piece of paper with a number scrawled on it. “You ever hear of anything related to Morris, call this number.”
Kyle smiled. “Just Morris?”
Hayden’s mouth dropped. “Dude! I know she’s hot, but she’s a vampire!”
If Robyn had been alive, Kyle reckoned she would have blushed. Instead, she just frowned. “Just Morris.” She said with some conviction.
Kyle shrugged. “Sure. I hear anything to do with him, I’ll give you a call.”
“I appreciate that, Koashian.” Robyn made to move, but Kyle stopped her.
“Hey, wait!” He called. “You never said who your master was.”
The vampiress stopped, and looked over her shoulder at him. “You’re right, and for aiding us today I imagine he owes you a small debt of gratitude as well. Besides, by the time you are in a position to tell anybody of importance, we will be long gone…Very well, Kaoshian. You have the thanks of Valerian, my master.”
Kyle looked up, frowning at the mention of the name because it rang a bell in his head, but he couldn’t place it. He looked to Hayden who was equally stumped. When he looked back at Robyn, however, she was gone. The warehouse, he guessed, was empty of everybody but himself.
“Damn vampires.” He muttered, lighting a cigarette. “Hate it when they do that.”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Saturday 21st July
12:13am
Lone Peak Psychiatric Clinic
Morris was a wreck of his former self. The strain had cracked finally him. Roxana’s death had shattered him completely.
He writhed in pain, face awash with tears, his voice crying out into the darkness and shadows that enveloped him.
He had lost his army. He had lost all hope of finding the Eye of St. Vigeous. He had lost his love.
There was nothing for him now. Nothing.
In the consuming shadow Morris yelled out for direction, for purpose, for love. His cries echoed through the empty corridors and lonely cells.
The darkness heard his call and took him in. It was loving. Soothing. The shadows whispered to him, and soon Morris’ tears were gone. Soon he had even stopped rocking back and forth, sobbing pitifully.
Morris was done crying. He was done with pity and remorse.
The vampire rose and turned. From the shadows emerged a silhouette, and the silhouette became a woman.
Morris crossed to her, grinning the wide grin of a madman. “I knew you would come. I knew it.”
“I will always be here, my love.” She whispered. “I will always be here for you. Nothing will stop that.”
“I thought I had lost you-“ Morris began.
“Hush.” She cooed, cutting him off. “Hush now, my love. There is no time for that.” Stepping closer to him she stroked his face with her hand. “There’s something I want you to do for me.”
“Anything.”
Then she told him. And when she was done, Morris grinned even wider.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Thursday, July 19 2007 – 12:35 AM
A warehouse near Caesar Chavez Avenue
Joy attempted to run to Rhymer’s body but Benji casually stepped in front of her. From his clean hand he dropped the “magic” eight-ball, which rolled across the floor and next to Rhymer’s head.
“Benji,” Joy stammered, “What did you do?”
“What do you think I did, Joy? I chose. As arbitrary as this all is, I really needed to make up my mind with some finality. Now I have.”
“And you think that that toy can delay your next relapse of sanity?” she asked. “Benji, you need help! I can find a way to change you back, change everything back.” Joy suddenly had the wildest look in her eyes, not uncommon for someone in shock.
“I am beyond help, sister,” Benji replied matter-of-factly.
“So what now?” Joy asked him angrily. “Are you gonna kill me too?”
“No—that was not the decision I made. But, just for the sake of suspense, let me offer you a chance, Joy.” Benji turned his head and sneered in the direction of Rhymer. “You could end up like our boy Rhymer here, if that’s what you’re getting at. Or you could walk away.”
“Benji, I can’t walk away from you, not now that I’ve found—”
Benji looked at his younger sister sternly. “Joy—leave Los Angeles.”
“I can’t!”
“Walk away!” Benji exploded. “Walk now and you get to live...”
“How far?” Joy spat out, choking back a sob. Her eyes widened—she was appalled at her own stubborn willingness to live. “Where am I supposed to go?”
Benji’s mind raced. Where could he send her so that he’d never have to see his sister again?
“Kaoloon,” he told her finally. “Go to Kaoloon. Take Mother and Father, and anyone whose lives you value. Stay there.”
“Kaoloon…China. That’s in China, Benji!”
Benji sighed in acknowledgment. “Grandfather’s farm,” he reminded her.
“Why, Benji? Why?” Joy gasped exhaustedly.
“I’ve yet to sort that out, sis.” He shrugged with a grim look. “By all rights and natural order I should have done to you what I did to—”
Joy looked sadly at Rhymer. “He needs help,” Joy choked. Her brother gave her a threatening look.
“You can call an ambulance—Hell, he might even be still kicking when they get here—but you have to leave now.”
Joy backed away, then turned and ran for the double doors. When she reached the metal handle bar on the right door, she turned back one last time. She looked at her older brother with frenzied determination. “I’ll be back,” she told him before rushing to the pay phone down the street.
Benji stepped over to Rhymer and dropped to his haunches. “She’s quick,” Benji assured Rhymer. He tilted his head and stared at his long-time friend. “I’m sorry it had to happen that way,” Benji said honestly. “I really am. It wasn’t fair to surprise you like that—I would have preferred you to go down fighting. But it was the only way, see. This is going to sound sick, but I sort of didn’t want to eat my sister. Crazy, huh?”
Rhymer’s eyes stared up at Benji, trembling. He was unable to speak, but Benji continued anyway. “Yeah. It’s a crazy world.” He patted Rhymer on the shoulder firmly. “But you played your part, and I am satisfied. I guess this means I’m ‘grateful’, but you’ll never hear me admit to that…” Just how grateful was he tonight? Rhymer’s eyes turned away from Benji and rolled up towards the ceiling. As Benji Law leaned into his old friend’s wounded neck with fangs extended, he hoped that Walt and Julia never learned of his random acts of “mercy”.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Thursday, July 19 2007 – 5:45 AM
Youth Hostile
Guest-starring CCH Pounder as Rose “Black Rosie” Bellwether
The base of the black sky now gave way to a band of crimson and orange peeking over the distant horizon and the top of the Los Angeles skyline. The shadows of the crumbling buildings shielded Benji Law from the dawn’s deadly light, a gentle killer in comparison to the harsh mid-day sun. Benji wiped the remaining blood from his mouth as he walked down the sidewalk to YH. Outside, Walt and Julia sat huddled on the curb.
Benji slowly stopped in front of the front steps and addressed the pair. “Guys…what are you doing?”
“You’re cutting it close, Benji,” Julia said in a mild warning tone.
“I needed some alone time,” he shrugged. After a pause, he motioned to the sidewalk, and then to Walt and Julia. “Did…did you two sit out here all night?” Benji asked them with slight amusement.
“Shee-yeah, bucko. We almost didn’t think you would make it back,” Walt said with a light grunt as he picked himself off the walk. “Were you stalling for dramatic effect or were you planning on sunbathing today?”
“Right. So you stayed here then.” Benji acknowledged casually. “Just to be clear…”
“What can we say,” Walt smirked, “we’re whipped.” Julia smiled. She knew it was true, at least in her case.
“We weren’t here the whole time, though,” Julia soon corrected. “We were in talking to Rosie a bit…she still might be up in her room if you want to see her.”
The older vampire snickered. “Now why would I want to talk to her? What would we talk about?”
Julia sighed awkwardly. “I dunno. You seem kinda stressed. It might make you feel better.” There was a long silence afterwards. She couldn’t stand long, uncomfortable silences. “So—did ya eat ‘em?” Julia asked Benji eagerly.
Benji started up the steps to Youth Hostile. “Not that its any of your business, Julia, but yeah. All gone.”
“At least someone had a decent meal,” Walt grumbled as he followed the others inside.
Within Youth Hostile about a dozen vampires were either trampling up the stairs to their respective quarters or to the ironically-named living room. Julia stopped by the kitchen to see if they had any victims in storage while Walt lingered at the bottom of the roughly-carpeted staircase.
“You going to the room?” he asked Benji restlessly.
“I don’t know. I’ve had a very rough night, Walt. You going up?”
Walt shrugged. “Yeah, but I’ve got a new room lined up—you and Julia can share. Heh…” He punched Benji playfully in the arm. “So spill already. What about those kids got you so worked up?”
Benji shoved past him and ascended the staircase. “Don’t want to talk about it.” He heard steady footsteps creaking up behind him.
“Hey man, whatever. I just thought we could pass the time, talk. But you know…whatever.” He scratched the back of his head. “That’s your deal, man, and you take care of it as you see fit.” He rolled his eyes, backed into his newly-claimed room, and closed the door firmly.
Benji stirred outside the door for a few seconds, and then proceeded down to the end of the hall. He lifted his hands to the door but did not knock. He almost tapped a few times, but could not get the strength to do it. Benji turned away from the door, all the time thinking of what Julia said. “Like Hell it would make me feel better. And what is there to feel better about?” he rubbed his eyes and took a few steps, but the swing of the door behind him struck Benji motionless.
“Who are you?” a gravelly yet feminine voice called from the other side of the threshold.
Benji turned his head slightly but did not face the woman. “My name is Benji.”
“Come on in, kid,” the woman offered. “Sit a while.” Benji turned, and some unknown force moved him to oblige.
The room was disappointingly larger than the others Benji had been in, and much more furnished. The velvet curtains had been drawn closed at the far window to prevent the fast-arriving morning light. Benji was actually surprised to see a real glass window—most of the other windows had either no covering at all, like his, or cheap plywood haphazardly nailed over it. Still, the room was disappointingly large.
“The ‘Great Rosie Bellwether’ lives in such luxury,” Benji observed.
“Well, if you dig abject desolation, then you’re damn right it’s luxury.” Rosie heaved an empty sigh as she sunk back into an armchair. It was noticeably the same type as the one in Benji’s room.
With her left foot she kicked a stool over for Benji to sit on, and Benji hesitantly complied. He shed his jacket and dropped it to the floor beside him. The plastic eight-ball thumped on the hardwood floor.
“What’s that?” Rosie asked, lighting up a cigarette.
“Eh, it’s just a toy. Eight-ball.”
Rosie placed the cigarette in her mouth and motioned to him. “Bring it up, son.” Benji rummaged through his coat until he drew the toy out. Blood had dried on the little bubble window. “Looks like its been through Hell,” Rosie commented. Benji set the ball back down and crossed his arms silently.
“Ever see The Matrix?” Benji asked her playfully.
“What?” Rosie asked.
Benji looked around the room, and at Rosie. “When I first got here I thought you were going to say, ‘I'd ask you to sit down, but, you're not going to anyway’. And then you’ll say, ‘You’re cuter than the last one…”
“What?” Rosie asked again.
“Never mind. It’s a movie.”
“Oh. Never heard of it,” Rosie stated. She was totally screwing with him. Of course she saw The Matrix, several dozen times like everyone else. But she didn’t see herself as an Oracle—she was more the “Morpheus” type, in her mind.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
“The others lied listening to your stories,” Benji told her, effectively changing the subject.
“The others—your friends?” Rosie prodded.
“They’re just some vamps I picked up along the way. I wouldn’t say we’re friend, even though we hang out a lot.”
Rosie shook her head and shook the ash from her cigarette. “They do seem pretty fond of you. They were in a little while ago, and they did mention that they were waiting for you.”
“Uh-huh,” Benji replied in a non-committal mumble.
“So what are you waiting for?” she asked him with a wry look.
“What? I’m not waiting for anything—there’s nothing coming up. I’m just…well, here.”
“So, you just exist simply for the sake of existing…?”
Benji snorted. “Yeah, something like that.”
Rosie lifted the cigarette to her lips once again. “A demon without a purpose. How nihilistic.”
“Then what purpose do you serve, lady?” Benji retorted. “You used to be in the Black Veins, and they had a cause. What are you now, huh?”
“I’m alive,” Rosie barked, “and I’m where I’m meant to be.” She took one last puff of smoke and then extinguished the butt on a nearby ashtray. “Let me tell you somethin’ about the Veins, all right?” She laced her fingers. “They’re gone, most of them dead. And I’m alive. So apparently, what I am is a survivor.”
Benji unfolded his arms and placed them on his lap. “Okay, but you still didn’t answer my question: what purpose do you serve in the scheme of things?” he asked her in frustration.
“Just another cog in the machine is all. I’m here to keep the machine running, and see what it’s been running for.”
“But why?” Benji asked her in an exasperated whisper.
Rosie Bellwether laughed coldly. “Way back, not long before I came to L.A., I was with my sire. She left a trail of death and pain wherever she went, and I looked upon her work with wide-eyed wonder. And then she died—staked by the Great Enemy…”
“The Great Enemy? And people say I’m over-dramatic…” Benji interjected.
“Natasha Brookes is her proper name. She runs with the White Hats, a misguided enclave dedicated to the eradication of our kind. She killed my sire without hesitation…and we hated her for it. I’d hoped my sire had a great destiny before her, and the act of one idiot mortal dashed these dreams to dust.” She pounded her fist against the arm of the chair.”
“Yet, the Black Veins lived on, under new management. The Great Enemy slew him, too, but this is not the point. It wasn’t with the Veins for long after she died…I spent months searching for meaning behind her death.”
“Who’s to say there was meaning behind it?” Benji asked.
“Exactly what I thought you’d say!” Rosie cackled. “You little punk. What I found is that though she did have a destiny—her destiny was to die. The act of living is an end in itself, boy. We each live exactly as we’re meant to live—we just don’t know it.”
Benji was silent.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Thursday, 19th July, 2007
EMERGENCY IN LEVEL THREE... SECURITY PERSONNEL PLEASE RESPOND... EMERGENCY IN LEVEL THREE... SECURITY PERSONNEL PLEASE RESPOND...”
The voice over the speakers was calm, simply because it belonged to that of a computerized monitor rather than a human. If it weren’t for the ear splitting tone that was being used to convey the message, one would think that nothing was wrong because the tone of the female voice was actually rather friendly, sort of like a smiling employee who meets a client for the first time. But everyone in the underground facility knew better from experience alone.
John Riker raced down the pure-white colour hallway, followed by two similarly dressed security guards who were several steps behind him. He sharply twisted the right side of his upper body backwards in an effort to avoid a scientist in a lab coat who was blindly rushing away from the direction that the guard was hurrying towards. But he only partially succeeded. The scientist's lowered head slammed into his right shoulder anyway, and the other man continued in his aimless direction as he staggered for two more steps before tripping and falling flat on his face. Sharp pain travelled from Riker's right shoulder to the rest of his torso.
He didn't bother wasting time by screaming from the pain in his upper body or by swearing at the man for delaying him for an extra second during a scene when time was very crucial. But he also knew he couldn't ignore the man who had partially slammed into him, not as a high-ranking security member of Harbingers' strike force. Struggling to maintain his footing, Riker turned his head behind him and to the right to glance at the fallen man. Seeing that the confused scientist didn't have any dark red blood stains on his back, and not remembering having seen any on his front for the instant before they collided, Riker turned back when he noticed that the scientist was still moving, and thus wasn't mortally wounded.
Some of the many medical employees and security staff who were following him would surely tend to anyone who was able to distance him or herself from the source of the emergency. So the ever-diligent guard, he forced himself to not swear out loud due to nearly having his sunglasses knocked off his face, and resumed his rush towards the source of the trouble. Riker didn't take long to find it. Whether that was a good thing or not, he could not guess. But his hunt came to a sudden halt when he covered twenty more steps down the hallway and ran past half a dozen more hysterical employees in white. Knowing where he needed to be, he stopped, turned to his right and reached into his uniform simultaneously with both hands. His right hand withdrew a .50 caliber Desert Eagle pistol while his left one gripped his ID card.
Bending his right elbow and pointing the weapon towards the ceiling, Riker swiped his ID card in the slot available. The massive metal door in front of him gave a friendly acknowledgement of his name and rank and welcomed him into the room. Then the foot-thick door opened sideways and Riker stepped into a scene that was all too familiar in his line of work.
Six scientists were already dead. One lying motionless on his stomach in the middle of a large pool of his own blood. Another was a few steps away with his head and left arm separated from the rest of his body. On one side of the room was a line of vertical glass tubes, each filled with a liquid and housing a different Demonic Hormone inside. Wet footsteps leading from a broken tube could be seen intercepting the first body, then the second and lastly a third scientist who was the only living person in the room besides Riker himself.
That is, the only human was also alive in that room, the demon with its back at him as it concentrated on its third target. The Demon had appeared out of nowhere and caused the havoc facing the security guard who stood at the door. As the last living scientist kept his back in one of the room's corners and was desperately trying to put a metal table between him and the monster, Riker levelled his handgun. He dropped the ID card on the floor and took aim with both hands.
Three rounds shot out of the muzzle of the handgun and struck the demon in the back and between its shoulders, all three entering the tough flesh within a two-inch diameter of each other. The demon's body shook with each bullet that invaded it, but it nevertheless remained on its feet, to the chagrin of both humans who were still breathing. The monster turned away from the scientist and locked eyes with Riker for a short instant before rushing towards the guard himself. The scientist remained frozen in place as he watched his former pursuer dashing towards armed guard instead, not that he had any training to fight against a hugely stronger opponent even if he had not been frozen in a panic.
Riker could see the entire incident unfolding before him in slow motion. The creature closed the distance between itself and him very quickly, but he was quicker with his firearm. He had to be, after all. Four more rounds flew out of the weapon and pierced the monster's massive chest and face.
Bloodied and having been forced to slow down, the injured demon still managed to reach its new human prey and grab at Riker's throat with its right arm. The human let go of the firearm with his left hand while retaining the weapon with his right one only. While two more security guards were heard running behind Riker, they took sight of the impasse between him and the taller, and stronger, adversary. As the monster tried to use its right arm against the newest prey, Riker retained his right grip on the Desert Eagle and swung the weapon in a upward arc, the cold metal crashing into the left side of the demon's head.
The demon gave a crooked grin and plunged its fingertips into the neck of the human and the demon began to feed on his life force, an orange energy began to glow from Riker. He could feel his life slipping away and the demon watched with sick pleasure as the human slowly dissolved into a pile of dust leaving noting but his suet. A bullet struck the demon in the head it turned to see the two security guards firing at him. He merely nodded in the direction of the security guards and their guns flew from their hands to his feet. The demon shook his head and held out his open hand then turned it towards the guards. They were tossed across the room with a massive telekinetic blast which destroyed everything in the blasts path. The security guards bodies lay ahead under a pile on concrete created by the blast. The demon quickly turned around to look at the remaning scientist and made a come-hither motion. The scientist rose from the ground and floated over to where the massive demon was standing. The demon raised his hands and caressed the face of the scientist before snapping his neck.
The demon watched the world shimmer as he quickly shifted out of the land of the living to the land of the dead. Darkness slowly began to surround him as he met with the featureless face of Zhyzhak who spoke, “ I trust you enjoyed your playtime then, Guyout?“
The Demon Guyout smiled and replied, “I have always enjoyed instilling fear into the heart of your enemies my lord, the Harbingers still have no idea how we can randomly appear in several places in a short space of time, but I must ask why must I fight such lowly creatures? Even their greatest is not worthy of myself. “
Zhyzhak's dark tentacles licked at the arms and legs of Guyout. “The Harbingers will now be on the hunt for a demon which matches yourself. It will be great training for the youngest of your brothers."
Guyout looked at Zhyzhak and smiled, “You think he will be able to take on the entire Sect, master?”
A deep booming laughter filled the head of Guyout, “I count on it my eldest. I count on it. “
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Friday, July 19, 2007 in the early morning
Somewhere along Mullholland Drive.
Simon felt like a black and white boy in a technicolor world.
Actually, Simon was a black and white boy in a technicolor world.
Or rather, beside the technicolor world.
Simon held his left hand out at full arm's length in front of his face-- he was indeed a kind of mottled grey against the lurid orange of the city. The haze of the city below him undulated thickly, saturating every pore of the sprawl. It wasn't the smog he was seeing, that kind of thing didn't show up too well this side of the curtain, but the pall of greed and hate and fear that made up the spiritual stuff of Los Angeles was laid bare before him. It roiled and boiled and spurted like a fetid soup lapping at the sides of the mountain, waiting to boil over.
And it absolutely stank of cat piss.
He let his hand drop to his side, turned, began walking down the winding edge of Mullholland-- not that he had any need for roads, but one must enter cities as charged as LA through the proper channels-- and contemplated the irony of an exorcist being exorcised from his own body.
The bastard dibbuk back during the Yom Kippur case in Prague had left something of itself in the gash it made on Simon's belly and waited. The gash was now a seeping open wound. He tried not to pick at it with varying success.
The bastard thing had wormed itself right under the radar and invaded every little subconcious pocket it could find. It fed him despair and loathing, desperation and cholic. He'd flushed himself down the narrow neck of a vodka bottle (read: several vodka bottles), and the dibbuk broke him. It'd slithered into the most secret places of his mind and found his name.
Take the name of an exorcist, and take his body.
Simon flushed with hate, making his steps sure and solid against the wavery stuff of the Underworld. It was near impossible for him to control his emotions anymore. He was, afterall, a ghost, a being composed of emotion and memory. He let the hate course through himself, making him feel more solid and complete. He couldn't quite manage anger, because he was far too pleased with himself. He patted the Dobrynuz at his hip, at least, the echo of his Dobrynuz knife.
Simon was no stranger to the Underworld. He'd walked its avenues countless times, often in the shape of a wolf. His lips curled up into a fiendish grin, and the gash in his abdomen mirrored the motion.
He laughed out loud, confident he had at least one advantage over the little fucker: he knew its name.
Kate comforts Daye
Saturday, July 21st, 2007, 11:00 pm
Daye set the receiver back in its cradle and turned back towards the front door. Kate would be here in a moment. She's promised. Kate would come...and Galen too, and maybe together they could think of what to do next.
*And Marcus,* Daye nodded to herself. She'd called him after hanging up with Kate because...well, what if Tash had meant that parting shot as more than an off hand jibe. Daye had reasoned that Marcus might be in danger if Tash went after Onyx. She just wanted to warn him. That was all. She hadn't wanted anything more from him. She was surprised, but not in any way personally interested in the fact that he had said he was coming right over. There was nothing left between them, but he was a necromancer. Surely, it would be a good idea to have him in on hunting down Tash.
*Hunting Tash,* Daye thought, the very idea making her feel more than a little ill. How could it have come to this?
Daye couldn't keep her gaze from straying to where Drew lay. His eyes were open wide, but glazed in death. A look of horror and surprise etched forever on his features. Suddenly, Daye couldn't stand it, not for a moment longer. She crossed the room and knelt at her husband's side. With trembling hands, she reached out and closed his lids before drawing him onto her lap. She cradled him, barely conscious of the blood she smeared on her clothing as she knelt and held him. Daye's eyes slipped closed and she rocked gently, tears spilling down her face. Without really thinking, she began to chant softly, a soothing prayer for the Goddess to draw her lover's spirit home.
Kate rested her head against the window and closed her eyes as they drove silently through the streets of Los Angeles. Daye’s voice still echoed in her ears, empty and distant. Drew was dead. That news alone had forced Kate’s knees to buckle, to send her sliding to the kitchen floor as she continued to clutch the handset tightly, pressing it against her ear as though it might not be true. But Tash…
Kate couldn’t believe that Tash was dead too.
*Undead…* she reminded herself bleakly, opening her eyes as the car pulled to a stop. Galen climbed out and ran around to her side, opening the door. He took Kate’s hand as he helped her out, she was still stiff from her ordeal two nights ago, and in pain too though she did her best to conceal it. Galen wrapped an arm around her shoulders comfortingly as they entered the hotel, his eyes constantly glancing about his surrounding in case Tash might still be lurking.
The couple were silent as they passed through the lobby, drawing as little attention to themselves as possible. The elevator arrived and they climbed on board.
“This is like a nightmare,” said Kate softly, as they moved up the floors. Her eyelids drooped wearily and she leaned against her husband, grateful for his strength at a time like this. Kate could feel his own turmoil but he held it in control for the moment.
“Tash is a… and Drew… …Nothing is going to be the same again.” She looked up at Galen hopefully with eyes as lost and empty as her voice had been. “What are we going to do?”
Galen was silent. The elevator stopped with a ping and the doors opened.
“I don’t know.”
Daye heard the hotel room door open and she turned her head slightly to see Kate come through with Galen right behind her, his hand on her shoulder offering support and comfort. Moving slowly, cautiously, Daye set Drew's head back down on the floor and struggled to her feet. She felt exhaustion dragging down at her, but she wouldn't give in.
"Kate...Galen...thank you for coming," Daye said as she moved towards them. She had no idea how she looked as she approached her friend, covered in her husband's blood. Her face was streaked with it, and it stained her clothing. Her own blood was on her throat, from where Tash had earlier drunk from her. Daye was pale, and there were tear tracks on her face, but she looked calm as she spoke.
"I...I wasn't sure what to do first," she said softly, gesturing vaguely towards where Drew lay. "I didn't mean to get you involved in this, but..."
Kate faltered at the amount of blood covering her friend, quickly noticing the bite marks on her neck. Her breath caught in her throat, feeling momentarily panicked seeing Drew lay out on the floor, a pool of blood spread around his fatal injury.
“It’s okay,” Kate mumbled uneasily. Her eyes connected with her friend’s and she moved swiftly over to her, wrapping her arms around her trembling body. “Oh… Daye,” she moaned sadly, holding the woman close. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry.”
Daye held herself stiffen in Kate's embrace. She was momentarily sure that she would feel teeth sinking into her throat once again, that it was not only Tash, but everyone she cared about. Daye shook her head to block out the image, but she did not return Kate's embrace. "I...it’s..." Daye turned her head, looking over her friends shoulder at where Galen stood, silently studying the room, a frown on his face. "Tash went out the window," Daye said. "I called you first. I don't...what should we do, Kate?"
"Isn't there something we should be doing?"
Kate was overwhelmed by the image of Tash consoling Daye in the same room that they stood before plunging her fangs into the delicate flesh of her neck. She felt Daye tense up in her embrace, her body turning to stone and so Kate released her, struggling to hold back a dizzying sense of sorrow and rejection that swelled inside of herself. Ever since she’d killed Tony in the way that she did her powers had become much more sensitive to the surrounding world. She didn’t know if her usual barriers had been disrupted or whether she had suddenly become more powerful but there was no denying that the taking of a human life was already starting to change her.
Galen noticed his wife’s hesitance and so he walked over to the broken window, looking out, down - dizzy. “Did you call the police?” he asked, turning back to the two women.
Daye shook her head, glancing at Kate before turning back to Galen. She knew that Kate was just trying to help, but Daye couldn't let her guard down just yet. She had to hold herself together until things were taken care of. Thinking too much about how much she hurt wouldn't do any good. This wasn't the time.
"No...I...I didn't...I...should I have? I mean...I know I have to, I just...I didn't know what to say...or what to do," Daye responded.
"Is it going to be a problem, Galen?" Daye continued. "I mean...I called you first...and...I...uh...I called Marcus too..."
Galen frowned worriedly it always looked suspicious when a survivor called someone other than the police straight away, it was seen as the natural reaction - to try and get help. No one would understand that Daye had called her friends because she had more faith in their abilities to help than the authorities.
“Could be,” he admitted, “I’ll call them now, then we need to get you cleaned up,” he glanced at his wife, “both of you, and decide what you’re going to say.”
Daye nodded. Galen made sense. She needed to clean up, at least a little, before she talked to the police. She glanced worriedly at the door. She hadn't mentioned that Marcus was on his way either.
Daye followed Kate into the bathroom, and let her friend turn on the water. She reached for a couple of washcloths and some soap. As Kate started to clean up some of the blood, Daye's eyes fell upon the few toiletry items that Drew had amassed. She recognized his favorite soap and shampoo, and felt a stab at seeing them sitting on this empty counter in this cold, lifeless hotel bathroom. He should never have been here. If not for her, he never would have been.
Daye drew a deep breath and slid her eyes shut, fighting back the wave of guilt and sorrow rising up inside of her.
Kate’s breath was anxious and rapid as she ran some water in the sink, wringing out one of the washcloths before starting to clean the blood from Daye’s wounded throat. She had barely begun when she was hit with the full force of her friend’s guilt and sadness. Kate drew in a sharp breath, steadying herself against the sink. She was so unused to sensing the feelings of others so keenly, Daye’s pain stole her heart until it felt like her own.
“You… you couldn’t have known this would happen,” she said gently, sitting herself down on the edge of the bathtub. “Daye? …You can’t blame yourself for this, I know that you and Drew have been having problems…” Kate found herself echoing words that Galen had consoled her with just a few days ago. “You’re not to blame for what’s happened.”
Daye shook her head. She opened her eyes and stared at Kate. Her friend's face was a mask of sympathy and caring. Seeing her that way only increased the pain Daye felt inside. "But...it is Kate," Daye replied softly. "You have to see that it is, ultimately, my fault. I don't just mean because of what happened with Marcus, though Goddess knows, that's bad enough, but...Drew was here because of me. He was in this world, a world where vampires sneak in under the guise of friends and rip your throat out..."
Daye's hand came unconsciously to the wounds Tash had left on her. "A world where the people you love, the people you trust, they betray you, sometimes simply because of some twisted virus, and other times because of their own weakness...that's the world I gave to Drew...and that's the world that killed him, Kate. My world. And it's my fault. That is a fact."
Kate shook her head slowly in disagreement. “But he always lived in that world Daye, you only opened his eyes to it. How do you know that if he’d never met you, if he’d continued to live in ignorance he would still be alive now? The things you described still happen, people are still turned into vampires and killed by them - other people just don’t know why it happens. They see their loved ones change and have no explanation for it.”
Kate’s voice was quiet and gentle as she talked, her eyes narrowing softly in the vain hope that her words would get through to her friend. “I know you want someone to blame, and the way things were with you and Drew…” she shook her head again, “I know that he loved you more than any woman he’d ever known. That’s what you gave to him.”
“I…I’ve never known anyone else like him, Kate,” Daye said. Her voice was bleak, lost. “He…he deserved more…better…than that.”
Daye gestured vaguely at the door. “And it’s not just Drew…oh…that’s enough…more than, but…Tash…our Tash…”
Daye felt the wave of loss rising up once more and knew that this time she wouldn’t be able to hold it back. Her eyes flooded with tears. “It’s too much…it’s all just too much. When will it stop? When do we get a chance to just…be happy?”
“I don’t know,” said Kate emptily. She had felt the same after the attack, the unfairness of having to endure in the face of constant misery. And now, the loss of two dear friends… it was almost what she had come to expect. It was as though death was their eternal companion, slowly picking them off one by one.
But Tash… she was one of her closest friends. *Was…* Kate could hardly even allow herself to believe that such a strong, vibrant spirit no longer existed. She was the best of them all, selfless, brave - a true warrior. To think of how she must have died… alone, afraid.
“We… we have to accept the fact that…” Kate felt a single tear roll down her cheek. She could barely believe the words she was about to say. “That the Tash we know is dead. She’s gone.” Kate felt her throat constrict tightly, making it hard to breathe. “Now it’s going to be… going to be up to us to put her to rest. We owe it to her.”
Daye shook her head, horror filling her face. “I…I can’t…Kate…how can I? I can’t kill Tash…we…we can’t…she’s our…our friend…our leader…how can we just strike her down…even if she is a…a…”
Daye’s voice trailed off as her hand moved to the wound on her throat once again. She could feel the cold, sharp sting of Tash’s fangs sinking into her flesh once again. She wondered if she would ever be able to forget that feeling, and yet…she couldn’t hunt down Tash and stake her. She couldn’t do it. How could any of them?
“You know how powerful Tash is,” said Kate numbly, “as a vampire she’s only going to get stronger. Look at what she did here, and it’s only a matter of time before she kills again. Do you think that’s what Tash - our Tash would have wanted? She hated vampires more than anything in this world… and now she’s one of them.” Kate felt herself shudder inside at that thought. “We can’t leave her like that.”
“And we need to contact the others,” added Kate suddenly, “call an emergency meeting of the White Hats or something… she might attack someone else and… we need to be prepared. Whatever we decide to do we’re going to need all the help we can gather in tracking down Tash.”
"Yes, of course..." Daye nodded. "After...after we take care of things here. The police...whatever...I can start calling everyone when I get back to the house. An emergency White Hat meeting is probably the best idea."
: Daye turned and looked into the mirror. While they'd spoken, Kate had managed to clean the worst of the blood off of her face and throat. Daye turned the hot water up high and scrubbed her hands. There were blood stains on her blouse and pants, but there was nothing to be done about them. At least she looked a little less like a madwoman now.
Straightening, Daye grimaced. "The police are probably going to be here any minute now, right. We should get back out there."
Kate nodded silently, clearing away the things they had used to clean up with before following Daye back into the main room. Galen was standing by the window again, looking down at the street below. He turned back to the two women as they returned from the bathroom.
“They’re on their way,” he said quietly, taking Kate’s hand as she joined him, resting her forehead against his shoulder. Galen knew all this was probably more than she could cope with right now, not that something of this magnitude would be easy to deal with at any time but she was still so fragile from her ordeal with Tony. He worried about what effect having to hunt down one of their closest friends would have on her.
“How you holding up?” he asked Daye softly, trying not to look at Drew’s dead body lying on the floor.
Daye watched Kate and Galen in silence, feeling more and more the magnitude of what had happened here tonight. She would never have that again, never be able to turn to Drew for comfort and feel his love and strength supporting her. Maybe that was fair. Maybe it was only what she deserved. She'd made such a mess of things with him. She'd betrayed him, and hurt him, and no matter how sorry she was now, or how much she had wanted to make things right, she'd never really be able to. Drew was gone, and there'd never be another moment with him. Daye would never be able to show him how much she loved him. She would never be able to make up for her mistakes or recapture the time they'd lost.
"I...I...I'll be alright," Daye replied. She glanced down at Drew and took a deep, steadying breath. "I'll...I'll find a way."
Kate frowned slightly, sensing Daye’s sorrow and grief and feeling almost guilty that her natural reaction had been to go to her own husband for comfort while Daye’s husband lay dead on the floor. She slipped from Galen’s embrace and moved over to her friend, sitting her down on the sofa.
“It’s going to be okay, I mean not right now, not for a long time. But eventually…” Kate sighed, wanting to console Daye but also afraid that she would reject her attempts again if she tried. “I know how you feel right now, but you just have to take things one at a time and… and I’m here for you, we both are, whatever you need.” Hesitantly, Kate placed her hand over her friend’s, squeezing gently. “I’m going to help you Daye, you’re not alone - you just have to remember that.”
Daye blinked back fresh tears. It was a little easier now to accept the comfort Kate offered. Daye felt less on the brink.
"I know...and...I really...you're the best friend I've ever had, Kate," Daye replied softly. "I mean that. I don't know...I couldn't do this without you."
Before Kate could respond, there was a loud knock on the hotel room door, followed by a brusque voice announcing, "Police."
Daye glanced at Galen, who tried to look encouraging as he moved around the sofa towards the door. He swung it open and stepped aside to allow two uniformed officers to enter, followed by a dark haired woman dressed in civilian clothes. Daye assumed the woman was a homicide
The woman nodded at Galen. "Detective Eldridge," she turned and scanned the room, frowning. Finally, her gaze came to rest upon Daye and Kate where they sat together on the couch. "Which one of you is Amanda Langley?"
Daye stood, smoothing one hand nervously down the front of her stained clothing. "I...I'm Amanda Langley. That's me."
"Mrs. Langley. I'm Detective Ross. If you don't mind, I'll need to ask you a few questions while these officers secure the room."
"Yes...of course," Daye's gaze darted to Galen. She wanted very much to ask him what he knew about this woman, but there was no way. She couldn't really read anything from his expression, which was as grim as it had been pretty much since the moment he stepped inside the room.
Galen hovered in the back of the room trying not to let his presence be seen as obtrusive while at the same time keeping a measure on the proceedings. Inwardly he felt himself tense, he’d tried to contact Detective Grey whom he knew still worked as an operative for Majestic - her expertise would have certainly been advantageous in such a situation. But unfortunately it seemed she was busy with some other case. Detective Ross on the other hand… though professional she was also tough and distrustful, Galen just hoped they would be able to get through all this without rousing her suspicion too much.
“Just take your time,” he said gently, smiling with encouragement towards Daye. “Mrs. Langley is still in shock,” Galen added to his colleague.
Daye smiled gratefully at Galen. "I'm sure I'll be fine," she said.
Detective Ross glanced at Galen, then turned her attention back to Daye. "I understand that this is a difficult time for you, ma'am. I just want to make sure that whoever is responsible for this is found as soon as possible. I'd like to talk to you alone, if possible. Perhaps Detective Eldridge and your friend could step outside for a few minutes?"
Kate’s eyes flickered anxiously in her husband’s direction. She didn’t want to leave Daye, she remembered how Officer West had ‘questioned’ herself just a few days ago - it had been far from understanding, in fact the little blonde strumpet had been rather accusing at times. Kate didn’t want Daye to have to put up with something like that alone.
Galen smiled slightly. “My ’friend’ happens to also be my wife, detective, and we are both close personal friends of Amanda’s. The decision really lies with her, whether she is up to doing this on her own or if she’d rather have someone to offer support. This isn’t a formal statement after all.”
Daye drew a deep breath to steady herself and then replied, "I'm sure I'll be fine. But I would rather they stayed, Detective Ross, if it's alright. I don't quite feel up to being...by myself just now."
Detective Ross frowned, obviously displeased with this turn of events. "Very well, they can stay."
Detective Ross turned her gaze on Galen. "Just remember this is my investigation, and we'll be fine."
marcus arrives at the hotel
Sunday, July 22nd, 2007, 12:41 am
Daye closed her eyes and mentally counted to ten. She had been sitting here answering Detective Ross' questions for over an hour now, and she was growing more than a little weary of the woman's brusque manner.
"I told you before, I don't know who his visitor was," Daye replied, struggling to keep her annoyance out of her tone. It wouldn't do any good to alienate this woman, or to appear belligerent.
"When I talked to him earlier today, he didn't mention any plans to me. We...we've had some problems lately, obviously. But...but...we were...things were starting to get better. I..."
Daye struggled to keep from breaking down once more, especially in front of this woman.
Marcus cast a wary eye on the numerous police cars surrounding the entrance to Drew’s final resting place as his limousine pulled up. He looked to Onyx, then with a heartfelt sigh got out of the car. He hadn’t liked Drew but the man hadn’t deserved to have his throat ripped out by a demon occupying the corpse of his former friend.
However despite the seriousness of the situation Marcus’ obvious aura of authority allowed him to push past the police officers attempting to bar his path to Drew’s room.
Marcus was finally stopped at the entranceway to the room by an older officer. He caught a glimpse of Daye who looked as distraught as she had sounded on the phone being menaced by a youngish detective.
Involuntarily he called out. “Daye?”
Kate frowned, tilting her head in the direction of the doorway as she heard the familiar male voice. She rose to her feet, leaving Daye in Galen’s guardianship as Detective Ross continued to fire questions at her distraught friend.
*Oh… no…* thought Kate to herself as she recognized the voice, suddenly remembering that Daye had mentioned how she’d called Marcus… though she hadn’t said that he was coming round. Marcus’s cold, unemotional voice was strangely calm but Kate remembered how easily he could hold his emotions in check when he wanted to, how restrained he could be when the situation called for it.
Standing in the doorway she watched him converse with the elderly officer who barred his path for a moment before speaking.
Marcus might be able to control his emotions outwardly but Kate could feel his anger and his concern. She didn’t think he would just leave quietly. “It’s okay you can let him in, he’s a… friend of the family.”
Daye glanced up at the commotion near the door. She saw Marcus standing there, looking rather annoyed. *Okay...I really shouldn't have called him,* Daye thought to herself, glancing at Detective Ross, who was also looking towards the doorway. Daye realized now how it might appear to this detective or to anyone else who could only see the situation from the outside. She'd wanted to warn Marcus about Tash, but she should have insisted that he stay away. Particularly considering the role he had played in the mess her relationship with Drew had become. It really didn't look good.
"Who is that man?" Detective Ross asked, glaring suspiciously at Daye.
Daye sighed. "As Kate has already stated, he's a friend of the family," she replied. "His name is Marcus Dalton."
"I see," Detective Ross glanced at Marcus again. He was still arguing with the officer at the door, but they couldn't hear what was being said. "And you called him?"
Daye nodded wearily. "Yes...I realize now I should have phoned the police directly. I'm afraid I was a bit...confused."
"Yes...well..." Detective Ross scribbled in her notepad and then shut it. "Just give me a moment, Mrs. Langley."
Detective Ross moved towards the door, obviously intent on speaking to Marcus directly.
*Oh...hell...I'm gonna end up in San Quintin,* Daye thought to herself, holding her breath.
Detective Ross stopped before Marcus and the older officer. "Pardon me...Mr. Dalton, is it?"
“Yes, Dalton.” Marcus looked at the woman. She was rather petite but had a presence, obviously founded on the iron belief she was in charge here. Which Marcus supposed she was, but considering the supernatural elements involved he did wonder how quickly that would change.
The remaining occupants of the room seemed concerned by his sudden appearance. Kate’s husband quite obviously so, though Kate seemed almost as concerned. Even Daye seemed slightly taken aback. Marcus processed how his arrival would appear and realized he had probably made a mistake.
"Go ahead and let him in, Wallace," Detective Ross said. "I figure I might have a question or two for him as well."
Detective Ross turned away and assumed that Marcus Dalton was following. She moved back over to where Daye was sitting. Daye stared at her and then glanced at Marcus. She had a sudden, overwhelming desire to jump up and throw herself into his arms.
Despite everything that had happened between them, Daye still felt that she could trust Marcus to protect her and right now she wanted that protection more than just about anything. *That's why you called him, you fool,* Daye scolded herself. His safety had been nothing more than a convenient excuse.
*Goddess…what a mess I’ve made of everything,* Daye thought, forcing herself to focus on Detective Ross. She mustn’t let on about her relationship with Marcus. Although, it would undoubtedly come out at some point here. Calling your lover to the scene of your husband’s death was not prize winning strategy by any means.
“Anyone else on their way over I should know about, Mrs. Langley?” Detective Ross’ tone was sarcastic as all get out. Daye shook her head. “Good. Maybe we can get this all straight now.”
She turned to Marcus. “So, Mr. Dalton, you wanna tell me what relation you were to the deceased then?”
*Carefully now…* Marcus thought. He’d made a mess of things up to this point he didn’t need to compound his error while answering this detective’s questions. The others would avoid saying anything about the animosity between himself and Drew but they wouldn’t outright lie.
“No relation at all. I met Mr. Langley through his wife.”
Detective Ross nodded and made a notation in the small book she held in her hand. "And why are you here now? Why did Mrs. Langley call you? Detective Eldridge I can maybe see, but what special skills or relationship do you have with this woman that she'd risk calling you before she called the police?"
“I really couldn’t comment on why Mrs. Langley called me, perhaps she felt the need to have her friends near rather than acting in the most correct fashion. In the face of such events I doubt many people act logically.”
Detective Ross nodded, but she was frowning at Marcus. She turned away from him, rather dismissively, and refocused her attention on Daye. Daye tried her best to look both innocent and in control.
"Alright, Mrs. Langley, why did you call Mr. Dalton," she asked again. "What I'd really like to know is the exact nature of your relationship with this man."
Daye closed her eyes and took a deep breath. What could she say now that wouldn't be incriminating? She couldn't lie to this woman that was for sure. Any lies she told here above and beyond the ones that were absolutely necessary were bound to come back to haunt her. But what could she say? How could she possibly explain the "exact nature" of her relationship with Marcus Dalton when she could hardly fathom it herself?
"Mrs. Langley?" Detective Ross' voice was impatient as it intruded on her thoughts. "I really need you to answer my question."
Daye nodded slightly. She looked at the detective and drew another steadying breath. "Yes, of course, I'm sorry," she replied softly. She was so tired. Far too exhausted, far too overwrought to even come up with a plausible explanation. "Mr. Dalton and I...we were...we were lovers...Detective Ross. I realize how that must appear, but frankly, I haven't been thinking all that clearly since I found my husband dying on the floor. I am sorry. I can't explain why I called him. I just...I can't."
Marcus went white. Daye’s bald admission went through him like a hurricane. Nonetheless He kept control of himself and focuses his attention on Detective Ross. Her aggressive questioning of Daye had already managed to set his teeth on edge.
Detective Ross nodded thoughtfully at the woman. She could see that Amanda Langley was very close to a breakdown. The woman was on the edge of the sofa, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Her eyes were red and stood out in her pale face. She was covered in blood despite her best efforts to wash some of it away. Amanda Langley looked every bit the distraught widow, but Charlotte Ross knew that looks could be deceiving. This woman had just admitted to calling her lover to the scene of her husband's murder. In the general rule book, that was a damn suspicious action to take. Charlotte was a detective. It was her job to take suspicions and filter in facts. What she needed now were more of those. She turned back to Marcus Dalton. This time she made a thorough perusal of the man before she spoke. He didn't look devastated. No, though he stood still and appeared composed, Charlotte suspected that at this moment the man was seething. She just wondered what it was that had him so angry.
"I see," Charlotte stepped closer to Dalton, deliberately blocking his view of the woman trembling slightly on the sofa. "I think I'll need to ask you a few questions as well then, Mr. Dalton. Perhaps we could step into the other room for a moment?"
Marcus smiled thinly at Detective Ross. “Since I’m not a witness to this particular grisly killing there’s no need to sequester me from everybody else. Detective unless that is you’ve decided I’m a suspect?”
Marcus continued, serenely calm. “I’m sure the security camera logs at the Peninsula Beverly Hills Hotel will show I didn’t leave during the time frame you coroner will establish for the death. For that matter Amanda,” Marcus dropped the pretense of not being close to Daye,“ mentioned that Drew’s throat had been torn out, like he’d been attacked by some wild animal? Hardly a description that fits myself or Daye for that matter.” Of course if you do want to question me in secret you can go ahead. We’ll have to wait for my lawyer of course.”
*He's a cool one,* Charlotte thought to herself. *Cool enough to plan a murder this vicious?*
She glanced back at Amanda, who was now sitting stiffly and watching Marcus with a mixture of horror and gratitude that made absolutely no sense and yet fit the situation perfectly. Charlotte could also see that the woman behind her had some definite feelings for this man, even if she couldn't tell for sure what those feelings entailed.
"Yes, well, Mr. Dalton, I don't think you should go calling your lawyer just yet," she finally replied. "I didn't mean to imply that you were a suspect at this time, and I know you're not a witness. I simply thought it might be better for both yourself and Mrs. Langley if you filled me in on the details of your relationship somewhere private. I didn't want to embarrass either of you any further. However, since you do not care about the delicacy of this situation, I'll be happy to question you now."
Charlotte flipped to a fresh page in her notebook. "So, you're name is Marcus Dalton, and you were Mrs. Langley's lover. She used the past tense, so I am to assume that you are no longer sleeping with this woman, correct?"
“You’re fishing detective for something that isn’t there.” Marcus replied coldly “And I have three witnesses to what could become a very dangerous prosecution for harassment. Charge me, detain me for questioning or stop right now.”
Detective Ross drew herself up to her full, less-than-intimidating height and glared at Marcus Dalton. "I'm trying to ascertain who might have motive to have killed this woman's husband," she jerked her thumb in Daye's direction. "A jealous lover generally is considered to have motive. Men kill for love all the time."
Marcus glanced at Daye and then returned to Ross, his smile twisted sarcastically “Then I’m afraid you don’t even have motive Detective. Considering that method and opportunity are also out of the question I think you can be assured I’m innocent. That however is the limit of your questions for now.” Virtually ignoring the detective Marcus turned to Daye.
“I think it best if you let Kate and Galen take you home. Sam’s no doubt worried and you need to clean up.”
Detective Ross began to interrupt. “Are you going to charge her? Do you have any evidence not just supposition but actual evidence that either Amanda or myself was involved in this? No. Then I suggest you start gathering some. No, then I suggest you start looking for some and when you don't find any, follow where the evidence does lead. If you take suspicion to a court you’ll get laughed out of your job Detective. For now you are not going to further harass an obviously distraught woman in an attempt to badger admissions that are of no relevance. We’re done for today detective. Move on.”
Detective Ross looked furious, but she didn't have any argument to make. "I suppose you're right, Mr. Dalton," she said coldly. "I will have to take a look at the evidence before I can go any further. That doesn't mean that we're through, though, just that for the time being we'll have to postpone our little talk. Do try not to disappear on me, okay? I'll be in touch."
Charlotte turned back to Amanda, who was staring at Marcus Dalton in stark terror. Apparently, she at least felt that antagonizing the investigating officer was a bad idea. Charlotte decided charm was in order. She smiled gently at the woman to reassure her and sat beside her. She spoke very gently. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Langley. I want to assure you that I'm going to find out who did this and bring them to justice. That's why I'm here. It's what I do. I hope that I haven't made this tragedy harder on you. That wasn't my intention. If there is anything that I can do for you, or if you remember anything else, anything you'd like to tell me, please call me."
Charlotte handed Daye a business card, which she took warily. She glanced at the woman and then at Marcus watching with narrowed eyes. Daye sighed. "Thank you, Detective, if I think of anything, I promise I'll be in touch."
Charlotte nodded and then stood abruptly. She brushed past Marcus and went to speak to the officer by the door.
Daye stood shakily and moved towards Marcus. She tried to smile, but failed miserably. She couldn't even pretend.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't...I shouldn't...I'm sorry to have put you through that."
"Go home. Get some rest. We'll find who did this." Marcus smiled and carefully hugged her as he drew back he noted the wound at her throat. His jaw clenched for a moment and he leaned back into hug her. “We’ll find her I promise.” He whispered.
Unable to resist, Daye clung to him for just a moment. For the first time all night, she felt safe. She wanted to stay right there, to let Marcus chase away the demons, but she was all too aware of her responsibilities. So, she pulled back.
"I know," she said. "Thank you...and thank you for being here...no matter how it might have looked. I...I'm grateful that you would come. I wasn't sure..."
Daye shook her head. "No...this isn't the time. But...we...we should talk soon. I'm sorry...for a lot of things...and I want...well...when we have time..."
Suppressing the effect she had on him he replied "Yes, afterwards." Marcus released Daye and stepped back, waiting for Kate and Galen.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Sunday, July 22nd, 2007 around 4 am
Daye shut the door and slid the lock into place. Galen and Kate were headed back to their place for a bit of sleep. They were nearly as exhausted as she was at this point, and although they’d been reluctant to leave her alone, Daye had finally convinced them to go. In a couple of hours, when the sun rose, she would have to get everyone together and try to figure out the best, safest way to stop Tash.
*Tash,* Daye felt the name go through her mind like a hot blade. She couldn’t believe that this had happened, even though after the police and Marcus and everything, it was all too real. Daye felt drained. She slipped down the hall to her bedroom and stepped inside. The room was dark, as the sun wasn’t quite due to come up yet. Daye stopped in the shadows and fought down a wave of sadness. This had been their room, a place she and Drew had shared for so long. Despite what had happened when he left her, Daye still felt him here. She wondered if that feeling would ever fade.
Daye moved through the shadows and into the adjoining bathroom. She flipped a switch and the room was flooded with light. She blinked as her eyesight adjusted and then stared into the mirror for a few minutes. The cream colored silk dress she’d worn tonight had been one of Drew’s favorites. She’d put it on a few hours ago thinking she’d use any advantage she had to get him back. Now, she’d do anything in her power to turn back the clock.
Her sleeve was torn, probably in the scuffle with Tash. Her dress was streaked with blood, wrinkled and ruined. Daye lifted a finger to rub the soft material, flinching at the spots where it had become hard and rough. This was Drew. Here, splattered on this cloth, was all that she had left of her husband.
Slowly, reverently, Daye lifted the dress over her head and laid it on the bathroom counter. Moving with care, she turned on the water of the shower, and waited until the spray was nearly scalding. She removed the rest of her clothes, letting them fall forgotten to the floor and stepped under the cascading water. Daye let her head fall forward as the heat washed the remaining blood from her body. She ran her hands up and down her arms in a quick motion and then simply wrapped them about herself. She watched the water run down the drain, tainted pink. Daye felt the hot pain choking her once again. With no one to witness, no one to pity her, Daye let the tears run, streaming into the cleansing spray and washing down with the blood. She cried, softly and silently, until she felt weak and dizzy with it.
Finally, the tears slowed and stopped. Daye finished washing and turned off the water. She stepped from the shower and grabbed her robe from its place on the hook. Daye wrapped herself up and toweled off her hair. Then, she took up the bloodstained dress, clutching it in her hands. Rage and loss flooded her.
“Why?!” She turned around, looking for answers. Where were the all knowing spirits, the guides and guardians that had followed her all her life? She needed answers. Where were they now? Where were they when she was the lost one?
“Why?” Daye’s fierce whisper broke the stillness of the early morning. “What have I done? What have I ever done but what was expected of me? Why does this keep happening? Why do you take everyone I love?”
Daye strode out of the room and down the hallway. She eased open the door to her little girl’s room and moved silently inside. Maia slept peacefully in her crib, one chubby fist curled by her face and the other tightly clutching her teddy bear. Drew had given Maia that bear when the girl was only four months old. Daye could remember Drew coming into the apartment, a huge grin wreathing his face, his hands tucked behind his back.
”What are you doing home?” Daye asked, Maia tucked into her arm, suckling away peacefully. “I thought you had a faculty meeting this afternoon.”
“I skipped it,” Drew replied, smiling down at the two of them. He brought one hand around and gently stroked the dark down on Maia’s head. She snuggled, but didn’t pause in her feeding. “How’s our girl?”
“Greedy,” Daye replied with a happy sigh. “She’s been at it for half an hour and she shows no signs of getting sleepy.”
“Well, she’ll be up more and more as she gets older,” Drew said, stooping down so that he was closer to them. “The fun part starts before you know it.”
“It’s all the fun part,” Daye admonished. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“I guess I have,” Drew agreed. Maia chose that moment to turn her head towards the sound of his voice. She stared at him for a moment and then smiled.
“She smiled at me,” Drew blurted, looking a little dazed. “Did you see that? She smiled. At me.”
“Uh huh,” Daye nodded, trying not to laugh. He looked so shocked, but so enamored as well. “She’s doing that a lot lately.”
“Wow…she’s beautiful,” Drew said softly.
Daye couldn’t hold back the laugh this time. She chuckled softly. “Yeah…she’s a pretty little lady,” she agreed. Daye cocked her head to one side. “You’ve gone and stolen my man, missy,” Daye said to Maia, pretending to frown.
Drew looked up at her, love shining in his blue eyes. “Never,” he swore. “I love you, Amanda. I will always, always love you.” His eyes dropped to Maia, and his voice became a rough whisper. “Both of you.”
Daye felt tears threaten at his heartfelt words. “Oh, Drew…” she reached out and cupped his cheek.
Drew smiled boyishly and pulled his other hand from behind his back. “Oh, yeah, I nearly forgot, I bought Maia a present.”
Daye laughed softly at the sight of the brown bear with the big red bow tied around its neck. “Well, hello there, little bear,” she said softly. Maia gurgled and they both looked down to see her focusing on the stuffed animal and smiling. “I think she likes it,” Daye said.
“Bear will be here for you always, Maia,” Drew said, placing the bear beside the baby in Daye’s arms. “Whenever I can’t, he’ll look out for my girl.”
“Lulu,” Daye whispered, gently stroking the little bear. Maia had named it not long after she’d started talking. “You’ve a real job now,” Daye said, thinking of how hard the next few days would be for her little girl. Daye felt that overwhelming sense of loss rising again, and carefully she moved out of the room before it overtook her. For the moment, Maia deserved her peaceful rest.
Daye headed down the hall towards the kitchen. She would brew some tea to steady herself and then start to make phone calls. Dawn was just now breaking and this day was about to begin. She would make it through. She would make it through them all, one at a time. What more could she hope to do?
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Sunday, July 22nd, 2007
5:55 am
Daye scrubbed her hair with a towel as she stepped into the kitchen. The sun was barely up over the horizon, and outside the window, birds sang sweetly. Daye felt a pang as she considered how this day was dawning bright and full of promise. How wrong it all seemed somehow. Shouldn't the whole world have stopped at the moment that Tash sank her fangs into Drew? How could the sun rise? How could everything just go on, as if they didn't matter, as if they didn't even exist? This was the part of death that Daye found the worst, the indignity of it. Drew and Tash deserved more. They deserved to be acknowledged, by the world as a whole. Their sacrifices deserved to be counted.
Daye sighed. She moved around the kitchen, putting on the kettle and mentally listing the things she still needed to do. Top of that list was contacting everyone else. So far, she'd only managed to speak to Kate and Galen, and to Marcus. Every other White Hat would have to be called, would have to be informed. Probably, they should all meet somewhere and start to make plans. There were so many things to consider now, not the least of which would be stopping Tash from hurting anyone else.
Daye moved to grab the handset on the cordless phone, but then pulled back when she saw the message light blinking on the telephone.
She reached out and pressed the button.
Alessa's voice poured out of the speaker, her tone near panic. "Daye, this is Alessa. I don’t have time to explain now but... if Tash comes, please don’t let her in. Whatever happens, DONT LET HER IN!"
Daye stepped back as the message ended. The time stamp indicated that Alessa had called just a short while before, probably when Daye was in the shower.
"Goddess...now what?" Daye asked the empty room. She would have to go find Alessa...or something. Surely the message could only mean that Tash had attacked the other woman after leaving the hotel. Alessa had not sounded hurt. She'd sounded afraid, but that was to be expected. Tash was one of the best of them, so surely the vampire she'd become would be a force to be reckoned with.
Daye shook her head. It was almost too much to handle. There were so very many things to consider here.
Alessa sighed, relieved, as she surveyed the outside of Daye’s house. Nothing seemed to be out of order, the house was dark and silent, as it should be, no signs of a forced entry...
She grimaced, if Tash had decided to pay Daye a visit -and she got there before her message- there wouldn’t be any signs. No way a vampire could force her way in, but she had almost fooled her at the Big House. Actually, the fact that nobody at Daye’s - or Kate’s - had picked up the phone was what had prompted her to go check things up before calling anybody else. She thought that people at Poplar’s were safe enough against a vampire, anyway. She had just gone to Daye’s first because she was closer.
Not wanting to lose more time, she passed the car parked in the driveway and lithely jumped up the stairs to the door. She hesitated only a second before knocking, praying somebody would answer the call.
Daye's head shot up at the sound of someone knocking on her door. She sighed, tugged her robe closer and made her way to the hall. She was glad that she'd waited to awaken Sam. He needed to be told what was going on, but she wanted to have some kind of plan at least in the beginning stages before she got everyone else involved.
*Planning is what I should be doing now,* Daye thought to herself as she approached the door and leaned in to peer out the small window. She'd been expecting the police perhaps, but when she saw Alessa standing on her porch, Daye felt a flood of relief.
At least her assumption that the other woman was alright had been a correct one.
Daye opened the door and spoke, "Hello, Alessa, I just got your message. You'd best come in and tell me what happened with Tash. I've got some things to tell you as well."
Alessa almost staggered from relief when she saw Daye, not stopping to see the tell tale sings of distress on her friend’s face. “Oh my, you are ok! I was so worried when you didn’t answer my call!” She embraced her friend and only there she noted her stiffening. She parted a little and studied her face, just realizing that Daye hadn’t sounded surprised about her warning on Tash. “Daye, what’s happened querida?” she asked.
Daye stepped back, leading Alessa into the house. She shut the door behind the other woman carefully before turning back to look at her. As with Kate, Alessa's care and concern chafed. It was too soon, and far too hard to just accept comfort.
"I know about Tash already," Daye replied, wishing that her voice sounded less...empty. "I...She was at Drew's hotel last night...when I got there...He didn't know. How could he have known. He's been talking to her, working things out in his head, so when she showed up, Drew let her in. He didn't know any better."
Daye could feel the pain threatening to choke her. She had to say it, but how? How could she ever get these words out?
So her warning had come in late, after all. Alessa looked at Daye and guessed what she wasn't saying. Tash had killed Drew, or worse, turned him. She opened her mouth but she couldn’t manage to say anything.
Daye stared blankly at Alessa. She wasn't really seeing her friend, but rather the scene at the hotel room. Her voice was wooden as she continued. "When I got there, I heard him screaming. He sounded so frightened. I ran in and found Tash holding Drew. There was so much blood. Daye laughed hollowly. "I guess vampires learn to be more...tidy...as they grow more experienced. Tash...she ripped out his throat. I...I didn't know at first, of course."
Daye fell silent as she recalled the cruel, painful things Tash had said to her, hoping to increase her terrible guilt. As if any of it made a difference. No matter what had happened really, Daye couldn't stop blaming herself.
"Not until I felt her fangs in my throat," Daye continued as if unaware of the pause in her narrative. "I knew then, though. I knew exactly what had happened. I tried...I tried to bind her...to keep her from running off. I was thinking we could...I don't know...but she broke free and ran off."
Daye looked at Alessa finally. "I'm so sorry. She was able to come after you because I wasn't strong enough...or quick enough. I just...I let her get away. I'm so sorry."
“Don’t worry about that now, she didn’t cause any harm. Actually she didn’t even try to enter the house, she just rampaged Oz’s apartment.” She took Daye’s very cold hands, “There was this Fae with her… a blond one, Loco, or something like that.”
Daye thought for a moment. She didn’t know of that particular fae, but she figured that Darian might. Which meant another phone call, another person to bring up to speed. She scrubbed a hand across her eyes, suddenly so very tired. How could she do this again and again? How could she explain and keep the screams clawing at her from breaking free?
*Oz’s apartment?* Daye thought. *Oz…yet another casualty.* Pretty soon there’d be more fallen than left standing on this battle field. It was the nature of their lives…the lives some of them had simply been thrust into at birth. Daye felt the most overwhelming desire to just be…normal.
“Why…oh, of course, with Oz gone they had free reign there, didn’t they?” Daye’s mouth twisted into a bitter frown as she spoke. She’d hardly known Oz, but still…“So…you stumbled upon them there and…then what?” Daye asked. “Were they after something in particular? Or just having some fun desecrating the home of a dead man?”
Alessa blushed slightly, avoiding her friend’s eyes. She hadn't known when she promised Oz not to talk that it’d feel so bad to keep his secret. But now Tash knew of Oz, and he’d join them in whatever action they took. She didn't have to lie any longer.
“Well, actually Daye... Oz is not dead.” She noticed the surprised look in the witch’s eyes and rushed on. “He’s an angel now, a real one. I learnt about it when i came back from NY, and he asked me to keep the secret. I think he was waiting for the right moment to let you all know.”
“Not that this is the right moment but...” She made a face at the irony of the whole matter. “I can tell you Tash had a big surprise too.”
Daye laughed mirthlessly. "Apparently it's time for sweeping changes," she muttered. "I for one would have been okay with things staying the same."
“Oh... Alessa... what are we going to do now?" she asked forlornly, collapsing into a chair at the kitchen table. She rested her head in her palms and sighed.
Alessa kneeled besides Daye and put her arms around her shaking figure. She realized just now that the woman had just lost her husband... killed by her best friend. Sweeping changes indeed.
A surge of pity enveloped her, making her forget her own misery... and her throat went dry. She gulped and just stroked Daye’s fiery hair. Somehow she sensed that the last Daye needed at the moment was her compassion, the woman was in the edge of collapsing. She could see the symptoms, knew them too well. Hollow eyes, stricken looks... If she left her, her friend would simply break down.
“We need to round the others, start planning how to stop Tash.” She said with a sureness she didn't feel. She brushed Daye’s hair and took her face in her hands, her expression kind but stern. “We can't let her go on, we owe it to her. To Drew.”
Daye wanted to recoil from Alessa's conviction. "You're saying we should hunt her down and kill her," Daye's voice was full of horror. "Alessa...this is Tash. It's Tash. How...how can we?"
“No she isn't. Tash is dead, that thing is a monster. A demon in her body.” Alessa felt herself shake at the notion, she thought about her own doubts just a while ago, and her mouth tightened. “There’s no cure for vampirism, this isn't like Hyde.”
She looked at Daye’s stricken face, and her expression softened. She remembered her own reaction to Morris’ turning, it wasn't easy. “She left us, Daye. For good.”
Daye fought hard against that very truth. Tash was gone. No. It couldn't be true. There had to be some way...
"Maybe...maybe not...maybe there's something we've missed," Daye suggested. "If we find her quickly...maybe...Marcus!"
Daye stood and began pacing. "He's a necromancer, right? So maybe he could find a way to... to cure her... you know? Maybe she's not gone for good. Maybe we can still save her."
Alessa bit her lip, she could understand Daye’s desperation, her need for a way out of this dreadful reality. “Daye...” she said, but the woman was too gone in her ramblings. “Daye!” she repeated, louder this time. “It’s not possible. There’s no cure, there’s nothing to cure.”
The demoness stood up as well, and walked towards Daye, her strong hands stopping the woman’s pacing and forcing her to look down at her.
“Tash’s soul left her.” She saw another flicker of hope in Daye’s eyes and grimaced. “That’s not a solution either. You are a Watcher, you know what happened to Angelus...”
At the mention of Angelus, Daye seemed to deflate. She drew back into herself. "You... you're right," she replied. "I'm... sorry. You're right. We have to... we have to find Tash and we have to stop her... for good."
Daye let her eyes slide closed as she drew another slow breath. There was no time for anything other than clear thinking. "We need to get everyone together, as soon as we can," Daye said finally.
"Will you help me make some calls?"
Alessa smiled, relieved to see frenziness leave her friend’s eyes. “I was about to propose you that same thing.”
She looked out of the window. The sun was shinning, it was going to be a beautiful day. Hopefully long too.
“There’s not so much rush now, gracias a Dios. But we may as well start making those calls.” She looked at Daye again, and caressed her arm. “Just relax and let me handle everything, ok? Where’s your phone?”
Daye was too exhausted, spread too thin. She gestured towards where the telephone waited on the kitchen counter. "It's just there. My book is beside it and everyone's number is in there. I'll make some tea while you start calling around."
Daye stood and moved into the kitchen. She turned back. "Thank you, Alessa."
Alessa looked at Daye, supressing the sudden urge to go to her and embrace her tightly. She wanted to hold Daye and tell her that everything would be ok, everything would be over soon... But she didn't. Those words didn't ring right, they didn't ring true. Daye had suffered too much in her life, and now this. Ryan, Drew and now Tash... it wasn't fair and it wouldn't be all right. Not now, not ever.
She bit her lower lip, maldición, losing Tash was... just too much, for the whole lot of them. Tash had been like a rock, always there for support and strenght. She had been like the cement in the brick wall of the White Hats, of her group of friends...
“You are welcome, Daye,” she managed to say at last. And she smiled, trying to convey all her feelings in her smile.
Daye could see the struggle in Alessa's eyes. She knew that the other woman understood all too well what losing Tash this way might mean. She just couldn't discuss it. Not right now. Not like this. So she forced herself to turn away, to brew the tea as Alessa began to dial the phone.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Sunday, 22nd July 2007 – 6:15am
Biltmore Hotel, Los Angeles
Tash lay between the warm sheets of the comfortable hotel bed and listened to the steady breathing beside her. Soft morning sunlight tinged the edges of the heavy curtains covering the windows, but no rays penetrated the friendly darkness of the room. Sighing, Tash rolled over and laid one arm across the warm body next to her. The man shifted slightly in his sleep, mumbling in contentment.
Despite the dim light, Tash could see quite clearly. She experimented a few times, shifting from vamp face to human and noticing how much more she could see when the demon was manifest. Allowing her true vampire nature to come to the fore also heightened her other senses. Just lying there she had already been aware of the scent of the man in the bed – his sweat, his musk, the hint of blood running through his veins. She could also smell the stale copper of the blood cooling on his wife’s corpse. The woman sat propped up in the chair next to the bed, facing her husband. Her bedraggled blonde hair fell over one side of her face.
But when Tash shifted to game face she became acutely aware of those scents. The warm pulse in the man’s throat hypnotised her, tempting her with its proximity. She watched avidly for a while as his skin throbbed, each surge matching the rhythm of his heartbeat. Of its own accord, her tongue swept slowly across her lips. But no. The mindless, ravening hunger of the new-born vampire had left her, and she wasn’t yet ready to feast on this man.
Drew had been delectable, but not half as tasty as Daye’s emotional turmoil. The ecstasy she’d drunk from Niko’s bloodstream had long ago worn off, and killing the blonde woman had been merely a means to an end. But now that she had a safe haven – well, safe enough for today, at least – Tash felt she finally had a chance to fully experience the joys of feeding from a victim’s psyche even as she drank his blood.
She nuzzled closer to the man, moving against him suggestively, rubbing her body against his. He woke slowly, arousal stirring in him. Tash kept her senses finely tuned on him, feeling his passions rise and waiting for that moment… there. That first hint of doubt crept into his sleep-fogged brain as he realised that the female shape he caressed didn’t feel quite right. Doubt turned to worry in a microsecond and he pulled back to stare at Tash. She grinned at him.
“Morning, darling,” she purred.
He yelped. “Who the hell are you?”
He tried to scramble out of the bed but Tash held him firmly, her inhuman strength keeping him locked in place. The tiny bud of his fear began to blossom, and Tash’s grin grew wider in anticipation of the banquet to come. She swiftly and smoothly rose to straddle him, her naked body glistening in the dusk of the room. His alarm ebbed slightly back to anxiety, and then merely uncertainty. After all, it’s not every morning you get woken by a nude Nubian princess. But then Tash placed one hand on his cheek and ever so gently turned his head.
His eyes widened in shock and horror but even as he opened his mouth to scream Tash bent down and covered his face with her own, stifling any sound he might have made. He struggled frantically beneath her, muffled cries mixing with sobs of protest and denial. But the image he’d just seen was burned into his brain. The flaccid corpse of his wife sat slumped in a chair, obviously very dead, her eyes still open and staring in disbelief. Staring right at him. How could he have slept through her murder? How? Somehow this crazy black woman had come in and…
Lying atop the man, Tash basked in the slow unravelling of his mind as he imagined all sorts of terrifying scenarios. “What’s the matter, honey?” she asked softly, “Bad dream?”
He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing that it was all a dream, that when he opened them it would be his wife in bed with him and the rest was just the fading remnants of a nightmare. But when he opened them again, the black woman was still grinning down at him. A new scream died in his throat as her face twisted and changed. He watched in morbid fascination as her eyes gleamed yellow and her forehead thickened, turning her into something primal and bestial. Then he saw the fangs and all those stories he’d heard whispered in the dark about strange goings-on in Los Angeles suddenly came to life.
For Tash, the fun was just beginning. With the man’s fear beginning to peak, she lowered her face to his neck. He tensed, expecting the worst, but she didn’t bite. Instead she once more began to move her hips against him, her body undulating in a slow, hypnotic rhythm.
“Do you want to live, Gerald?”
Through quick, fearful breaths the man stammered, “W-what? How did you know my-?”
Tash stopped moving for a second and regarded him steadily. “Never mind that. It’s a simple enough question: do you want to live?”
“Yes.” The reply was meek, frightened.
“Then you know what to do.”
She rolled over, taking him with her so the man faced his recently deceased wife. He stared at her over Tash’s shoulder, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I- I can’t…”
“Oh well then, you’ll just have to die.” She nicked his throat with her fangs.
“Wait! Uh, I mean… I can’t with her there like that.”
Oh, this was good. Now fear and horror mixed with a deep-seated survival instinct, and she could swear she felt just a hint of lust buried in there. It was a heady brew.
“Too bad, she’s part of the deal – she gets to watch. After all, it’s the only fun the poor dear’s going to get any more.” Tash reached behind her and patted the corpse’s knee.
Gerald sobbed once, brokenly, and Tash felt something warm and wet against her leg. She sighed. “No, that’s not exactly what I had in mind, you know. Now you’ve upset me. You don’t want to see me upset.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I’m just… oh God, help me.”
Snarling, Tash threw back the covers and leapt out of the bed, dragging the man out by his throat until he dangled in front of her. “God’s not going to help you now, you stupid little shit,” she growled. “Your wife’s dead. You slept right through the whole thing, and the best you can do when confronted with her murderer is to wet yourself. You’re pathetic. You’re not even worth killing.”
She threw him away from her. He sailed across the bed and landed awkwardly on the far side. Tash jumped onto the centre of the bed and stood with arms akimbo, looking down at him disdainfully. He lay on the floor, looking up at her. The tiny germ of hope she’d just planted faltered, almost died, but when she remained still it slowly grew. Maybe she meant it when she said she couldn’t be bothered to kill him. Maybe he would live through this. Losing Adele was terrible, but right now all he cared about was getting out of this hellish mess. Then she smiled, baring her fangs, and that flicker of hope faded and dwindled to nothing.
He raised his arms to fend her off, but she was too strong. She batted his arm aside, tasting the sharp spike of pain when she shattered his elbow. Then she was on him, her teeth sinking deeply into the rich, adrenaline-filled vein at his throat.
“Hmm,” she murmured, pausing half-way through to lick the wound and stare into his panic-stricken eyes. The last vestiges of his sanity were already starting to bury themselves deeply in his brain, leaving behind a frightened, mewling animal.
Tash spoke softly, as though to a child. “Doesn’t that feel good? You’re filling me right up, nice and warm, just like I asked you to. You know, I don’t have to drink any more. You could still live. There’s just one little thing you have to do for me, and you can live. You want to live, don’t you Gerald?”
He didn’t answer, but the four-course dinner of terror was once more tinged with hope. And once more she took it away from him. The anguish in the wake of that removal of hope was sweeter than wine. Thrusting her hand down, she rummaged around his groin. “Oh,” she said in disappointment. “Looks like you don’t want to live after all. You’re all shrivelled up down there. What, don’t you find me attractive?”
She bared her fangs at him, his blood dripping off the points, and the only reply she received from him was a whimper. Then she finally stopped playing with her food and finished the job.
Letting the human features of Tash regain dominance, she closed her eyes and let the softness of the bed envelop her once more. Gerald lay on the floor where she’d drained him dry. Adele remained seated in her chair on the opposite side of the bed. Secure for now, and fully sated, Tash turned her thoughts to her future.
The sensible thing for her to do would be to leave LA as soon as possible. She knew exactly what was going to be arrayed against her, and caution demanded that she make a new home elsewhere. Somewhere less hazardous. Somewhere without those thrice-damned White Hats. It wasn’t as though there was any shortage of cities ripe for exploitation. She could set herself up in any of them.
But LA tasted right. And she had a reputation here among the demons and the undead. Albeit that reputation was as a hunter of their kind, but once her new status was known many of them would be sure to realise her potential. Even as a human she had been talented; now that she was a vampire she could become virtually unstoppable.
*Just like the Brotherhood?* Tash curled her lip at that small inner voice. Sure, the White Hats had defeated the four most powerful vampires in existence. But at what cost? Still, she knew it was the sort of cost they were willing to pay. Stupid humans.
She tossed on the bed, her joy at Gerald’s demise fading quickly under the onslaught of these uncomfortable thoughts. None knew better than she what sorts of resources that old group of hers could muster if they wanted to. And having one of them turned to a vampire was probably sending them into a frenzy of phone calls and hastily-arranged meetings even now. Well, at the very least she could ensure that they wouldn’t get their greedy little hands on the Foundation’s fortune.
Reaching across to the bedside table, she picked up the phone and cradled it in her lap. She quickly punched in the 1-800 number she knew and chose the appropriate menu options from the automated system. Soon she was speaking to a real person.
“This is Natasha Brookes. I wish to arrange a transfer of funds from the Victor Tek Foundation account.”
There was a brief pause, then Tash responded with her personal codes and passwords. After a short while the liquid assets of the Foundation – some eleven million dollars and change – were in Tash’s personal accounts.
“Great. There are some other transactions I’ll want to make. I intend to sell off the bulk of the artefacts and other assets, if you’ll start getting that in motion.”
Soon the negotiations were finalised and Tash rested back on the bed, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction. In just a few days the remainder of the Foundation’s fortune would be securely in her control, as soon as Victor’s lawyers arranged the sale.
Now all she had to worry about was whether to run or to stay. Running still struck her as the most sensible option, but it would be a shame to leave behind the potential power base she could build here. “I’ll give it one night,” she whispered. “Bob’s Bar – I’ll test the waters tonight and see. If nothing comes of it, then I’m outta here.” With that thought, she rolled over and let herself sleep.
*****
As Tash slumbered, a flunky in the Wolfram & Hart office Tash had called tugged on the sleeve of his superior. “Sir? That verification for Ms Brookes’ transfer? Uh, there was one anomalous reading that we’ve just identified. The indicators say she’s no longer human, but is a vampire.”
“Oh, excellent news, Sir,” another underling piped up. “She’s more our sort of client now.”
“Hmph. Not exactly. I’ve been working this portfolio for a long time. The instructions were quite clear about our course of action should this happen to Ms Brookes.” The man sighed heavily. “I suppose I shall have to arrange a trip to Los Angeles. We need to establish a successor.”
“What about the transfer we made, Mr Watterson? And the liquidation of assets?”
“Halt the liquidation. As for the transfer, I’m afraid it has gone through. We can’t retrieve that. Still, it was a mere drop in the ocean, considering the size of this particular portfolio. The beneficiaries shouldn’t be too upset.”
The Russian, The Witch and the Wardrobe
***Sunday, 22nd July 2007 – 9:30am***
The two travellers walked down a dirt road, a satchel over each of their backs.
It would be their third attempt at reaching Los Angeles. Or was it fourth? After showing up in the wrong dimension several times, and having to find their way back to the Crossroads, Nikolai was feeling more than a little annoyed. Dipak had apologised, claiming to have not been sure which dimension they originated from, but assured Nikolai that this time, his directions were right.
“We can only hope,” Vard-Lokkar muttered when Nikolai voiced his concern. “At least this time, we’re focused on the right time period and location. It’ll be nice not to show up in the middle of the Battle of Stalingrad this time.”
Nikolai could not help but to agree more, and thought it was just dumb luck which saved them from having the Nazis and Red Army both riddling them with bullet holes for good measure. “Or into another demon dimension where humans are slaves, that was a -“
The Crossroads vanished, to be replaced with blackness.
Nikolai could not see exactly where he was, just that he was surrounded by fabric, and made a nice thud as he walked right into a door. It was enough to unbalance him enough that he fell backwards, catching clothes and sending them scattering to the floor
Somewhere along the line, he stepped on what may or may not have been a woman’s shoe, and fell over sideways.
One thought occurred to him through the daze: Closet.
Kate had been quietly getting dressed when she heard a strange noise emanating from inside her wardrobe. She cast a wary glance towards the bathroom; the sound of running water from the shower was audible as was Galen’s slightly off-key singing as he washed. Hearing another series of muffled noises from within the closet, Kate pressed her ear against the door, her hand poised above the handle.
Just at that moment the door burst open.
“Aaargh!!” cried Kate in surprise, stumbling backwards and falling onto the bed as the two figures fell out of the wardrobe with a clatter and into the room.
“Aaarrgh!! What the-” Kate screamed again, throwing her hands up blindly into the air, propelling a bolt of kinetic energy at the intruders as she scrambled to her feet in a tangle of bedsheets. “Get back! Get back, I- I have powers and I’m not afraid to-”
Inside the closet, Nikolai managed to get to his feet and find a door handle just in time for Vard-Lokkar to come falling through and knock the door open. This to be followed by a woman screaming in surprise, and the two men scrambling out of the way to dodge a bolt of energy.
Nikolai tried to think fast, noticing the feelings of panic and surprise, though with a familiar undertone to them. Looking up, he focused his eyes before the woman before him registered. “Katya? Is that -“
She was using the sheet to cover herself. “I’m sorry, I had no idea… I can explain, eventually, we’ll just wait outside….” he finished hastily, trying to shove Vard-Lokkur out of the bedroom.
“KOYLA!?” Kate’s voice was breathless and high pitched with disbelief as she finally recognised her friend. Her eyes flew to the man by his side who eyeballed her curiously as Nikolai nervously began shoving him towards the door.
Sensing the cause of Nikolai’s embarrassment, Kate quickly pulled on her robe before scrambling her way out of the bedsheets. “What… huh… I…” she stared at the wardrobe in wonder, stumbling over to it and pulling back the door before sticking her head inside. This didn’t make sense… Koyla was supposed to be in India or Asia or some other far off place, not falling out of her closet!
“Cesso!” she cried out suddenly, pointing her index finger at the two men and halting their retreat as powerful magics circled around them, holding them in place. Kate’s hand trembled, her anxiety palpable. Was this Nikolai or some kind of trick? With everything that had happened in the last 48 hours, Kate wasn’t about to take any chances.
The commotion and raised voices quickly brought Galen racing out of the bathroom, dripping wet and naked except for the towel that he’d managed to wrap around his waist. “What’s-” he began, one hand clutching at his towel while the other held a sink plunger as the only available weapon. He stopped dead as he registered the scene in front of him. Kate’s eyes had turned pure black as she channelled magics that swirled around the room and wrapped themselves around the squirming figures of two men.
“Nikolai?” Galen muttered in confusion, glancing at his wife and then back at the two men. He was so dumbfounded his hold on his towel slipped, but he grabbed hold of it again just in time. “What is going on here?”
Kate maintained her strong focus, her eyes a hollow blank void of dark magics. “Good question.”
Nikolai felt strange, as though his body had started to turn to goo. Seeing Kate’s eyes in the mirror, he wanted to recoil, tried to recoil, just couldn’t. I wonder if we got the right dimension this time, he wondered.
“With a very complicated explanation,” he got out somehow. “You remember, I left for India, right? And left you Tolstoy? Well when I got there, I found what I was looking for. It’s just that the temple happened to be located in a cross-dimensional plain called the Crossroads, which has a number of different exits. When my guide mentioned that one was in L.A. we thought that it would be more effective to use the L.A. exit. It’s just that, well… I thought it would be in a park or something, not someone’s closet.”
Stopping, Nikolai glanced between Kate in the mirror and Galen. He couldn’t tell what Kate thought, though Galen was obviously incredulous. Sighing heavily, a thought occurred to him of a way to try to prove he was who he said he was. “I know, you don’t believe me, the doubt is almost palpable - Katya, you should know that I’m picking up your emotions right now because you helped to put my mind back together during its merging with L’Than.”
Please tell me that happened in this reality he thought, remembering that this actually was attempt number four.
Kate retracted her hand a little, allowing the magics to loosen their hold. She narrowed her eyes quizzically; of course there were many ways in which a demon or other adept could have found out those things. But there was something about the level of detail that made her believe this really was her friend, despite his incredible story. Still, Kate was hesitant. She glanced at Galen who stood awkwardly in the doorway to the bathroom, a steady puddle of water pooling at his feet.
“I…” suddenly Kate’s eyes focused on a small stone tied around Koyla’s neck on a piece of leather. The polished gem glowed a golden brown colour, it was the tiger’s eye that she’d given to him before he’d left on his journey. Kate smiled weakly, lowering her hand completely, her eyes clouding over before turning back to their normal blue.
“Koyla…” she breathed with clear relief, “oh… Koyla…” Her earlier suspicion forgotten, Kate closed the distance between them and embraced her friend warmly. “I… I’m so sorry Koyla, I didn’t know… things… you don’t know what’s been happening since you’ve been away. I’m so glad to see you…”
Relief and worry washed over Nikolai as Kate came up to embrace him. There was no small amount of confusion present in the room either, though he could tell that most of this came from Vard and Galen. At least now he could relax some. “I’m glad to see you as well,” he got out.
When their embrace broke briefly, he looked around in confusion at the others who were standing there, then chanced a glance towards the closet. Kate and Galen’s clothing were spread out in a mess over the floor.
“There’s just one thing I have to ask,” he said seriously. “By any chance, do you have the letter ‘J’ here still?”
Kate looked at him as though he had lost his mind. Nikolai breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Oh thank god, we’re home. The first time we tried to leave, we didn’t end up in your closet, but we did end up in a park - and there was no letter J. Also a lot of other strange things, like how Vladimir Putin supported Democracy and the current Pope was Jean Paula III”
“It doesn’t rain doughnuts either,” muttered Galen quietly as he removed his bathrobe from the back of the door and pulled it on.
“So what’s with the whole Narnia deal?” asked Kate, glancing back at the wardrobe. “You’re not really saying there’s an interdimensional portal in the back of our closet are you?”
“Well it’d explain why I keep losing my socks,” Galen added with a grimace. It wasn’t the time for jokes, not with everything that had been happening lately. Things that, Galen suddenly realised, Nikolai didn’t know about. “How come you’re back anyway?”
“Because I found myself,” Nikolai said simply, trying to readjust to everything, and avoid blushing at Kate’s half-naked husband trying to keep a grip on the situation. “So, it seemed right to return, though we did have a few minor complications.”
“Like the demon dimension where humans were slaves,” Vard-Lokkar finally spoke up. “Being dropped in the middle of a major battle did not help matters either.”
At the resulting curiosity, he felt the need to explain. “This is Vard-Lokkar. He’s an artificer who shares the philosophy of the Temple.”
Kate nodded in the other man’s direction. He was a strange looking sort, barely visible beneath the dark hood of his cloak. As though sensing her wariness, the man pulled back the cowl, revealing whitened skin and even whiter hair that curled down to his shoulders. Kate smiled modestly, whoever Vard-Lokkar was he had considerable power the like of which she had never come into contact with before.
“I’m Catherine… Kate, Eldridge,” she said politely, offering Vard-Lokkar her hand, “and my husband, Galen.” While the two men shook hands Kate turned her attention back to Nikolai, worry clouding her eyes. She had to tell him about Tash, she just didn’t know how.
Nikolai looked back and forth between Kate and Galen slowly. It was the first time that he noticed the underlying currents between them. One of the benefits of quieting his mind was a greater understanding of nuances of what he could feel. Sorrow blended with shock and disturbance.
Something was dreadfully wrong. “What’s wrong? You seem a bit distant.”
Kate took a deep breath, “Yes… I’m afraid that…” she sighed heavily, her eyelids dipping sadly. “Something terrible has happened, Koyla.” Kate’s voice broke slightly, betraying the inner pain that she’d been trying so hard to keep under control.
Sensing his wife’s distress, Galen crossed the room to be with her, wrapping his arms around Kate protectively. She had been through so much in the last few days but with what had happened with Tash and Drew the violation she’d suffered at Tony’s hands had been pushed uncomfortably to one side. Galen desperately wanted to take Kate away from everything, to give her time to heal her own wounds – but she wouldn’t hear about it.
“There’s a lot we need to talk about.” Galen addressed Nikolai and his companion. “I think we should go downstairs, this could take a while.”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
***Sunday, 22nd July 2007 – 10:30am***
The news didn’t sink in at first. When Kate first told him what happened, the ever-important distinction between turned and dead hadn’t occurred, because you couldn’t have the former without the latter. So when she said that they were having a meeting to decide what to do about it, Nikolai had been confused and asked why before the realization dawned on him.
Tash was no longer human, at least in some important sense.
No doubt, knowing what he did about his friends, that meant that the days of her ‘un-life’ were numbered. They would try to avoid the thought that maybe part of her survived the process, long enough to actually drive a stake into her heart. At which point, the friend he shared so many lunches with and each mutually concealed secrets would be little more than a pile of dust.
“I’m willing to do what I can to help,” he said softly, finally breaking the silence. “Are you sure I didn’t step out into the wrong dimension?”
“I wish…” said Kate quietly. She tightened her fingers around the damp tissue in her hand, dried tears stained her cheeks making her skin feel sticky and taut. “I can hardly believe it myself, I mean… it’s Tash. I didn’t see her but…” Kate inhaled deeply, her breathing sounding shaky and uneasy. “If there was some other way to deal with all this… I wish there were some other way…”
Galen placed his hand over Kate’s supportively, squeezing gently. “The last thing Tash would have wanted would be for us to let her keep on living like this. She slayed her own brother remember? Patrick, when she found out he’d been turned. She hates… hated vampires so much, to be turned into one… She would want us to do this. I know it.”
After some of the things Vard-Lokkar and others at the Temple had said, part of Nikolai morbidly wondered if Vampire Tash acted out of some twisted form of self-loathing. “To actually become that which you hate the most would be a fate worse than death,” he tried to console her as much as convince himself that it had to be done.
“Galen’s right,” he finally said. “Tasha… would not to persist as a vampire. It is out of respect for Tasha that we should be willing to do this.”
“I know,” Kate agreed, her voice was still quiet but also resigned. She knew what they had to do, she had said as much to Daye last night. Still… the thought of hunting Tash… it made Kate’s skin crawl. And despite it being the ‘right thing’ who of them would be able to strike that final blow? Drive a wooden stake through Tash’s flesh into her heart, watch her fall and turn to dust?
Kate felt a cold chill creep down her spine. She had never killed anyone until two days ago, when Kate closed her eyes she still saw Tony’s face swimming in front of her, his blood dripping onto her skin, that last flicker of life shining through his eyes before it was extinguished.
“We’re meeting later today,” Kate forced herself to say. “At Alessa’s place.” She looked up at Nikolai and smiled weakly. “It’ll be good to have you there.”
Kate seemed a little more distracted than normal, and Nikolai resolved to ask her about it if a better opportunity presented itself. Somehow he suspected that having someone sitting next to you on the couch who resembled the visage of death would make one slightly unwilling to discuss new problems. “I’ll be there.”
Nikolai wondered how things would go at the meeting. He knew that he, at least, may well be able now of tracking and killing Tash… but what about the rest? Words of one of his instructors came back to him: The most interesting things about vampires is the quandary it represents to those who knew them in life.
“How is Daye taking it?” Nikolai asked. “It must be pretty tough on her, from everything you told me.”
“As you’d expect,” said Kate solemnly, even in her own mind she could picture Drew’s drained corpse lying on the floor of the hotel room. Though Daye had been able to control herself to some degree, Kate wondered how long it would last - but then would console her through her grief.
“She’s being strong, doing what she has to do,” Kate added hastily, surprised at her own bitterness towards Marcus - there was obviously something still there between the necromancer and her best friend no matter what they said. Daye’s first instinct had been to call Marcus for help, or to ensure his safety at the least and though Kate had no real reason to dislike Marcus she couldn’t help but feel betrayed on behalf of Drew.
“I don’t know how she’s going to cope with all this though. She said she’d help with what needed to be done, but I don’t think we should expect too much, if anything she’s going to be too clouded by emotion to react without putting herself in danger.”
Nikolai picked up on a bit of bitterness there, and wondered just how much had changed in the time that he was away. Still, what she said was true: no matter how well Daye was coping, she was likely to get herself killed – or even worse, turned as well. Matters would be difficult enough as it was on everyone, having to lose one companion twice.
Still, it could be the only way for her to get some measure of peace: to actually see Tash becoming a pile of dust. “I think you’re right. She might be tempted to do something rash.”
Kate nodded in agreement but her heart wasn’t really in it, having to hunt down Tash and put her to rest was just something else in a long line of terrible tragedies that they’d had to endure lately. Then after they’d killed Tash, they would mourn and bury Drew and… and then what? Wait for someone else to die probably. Kate sighed wearily.
“We’ll discuss it later this afternoon I guess,” she mumbled, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of her sweater. “I’m sorry, Nikolai, I wish that things could have been happier for your return.” Kate sighed again though this time her breath was edged
with relief. “I’m so glad that you’re here. Everything has been so crazy lately… ever since that night at Runyon Canyon… nothing has been the same, it’s like the world has gone mad.”
Though he thought that the world had actually been mad for quite a while, Nikolai did not say this. Kate seemed more in need of reassurance than anything else. A great weight hung on her shoulders, making life press down upon her.
“I’m still sorry that I had to go,” he reassured her. Truth be told, he felt kind of guilty going away and having all of this crap happen in his absence. “Though I know what you mean. There have been times, thinking back, when I wondered if the entire planet was sane. But now I’ve come to realize something, Katya: there can be no hope for us to restore it to sanity without some form of madness being present as well, and that same madness can be used to restore sanity to parts of the world.”
Kate smiled, though she didn’t always understand Nikolai’s philosophies she had missed the way he always sought to rationalise and understand the things that happened to them. At least somethings never changed.
“I’m just glad that you’re back now,” said Kate grimly, “talk about good timing.”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
June 22, 2007 2:45 PM
Longwood Estates
Kyle stood at the back of the room and watched as the White Hats started to arrive to the meeting. Darian had insisted in getting there early, and he had used the ride. Besides, he wanted to talk to Alessa alone.
Although Kyle felt he could trust most of the White Hats and fellow hangers-on, like himself he guessed, he still didn’t like letting everybody see his hand, so to speak. And this was something pretty personal for Alessa too, the Kaoshian didn’t think she would particularly want him blurting it all out in front of everybody.
Kyle pushed himself off from the wall he was leaning against and started making his way over to the hot demoness. They hadn’t talked much recently, and he felt kinda regretful about it but, hey, that’s life.
“Hey, Alessa.” He began, sliding neatly into her line of sight.
Alessa looked at the Kaoshian. She noticed the youth’s determined look and nodded at him; then she turned to say some last words to Donny before the meeting started. She took a look around, checking that everything was ok. Apart from Kyle and Darian, Kate and Galen were already there, with – amazingly – Nikolai in their tow. Ellis was talking with them. Satisfied that everything was as it should, she moved towards the demon, who was still waiting for her.
“Hey, Kyle,” she answered back, smiling tiredly and a little uncomfortably. She hadn’t seen him for too long, and she felt guilty about it. True, the kid was infuriating, but that wasnt an excuse. Apart from her promise to Cole, somehow she had come to care for his wellbeing. A little. A lot. Damn.
Kyle didn’t even notice the weariness or discomfort in Alessa’s smile and voice. He pushed on regardless. “Well, I…uh, I came across a little something I thought you might wanted to know about. A little Morris-related something…” He added, dropping his voice with a non-to-subtle nudge.
The demoness frowned. With all that had happened she had completely forgotten she had asked Kyle to keep her informed about Morris. Hell, she had completely forgotten Morris. But if Kyle wanted to talk to her about the vampire that could only mean bad news. At least the kid looked ok.
She sighed, taking a look around again. The place was slowly crowding, but the meeting was not starting yet. Ellis had gone out, surely to receive somebody else. Better this way, if she was to learn something about Morris she preferred to do it alone.
“What have you learnt?” she asked finally, walking the demon toward the balcony. They’d have more privacy there.
Following the demoness, Kyle waited until they were outside before he spoke again. “Kind of a long story, so I’ll give you the abridged version.” He took a deep breath. “Couple of nights ago now I was kidnapped by one of Morris’ accomplices, guy that goes by the incredibly fear-inspiring name of ‘John Walker’.” The demon paused for dramatic effect.
Alessa nodded, she remembered him talking about the whiskey vampire. “Yes, you told me about him. Do you say he’s with Morris now?” She looked at Kyle more closely, when his words fit into place, “kidnapped? Are you all right?”
Kyle smiled and looked down at himself, mockingly inspecting his body. “Yeah, I think so.” He looked back up and the smiled faded away. “That’s right, well, at least Walker did work for Morris. Now, I’m not so sure.” At Alessa’s questioning face he pressed on. “Again, keeping this short, I got busted out by a bunch of vamps who’s boss had a score to settle with Morris. A big fight in his hideout in town later, Morris vanishes, his notes and books are removed, his minions scattered and his bird is dust.” He let out a long breath.
Alessa chuckled, feeling silly for asking such a question. Of course Kyle was all right, or he wouldn't be standing in front of her. However, the lack of a catty response from him surprised her. The kid must be going soft... or starting to actually like her.
“Wait a minute, that’s too much info together...” She started to enumerate, pointing her fingers a the same time. “First, this whiskey-vampire kidnapped you. Second, somehow you escaped and got in league with Morris’ enemies... vampires too.” She waited for a second for Kyle’s nod of confirmation, then she went on. “Third, you all went and attacked Morris’ army? And won?”
“Yup, that’s exactly what happened.” Kyle answered with a self-satisfied smile.
“And you dusted Roxana too?” Alessa smiled coldly at Kyle’s nod and she pictured the vampiress in her mind’s eye. She felt surprised for the surge of satisfaction that raced through her. *You weren’t jealous of Roxana-bitch, were you?* she asked herself and shook her head, trying to shut the annoying inner voice. “Too bad you didn’t get him as well,” she added. That he had dissappeared was no surprise, she remembered his teleporting powers all too well.
She brushed her hair, and smiled again. It was good news, after all. Even if it confirmed Morris’ presence in LA. “Thank you, Kyle. I’m glad you are ok, must have been a hell of a fight.”
Kyle pursed his lips. “Yeah, you might say that. It was pretty tense let me tell you, but we got them in the end. After the kicking we gave him, Morris won’t try that again.” His typical bravado quickly came out again, and he didn’t even think of correcting Alessa on the fact that he hadn’t dusted Roxanna himself.
Alessa couldn't but smile at the Kaoshian’s tone. Chance, James and her had given Morris a good beating too, and he’d come for more anyway. However, she didn't say anything, she was just too relieved to know that his army had been decimated and that he had powerful enemies. She frowned.
“Who are these vampires? And their boss?” she asked.
Then Kaoshian frowned. “Uhh…they didn’t say who they were, except for their leader. She was called Robin. Not a bad fighter for a chick, I gotta admit.” At the look quickly forming on Alessa’s face he hurriedly continued.” But she’s said they worked for somebody who’s plans were foiled by Morris and wanted revenge. What was his name, what was his name…”
Hayden popped out of nowhere and whispered in his ear; “Valerian.”
Kyle snapped his fingers as if he came up with it himself. “That’s it! Valerian. Their leader said his name was Valerian.”
Alessa’s face reflected horror, Valerian! The image of the dashing vamipre as he had been at the Hyperion flashed before her eyes and she whistled.
Frowning at the whistle and flash of horror, Kyle cocked his head. Alessa looked pretty disturbed at the mention of the name and he wondered why. “You know him?”
“You could say so. He’s one of the remaining two Elders left after we kicked their asses at the Hyperion last year.”
“I can understand the grudge now, it was Morris’ research when he was alive that led to their downfall.” She frowned again, and whispered “let’s hope he doesn't learn my part in the whole thing too.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Kyle held up a hand. “Valerian is an Elder vampire?” Alessa nodded and Kyle let out a long breath. “Holy crap.”
Standing behind Alessa’s shoulder, Hayden’s jaw was still touching the floor. “Dude, you know what dis means? Ya were used man! By the bad guys, the big bad guys!”
Had he been used? Had he been working for, for all intents and purposes, the bad guys? But hadn’t taking down Morris been a good thing? “Okay, I’m confused; I helped the bad guys take down another bad guy…I can’t work out if that’s a good thing or not.”
Alessa’s mouth twitched as she suppresed a smile, Kyle having conscience pangs! The boy must be getting soft. “It’s a good thing. Let the bad guys kill each other, that only helps us. I’m just glad you didnt get caught in the middle.”
“Yeah, me too.” Kyle replied half-heartedly, still frowning. The idea of being used like that just didn’t sit well with him at all. He couldn’t place it because he hadn’t felt so…uncomfortable like this before. And he wasn’t particularly comforted by the fact Valerian had such an elite private army at his command, even if it had suffered casualties in the skirmish. Trying to shake it off, Kyle looked back up at Alessa. “Well, I guess we won’t have to worry about Morris for a while, right?”
She bit her lip, “I guess so... but he’s a tough one, although if Valerian is after him he may eventually find him. Hopefully he will.” She smiled, “we have a respite at least. Even if we now have confirmation of his being in LA.”
The demoness studied Kyle for a moment, doubtful. What she didn't like was for the Kaoshian to have gotten involved in that, he could have been caught in the middle. Sometimes she wondered if he didn’t have a death wish indeed.
“Did you give my offer any thougth Kyle?” she spurted at last. Having him at home wouldn't change him or prevent him from looking for trouble, but at least she’d know if he dissappeared or need help, or... whatever. *I owe it to Cole* she said to herself, although she knew she wasn’t offering her house because of that.
Snapped out of his reverie, it took Kyle a few moments before he realised what Alessa was talking about. “You mean about staying at yours?” He bit his lip. Did he really want to? He was pretty sure this woman would drive him insane but…they managed to have a friendly conversation now, right? Was she really all that bad? Kyle shook his head. Too many questions these days. Not enough answers.
Well, sooner or later Darian would get annoyed at him still crashing at his place, and he didn’t like to stay in one place for too long. What the Hell… “I’ll think about it. And I’ll get back to you.” He added.
“Fair enough,” Alessa nodded, she didn't want to push him. Besides Daye had already arrived with a strange man, it seemed that the meeting was starting at last. She started to move towards the French windows, but turned before entering the house.
“Thank you again, Kyle. This is very important to me.”
“Yeah.” Kyle responded, slowly. “Any time…”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Thursday, July 19 2007 – 6:00 AM
Youth Hostile
Benji shifted in his seat a bit while maintaining his awed silence.
“Tell me, Benji,” Rosie began in a low purr, “do you know why I have taken such interest in you?”
“Interest…in me?” Benji asked. He waited patiently for her explanation.
“It is because you exemplify my code, Benji. You are no one important, and as far as I can tell you have no great destiny ahead of you. But you know this. You simply live out your life as it comes. And you don’t let fate rule you…you make your own decisions. I admire that, to tell you the truth.”
“You mean with my toy?” Benji asked curiously, raising the eight-ball towards her.
“No!” Rosie burst, and slapped the back of her hand across his. The eight-ball sailed to the side of the room and scraped against the wall. “No. Bring it back here,” Rosie commanded with a snap of her fingers in the Magic Eight-ball’s direction.
Begrudgingly, Benji stood and walked over to his bauble. It was slightly scratched now, but nothing a new polish wouldn’t fix. His eyes met Rosie’s as he sat back down. “Geez. Sorry,” he said insincerely with a roll of his eyes.
“Not a toy,” Rosie explained, more gently this time. “A tool. it is a symbol, my boy. A symbol of your freedom to mark your own destiny, the destiny of your friends…”
Benji still cringed at that word. “My…friends…”
“Hell, even my destiny, Benji. Perhaps the destiny of vampires everywhere.” Rosie smirked.
Benji Law scoffed. “So, bottom line, you mean to say that there is no Master Plan. That all that is ‘fated’ is what we destine for ourselves.” Rose nodded. “And your saying that something as simple as this little black plastic ball of goo is the key to understanding your philosophy?”
Rosie smiled contently. “Now you get it.”
“Heh. It all makes sense. Strangely enough.”
“Strangely enough,” Rosie agreed.
Benji stirred from his seat before her and rose to the doorway. “So…what now?”
Rosie stood to see him out. “Now, where we go is up to you. I’m too old and crazy to lead the Black Veins. There are no Black Veins without a new leader. I’m handing the reins over to you, if you’ll take them.”
Benji jerked back from her. “Me? Uh, hello there. My name is Benji Law, and I’m not the responsible type if you didn’t know…”
“Seem responsible enough to me, the way you lead your two lapdogs around, but whatever.” ‘Lapdogs’. There was a more accurate word to describe Walt and Julia, in Benji’s opinion. Black Rosie went on. “If you don’t want the position, I’ll give you a few days time to find me someone who will. If you come back empty-handed, well then surprise! You’re it until someone better comes along or you die horribly.”
“Whichever comes first,” Benji acknowledged with a sarcastic grin.
“Just make me proud, you little punk,” Rosie growled playfully as she closed the creaky door behind the young vamp.
Benji emerged from the room to find Julia awaiting him in the hall. “Hey, Benj. Have a nice chat?” Benji began to speak, but Julia hushed him abruptly. “What she told you was for you alone,” she said in her best impersonation of Laurence Fishbourne.
Benji raised an eyebrow. “She pulled the same Matrix stuff on you two?”
“Yeah, earlier. I like, Benji, don’t get me wrong, but who does she think she is any—”
“Julia,” Benji interrupted, “you’ve gotta do me a favor.”
“It’s not an order, then?” she asked, still a little miffed at his earlier displays of power in the warehouse.
“For Walt it’s an order. From you I’m asking a favor. Ask around, see what you can find out about the major power players in our vampire community, all right?”
Julia nodded. “Yeah. Sure…um, why, exactly?”
Benji pulled her aside and began to tell her just what he had in mind.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Sunday, 22nd July 2007 – 11:15pm
Tash sniffed the scents on the warm night air. *This should be interesting,* she thought as she contemplated the dingy building before her. Having made her decision, she had waited until the place should be filling up before going. No point in hanging around for hours waiting for the right people to show their faces. Now she surveyed the familiar doorway and wondered how different it would seem to her now than when she’d been alive – and a hunter. Only one way to find out.
Lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders, she opened the door to Bob’s Bar and ventured inside. Swirling smoke and stale beer assaulted her nostrils, underscored with the tang of sweat and blood. Smiling a slow, secretive smile, Tash stepped further into the room, her gaze sweeping across the assorted vampires, demons and humans gathered within. Some familiar faces scowled at her – a reaction the living Tash was well used to. Some she didn’t recognise at all. Most ignored her.
Not Bob.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Tash. You know, I’ve had this thing up here for years, but nobody’s ever taken me up on it before.”
Tash glanced to the wall where Bob had gestured. Attached to it was a faded, tatty sign that she had seen before but paid little attention to. It read: Any regular who gets themselves vamped – first blood is free!
“So this one’s for you – on the house.”
Tash gazed for a long moment at the greasy bartender, then reached out and took the proffered glass. It was filled with a dark, viscous fluid and the coppery smell spoke to her newly-acquired tastes. For just a second she wondered how Bob had possibly found out about her death and rebirth. But this was Bob. The man always seemed to know what was going on before anyone else did. It might possibly make her job here easier, too, if any of Bob’s regulars had paid to hear this particular juicy bit of gossip already.
Tash shrugged. “It had to happen some time. Occupational hazard, you might say.”
She lifted the glass and smiled. When she spoke she was careful not to speak overly loudly, but made sure her voice was clear. Tash was gratified to hear the background noise level drop noticeably as she made her toast. “Thanks, Bob. Here’s to a bright, long future for the new me. A far cry from Natasha Brookes, vampire hunter, that’s for sure.”
A young vamp at the other end of the bar stirred. He pulled away from the uninteresting demon he was interrogating and snapped to attention. “Brookes? Brookes? Where was that?” he asked himself quietly. “Ah, I know...”
A sudden smile crossed his lips with satisfaction. “The Great Enemy.” Just as Rosie had told it, he realized. There really was a Natasha Brookes – she wasn’t just an urban legend. Benji Law wondered at the situation. If this vampire was who she claimed to be, then anything was possible.
He hopped off his stool and bellied up to the bar, a little closer to the dark-skinned vampire this time. “Get her another,” he grinned, tossing some money in Bob’s direction. “For such a special occasion, this one deserves a treat.”
Glancing speculatively at the young Asian vampire, Tash leaned against the bar with one elbow as she finished draining her first drink of blood. It was nourishing, but not nearly as good as blood fresh and warm and still spurting – not to mention the accompanying dish of fear and horror.
“Do I now?” she replied, “And why should you be the one to grant it to me?”
“Well,” Benji purred, “You are Natasha Brookes. The Natasha Brookes. And if you’ve come over to the Dark Side, well, let’s just say I want to be on your good side.” He picked up his own glass and took a long sip of O Positive.
Tash’s smile grew sardonic. Taking the proffered blood, she eyed the vamp from head to toe and back again. He certainly wasn’t terribly prepossessing. And he didn’t have that air of age about him. If nothing else, she wasn’t above accepting a drink from him even if she entertained the distinct possibility of snapping his neck in a few minutes’ time. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to find out what he wanted first.
“Well then, I thank you. Joining the ranks of the freshly undead, it’s handy to have a reputation that precedes me. But let’s cut to the chase. Who are you, and why should I care about your opinion?”
Benji smirked. “Honestly, you shouldn’t. I wouldn’t blame you if you turned and walked away, or did something even more impulsive. But, you see – and this is going to come off a bit corny – I’ve recently had a breakthrough. A revelation." He set his glass down, but kept facing the bar. He did not turn to her, and instead continued to explain himself. “Ever hear of the Black Veins?” he said suddenly.
Gazing at the young vampire’s profile, Tash bared her teeth. “You know who I am – was – so you must have heard some things. I’m sure you wouldn’t have brought up the Veins if you didn’t already know.” Turning to the bar, she set down her now-empty glass. “Of course, they were wiped out by the Brotherhood last year. If any of them are left, they’re simply pathetic remnants.”
“Funny thing. One of those ‘pathetic remnants’ had an awful lot to say about you.” Benji spun on his stool and faced Natasha now. “And I got to thinking about how much we – the Veins – could benefit from your talents. See, the last Veins have a cute little name for you. ‘Great Enemy’ is the term. What better strategy than to turn an enemy to your cause? Even vampires can benefit from strategy, don’t you think Miss Brookes?”
Benji had a devilish gleam in his eye, almost passionate. Where was the removed Benji who’d taken up residence in Youth Hostile so long ago? The vampire paused, and rested his cheek on his hand.
“Bob, stop pretending you’re not listening and c’mere.”
At Tash’s summons, Bob edged warily closer to the pair. Human Tash had always played straight with him, but he knew all too well the vile tempers a vampire could loose. He cleared his throat. “Yeah?”
“Tell me, are the Black Veins recruiting again?”
Bob shuffled and glanced nervously at Benji. “Well, I dunno. I might be able to tell you something if the price-”
“Bob,” Tash cut in softly, her voice pitched low and menacing, “Consider this snippet a favour for old times’ sake. Just tell me.”
“Uh, well, that is, I’ve heard rumours here and there-”
Bob let out a sharp yelp as Tash’s hand shot out and pinned his wrist to the bar at a painful angle. She smiled up at him sweetly, looking at him for the first time during the whole exchange. What he saw in her eyes loosened his tongue.
“Yes,” he babbled, “Yeah, some of them are trying to get back to the old ‘glory days’. They’re enlisting new guys, like Benji here…”
“Thank you, Bob.” Tash let go of the hapless man and turned to the vampire beside her. “Benji, huh? So, I’m the ‘Great Enemy’. Hmph. Imagine that. I’d have thought Dathan would have been the one to earn that title. After all, I only killed a handful of the Veins.” The smile she flashed Benji was bright, but held no warmth. “Of course, he’s dust now, so I suppose there’s little to be gained from having a ‘Great Enemy’ who’s dead.”
Benji nodded. “The Veins are only into practical vendettas. What the Old One did to the Black Veins hurt, but you were devastating, Natasha. You made it hurt intimately. This is why Rosie holds you in such high esteem as a foe.”
Benji scratched his chin. “Truth be told, I’ve got a few… well, ‘friends’ for lack of a better term, who hold you as a mythic figure. I won’t trouble you to ask for autographs.” He took another swig of his drink. “This new wrinkle is just icing on the cake. With your experience, your raw power, our success is pre-destined.”
Snorting in derision, Tash raised one eyebrow. “Let me guess – you’re going to rule L.A. and build a gang that’s even stronger than the old one. I’m thinking this ‘Rosie’ of yours, whoever she is, is short a few cards in her deck. This is Los Angeles – it hasn’t been too kind to vampires in the past couple of years, you may have noticed.”
“Look, Miss Brookes,” Benji shot back, “Maybe I gave you the wrong idea – my fault entirely.” He raised his hands in agreement. “But let me try this again. I don’t know if we’ll rule L.A. – I’m sure that’s what Rosie has in mind, but not me. See, I just go where I’m supposed to go. No pretensions otherwise. I do what I’m meant to do, and at this time I’m meant be with the Veins.” Solemnly, he looked in the woman’s eyes. “Now, forgive me for being presumptuous, but I think you’re meant to be, too.”
“Meant to be,” Tash echoed. “Why, exactly? I’m well known; I have a reputation. Why should I join some has-been gang when I could just start my own and call the shots instead of kowtowing to some wacko chick?” She crossed her arms and paused, a speculative look crossing her features. “Of course, depending on how many vampires she’s got together so far…” Tash’s words trailed off as she continued her speculation silently. If she met this Rosie it might be possible to gauge whether she could just take over a ready-made gang rather than build one up from scratch. That is, if she decided to stay.
“You know, kid, the only way to survive in this town the way it is today is to have some sort of power base. Solo vampires tend to get swallowed up. The White Hats,” Tash spat the name with derision, “are only one of the dangers here.” She leant towards Benji, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not saying I’m agreeing to anything. And I’m sure as hell not thinking that anything is ‘meant to be’. But it might be worth a look, at least. And if Rosie holds me in such high regard, won’t she get a shock to see me on her doorstep?” Tash laughed, the sound rolling through the noisy bar.
Benji smiled lightly and then raised an eyebrow. “Just a second,” he told her. From a small pouch hanging at his side he pulled a small toy; his magic eight-ball, newly polished but still scratched from where Rosie had thrown it across the room. He picked the toy up and shook it by his ear. “It’s my little oracle,” he told her flippantly. “So let’s ask it. Will Miss Natasha Brookes lead the Black Veins to glory?” He finished shaking the toy. “Defintiely”, came the reply on the bubble window. “See. Now, doesn’t that at least give you a little curiosity?”
Tash started at the eight-ball, then at Benji. In a way it was kind of sweet. He was so young; so earnest, and it was cute that he relied on such a frivolous device. It was the sort of thing that would awaken the maternal instinct in any woman’s breast. Except, of course, Tash was no longer really a woman in that sense. She certainly had nothing resembling a maternal instinct left in her.
“No, not really,” she replied blandly, dismissing the toy with a wave of her hand. “Given that your Rosie doesn’t even know of my current condition yet I think you’re taking rather a lot on yourself, especially for a new recruit. Go on, go talk to her and set up a meeting. I’ll be here for a little while yet.”
Benji put his eight-ball away, almost feeling embarrassed. “I will, Miss Brookes. We’ll be in touch,” he said quietly. After throwing a few coins down on the counter, the young vampire sulked off through the patrons and out of Bob’s place. “The eight-ball should've got to her,” he mused on the way back to YH. “Don't know what went wrong there...”
Shaking her head as Benji disappeared into the night, Tash turned her attention back to the bar and the other patrons. Maybe something would come of the Black Veins thing, maybe not. She just wished she could read vampires the way she could humans – it had always irked her as a hunter, too. Negotiations were always tougher without any telepathic cues. If the conversation she’d just had was any indication, though, she might not have such a tough time inserting herself into the vampire hierarchy after all.
A large, meaty hand thumped onto her shoulder. “Natasha Brookes,” a voice growled. “I see someone finally got you. About time you got yours, you little bitch.”
Then again, it could just turn out to be a long night.
The Seal of Approval - Part 1 (A Pentacles and Cups Story)
*** July 22nd, 7:50 pm ***
The stocky man removed his bowler hat and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. Next to him, the thin attractive girl in the denim shorts and barely-there t-shirt was fastening her tool belt around her slim waist. "Put on your hard hat, Mr. Cups. Safety first!"
Mr. Cups looked at the hard plastic yellow hat and at the bowler still in his hand. "Must I, Miss Pentacles?" he whined, "It isn't as if there is anything here that is going to hurt me."
She took his hat from him and bent down as lewdly as possible to gather up the hard-hat. She brushed it off, and in the process it turned dark grey. "There, see? But you have to wear it because if we are seen without proper safety gear, then someone might get suspicious."
"Oh agreed, but it seems all so-"
"You were going to say 'childish to play dress-up' weren't you?" she pouted, thrusting out her lip and placing her hands petulantly on her hips.
"No, I…Now wait a minute. Don’t you put words in my mouth! I have no idea where they've been! Harumph!"
Mr. Cups and Miss Pentacles were standing outside the chain-link fence that surrounded the historic and now quite nearly toppled Hyperion Hotel. The side-garden entrance had a fire-engine shaped hole in it and the front foyer had a 'magical explosion that would wipe out an entire line of vampires'-sized crater in it. Overall, the entire building was structurally similar to a pile of charcoal briquettes.
The chain link fence was locked and there was a large sign that alluded to the fact that the City of Los Angeles could not be held responsible if you were stupid enough to trespass on this site. This had not stopped people from doing just that, mind you. There was Jimmy Green who had climbed the fence on a dare by Billy Utter. Jimmy was currently floating face-down in the pool in the basement having stepped on a loose floorboard from the ballroom floor directly above it.
And there was the vampire known as Hope. She was a pile of dust in an upstairs room. She had come here to avoid the sun, but had not accounted for the nearly invisible crack in the wall that let sunlight shine on the bed first thing in the morning.
There was the dog, Spot, who had been eaten by rats. A demon named jur-jar was lying in a green puddle of bodily fluids where another demon named Frak had decided he looked too much like a nightmare he'd once had and caved in his skull. Everything that came here died. And on top of that, the city wasn't taking responsibility for it.
Once upon a time they had tried to renovate. It was an historic building and there was money for that. Forty cases of workman's compensation, two lawsuits for wrongful death, and fifteen cases of PTSD later, they shut it down. The Hyperion was unfixable. They'd have to wait for it to either fix itself or fall down (whichever came first).
Mr. Cups tugged at the padlocked gate. "It is locked, Miss Pentacles. Do you have a key?"
Miss Pentacles made a grunting noise behind him, "Nope, Mr. Cups, I have something better – a tool."
She pulled the bolt cutters from her tool belt with a flourish and cut the lock. The chain sang musically as it slithered to the ground. Miss Pentacles opened the doors wide and made a flourish. Once inside, she carefully closed the gate and wrapped the chain around the latch.
Mr. Cups was fascinated, "Why are you closing the gate, Miss Pentacles?"
"So nobody gets hurt, Mr. Cups. Safety first!"
Cups just shook his head and scowled at the unfamiliar weight of the hardhat. The two entered the building gingerly. Looking about, Miss Pentacles was the first to say something.
"It is dark, Mr. Cups."
"Yes, Miss Pentacles, isn't there a tool to fix that?"
Miss Pentacles fumbled with her tool belt and a beam lanced from the flashlight as she turned it on. "Tee hee," she giggled, "I forgot."
The two of them wandered a bit pausing to admire the complete devastation of the ballroom. Clearly powerful magic had been used and an awe-inspiring battle had been fought. From the edge of the crevice that now yawned into darkness Mr. Cups peered into the deep. "Miss Pentacles, would you be a dear and shine your torch on that," he said while pointing into the stygian gloom.
She swiveled the flashlight into the darkness and a glossy eye in the spotlight blinked and retreated into the dark. "I think we need to inspect the basement," Cups said with uncharacteristic excitement, "Does this place have stairs?"
Pentacles walked with macho swagger over to the doorway to the stairwell. As she opened the door, the floor beneath her collapsed and she disappeared beneath the floor. A succession of 'oofs!' and expletives echoed up from below. Cups looked into the hole. Her light shone up through the unstable wreckage. "Watch out for that first step, Mr. Cups. Safety – oof – first!"
Cups bypassed the hole and walked with caution down to meet her at the bottom. Miss Cups had brushed off the worst of the dust and was now checking her lipstick in a hand-held mirror while holding the flashlight between her knees.
"Miss Pentacles, you look simply wolf-whistle-worthy. Unfortunately the dust has caked my whistle for the moment. Can we get back to work? I think we may have just hit the jack-"
A swarm of tentacles erupted from the far room beneath the garden. Grasping and pulling, it dragged Cups and Pentacles towards the dark doorway. Eyes on stalks peered out and mouths jabbering in madness spouted the foul names of the hell dimensions which spawned it.
"In the name of the Senior Partners!' spouted Pentacles as she pulled out a chainsaw and began to hack off the limbs that snatched at her legs.
"Language, Miss Pentacles," admonished Cups even as he hacked off limbs with a sharp axe that he had withdrawn from his satchel.
The two managed to hew and push the creature behind the door until they could slam it shut and take a moment to recover.
"I think our journey is at an end, Miss Pentacles. Are you ready to proceed?" Cups opened his satchel and pulled out a series of 16 pie-slice shaped pieces of metal.
"Mr. Cups, I am not only ready, but I am most eager. This job has cost me nearly my entire wardrobe budget." Pentacles reached to her belt and withdrew a hammer and a handful of sparkling silver rivets.
Mr. Cups smiled. He too had accrued expenses on this journey. It had been difficult to pin down the site of the loci in a large city like Los Angeles, but this was clearly the evil they had been seeking on behalf of the senior partners. This was the job they had been sent to do.
"Then prepare yourself, Miss Pentacles, to replace the Seal of Danthazar."
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
*** July 22nd, 8:30 pm ***
Mr. Cups sat in an uncharacteristically slovenly pile. Miss Pentacles was covered in gore and leaning, exhausted, on a pile of tentacle bits that were still twitching slightly. Mr Cups held his hand over the raw wound at his throat so he could talk in a gurgling voice, "Miss Pentacles, are you going to be all right? We aren't quite done you know."
"In a moment, Mr. Cups. I'm still waiting for the bones to knit in my leg. I think the venom in my am is going to burn a while longer."
Cups nodded. He estimated a 'while longer' to be the better part of the next decade judging from the dose and the beast that had delivered it. In all of his millennia of service as surveyor, inspector, and agent of Wolfram and Hart he'd never encountered a beast of that level of meanness. Wherever had happened in Sunnydale to close the Hellmouth had certainly pissed off the guardian beast for the portal more than a little.
He glanced over at the Seal of Danthazar now nestled in the earthen floor of the small chamber in the basement. The runes on the walls had sealed this place temporarily. Some previous inhabitant no doubt had prepared this as a conjuring chamber. It had been a masterful job that had kept the guardian beast from rending the building above until Pentacles and he had in unwittingly opened it.
"Lucky, Miss Pentacles. We got very, very lucky," Mr. Cups said, punctuating it by spitting a wad of twisted mucus on the floor from his savaged throat.
Miss Pentacles stood tentatively and hobbled over to help Mr. Cups to his feet. She picked up the cracked hardhat and handed it to the tweed-clad gentleman. "Wow, Safety first, indeed." She said in a low voice.
Mr. Cups chuckled, "As always, Miss Pentacles, you were right and I am grateful for your attention to detail. Now let us get to work."
The two climbed out of the darkness of the basement to the street above. The lights of Los Angeles illuminated them in a golden glow as they paced out the perimeter of the fence surrounding the Hyperion. Once satisfied that the fence-line was unbroken they went back and numbered the posts using ancient and arcane symbols. Onto the base of each post they poured a mixture of sand and powdered metals. Wind from the passing cars blew small dust devils which bounced around inside the enclosure but that shyly refused to leave the surrounding corral.
Once back at the front gate, Mr. Cups withdrew a brass lantern. Miss Pentacles made an excited giggle behind him and he turned to see her dressed in Arab veils and diaphanous cloth. "Miss Pentacles, I suggest a less revealing costume for this iffrit. The passions of these creatures are well known and I would hate to see you injure yourself further – or worse yet, injure the iffrit – while attempting to spurn his advances."
She pouted again, "But you can't look sexy in a burkha!" she complained.
Cups was stern, "Nevertheless, I suggest something conservative for our friend's arrival. He's been cooped up in here a long time."
"Fuddy duddy" she said under her breath as she changed her outfit to a smart (but sexy) business suit.
Cups rubbed the lamp a few times and invoked a name before uncorking the brass flask. Smoke billowed out from the bottle and cars along the road honked and skidded as people reached for cell phones to call the fire department.
The billowing smoke formed a plume 30 feet tall which separated into legs and arms. Red skinned muscles rippled on the dark haired man who towered over Mr. Cups and Miss Pentacles. "Who dares call the mighty Al Abrib du Abrhim from the City of Brass to this smelly and noisy land!"
Mr. Cups held out a hand. "My card," he said politely.
The Iffrit snatched it from Cups' grasp and peered at it. He sighed in defeat. "I knew I should have just beheaded my brother rather than suing him," he grumbled deflating until he was only nine feet tall.
"You have one wish. This is the bargain. One wish and then I am done with the Wolf, Ram and Hart and their jackals. Even the comely ones," the Iffrit said winking at Pentacles.
"Wink at me like that again, Bottle Boy, and you will be wishing for death when I am done with you," she said playfully.
"Oh she has fire! I like her," the Iffrit said to Cups, "Is she for sale?"
"Esteemed Abrib du Abrhim, do you remember why you sued your brother?" Cups said reaching into his satchel.
"In the name the prophet (holy is his name), you wouldn't," said the iffrit in a voice filled with real fear.
"With pictures, sahib," said Cups handing over a package of papers. "In that sheaf is the exact wording for the wish complete with all possible loopholes and reality-twisting paradoxes fixed. It is non-negotiable."
The iffrit started to complain then gave up before he even started. It was pointless to argue with lawyers. "Can you summarize this for me? I am rusty with my letters." He said burning the sheaf for spite.
Cups recited from memory. He always prepared a script when dealing with wish-giving creatures. "This building is to be switched with the office building at 0202 W. Washington Blvd. The current reality is to be adjusted to make everyone remember this building as always having been there, and that building to have always been here. Both buildings are to be restored completely and none of the protective magic that holds these places is to be disturbed."
The iffrit was not impressed, "Oh is that all. I thought this was going to be hard," he said with sarcasm, "I think I'd rather be in debt to those legislative, double-dealing, mind twisted - " he ran out of insults because he ran out of oxygen since Pentacles had grabbed him in a choke hold.
"Do it bottle-boy or I snap you like a Slim Jim and start over with another bottle of attitude."
Abrib du Abrhim licked his lips, "Are you sure she isn't for sa-gurk!"
When Pentacles relaxed slightly, he agreed. It was pointless to fight. These servants of the lawyers held all the cards, but it did not soothe his anger at being made to serve in this way. His brother who was permanently not enjoying his marriage to Abrib's ex-wife would have appreciated the irony of his discomfort.
Al Abrib du Abrhim swelled to terrifying heights and lifted the building in one hand. He flew to the site of the old Wolfram and Hart building and lifted it with the other hand. Soon the buildings were switched. Like a blaze he flew through the building making changes and tweaking décor to set things exactly as they had been. He replaced carpeting and vases of flowers.
Cups of coffee were placed delicately back on desks and papers strewn identically. Spells laid with meticulous care were equally meticulously peeled up and re-affixed to the opposite locations. Keys, locks, and landmarks were re-arranged.
Then people were each visited in the night – having their memories rearranged to account for the changes. Millions had passed those buildings on their drives each day or on trips to visit L.A. and had to have changes made. Personal photographs, satellite photos, and videotapes all were altered.
The world had been changed subtly. Only a few might ever know it, but Abrib was a master in this. Reality was his plaything. He could alter any reality but his own, which is why he could never manage to snake out of this humiliating obligation. As the dawn began to come Abrib settled on the terraced steps of the Wolfram & Hart building at 4121 Wilshire Blvd where as far as anyone could remember, there had always been an office building.
Abrib panted with the effort. Moving things was easy, but memories could be tough. Nothing was harder than changing a woman's mind when she did not want it to be changed. His brother would attest to that.
Pentacles tossed a button onto the hopscotch squares she had drawn on the sidewalk. She hoped and counted then bent over to pick up the button, strategically aiming her rear for maximum visibility.
Abrib looked at Cups who shrugged, "You have fulfilled your contract but you cannot harm us in retribution nor any of the firm or its employees."
Abrib snarled, "I don't want to harm her, really. I promise I won't leave any marks."
"As long as she is home at a decent hour, I can't really complain. Besides, I think she may have some vacation time coming up."
Pentacles tossed her button the other way and whirled on one foot. She said to Abrib, "Care to play?"
Cups walked down to collect her button which the two had left behind in their hurry to go "on vacation". He placed it in his pocket and strolled back down the street. He would wait patiently until his next job to come back again. Somehow, he expected that Miss Pentacles might have recovered enough to play again by that time.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Monday, 23rd July 2007 – 12:10am
Smoke drifted through the dim, noisy room in a soft blue haze. Wisps of it curled in the air, caught in the currents between warm hands and cool glasses. A tendril of it wafted past the features of the woman holding court on one side of the room. She absently waved a hand before her face as though to fend it off, though her unbreathing body no longer required the oxygen that the smoke replaced. To those gathered around her, the gesture was nothing more than an embellishment to her words.
“So that’s the best way to neutralise her. In fact, in general that’ll work for both the witches. And right now they’re not as tight-knit as they usually are. Kate especially still harbours quite a bit of ill-feeling from the whole Hyde thing. Not, mind you, that you should think they won’t help each other out if they’re threatened. But that animosity is another weakness that could possibly be exploited in the right circumstances.”
Tash surveyed those around her, most with their eyes shining with the light of new plots hatching. “Now,” she said, “who else would you like to know about?”
As they threw their suggestions out, Tash let her gaze travel out to the centre of the room. Bob’s staff had already cleaned up much of the devastation. The fight had erupted when those who wanted a piece of ‘Natasha Brookes’ found themselves facing the demons and vampires who had worked out that she would have some valuable information to impart. More importantly, that she’d be more likely to impart it now that she was ‘one of them’.
The scuffle had been brief but violent, with the end result being that Tash now had a corner of the bar staked out for herself where she repaid her supporters by feeding them tidbits about the White Hats. The remnants of her attackers had either left or were sulking on the far side of the room. That is, apart from the handful who had drifted to the back ranks of the circle around her, the promise of intelligence about the enemy outweighing their stubborn desire for revenge.
Tash’s attention was drawn back to her entourage as an argument broke out with the demons on one side and the vampires on the other.
“She’s good to us. We have no reason to fight her.”
“Hey, she kills our kind!”
“Quiet!” The argument stilled at Tash’s order and the two halves settled into an uneasy truce again.
“Reah is a tricky subject. I’m betting none of you really know why she’s so tough to fight. Oh yeah, most of you have seen the claws, but wait’ll you hear about the rest of it. You see, she got sucked through this time portal thingy, and spent quite a bit of time in the future. She’s got cybernetic muscle implants, enhanced vision...”
Expressions of expectancy turned to puzzlement as Tash suddenly stopped speaking and stood. “However, I’m afraid that’s all I have time for tonight. I have a prior appointment. But remember – safety in numbers when dealing with those goody two-shoes. Until they’re destroyed, we’re all better off sticking together.”
Murmurs of assent followed her as she made her way serenely past her audience and met the vampire who had just entered the bar, looking around until he spotted her. She walked right up to him and stood before him with a strange smile.
“So, Benji, are we on?”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Monday, 23rd July 2007 – 12:20am
Bob’s was packed tonight, Benji realised. Even before opening the door, the rush of smoke and booze-spiked blood was overwhelming. But he had one goal in mind – find Natasha Brookes and bring her back to Youth Hostile. With the ex-huntress heading up the new Black Veins, Los Angeles was as good as theirs. That was why he had to bring her in on their operation – it was too great an opportunity to pass up.
Of course, Rosie wouldn’t hear of that. Benji knew it, and he was sure Walt and Julia would agree with him if he’d let them in on the progress of his recruitment. If Benji could just explain it to her the way he saw it, all would be right. It would work for sure, Benji felt, as long as he stuck to his guns and sold Rosie on the idea. It was simply meant to be. From the corner of his eye, a sleek and dark figure approached. Apparently he wouldn’t need to seek her out. She was ready and waiting.
Feeling more secure now that her mixed welcome at Bob’s had turned out to be relatively positive, Tash was now more inclined to go with Benji’s proposal. The fact that he’d returned indicated that at least the surviving Black Veins hadn’t torn him limb from limb for daring to suggest that their ‘Great Enemy’ – Tash had to smile at that moniker – be the one to take the reins. She sashayed up to him and stood before him, regarding him steadily.
“So, Benji, are we on?”
Benji smiled welcomingly. “It’s all set up. I’ll take you to meet with Rose Bellwether, and it’s ultimately up to her. But of course she’ll accept you. I’ll make sure of it.”
Benji opened the door for Tash, then stood hesitantly on the other side. For a moment, he almost extended his arm, like he was escorting a prom date. “Um…” After a moment of fidgeting, he put his arm down at his side. “Just- just follow me,” he said decisively. He started to step away from the bar and led ahead.
Tash fell into step beside Benji as he led her towards a van parked on the street. As she settled into the passenger seat, Tash cleared her throat. “Before we get to this place, there are some things I’d like to know. For instance, how many of the original Veins are still here? And how many new recruits have they got so far? And this Rose we’re going to see – howcome she won’t lead them herself? I’m sure there must be someone in the group already capable of taking charge or they wouldn’t have got this far.”
Benji gulped. “Hoh-kay there, Natasha – may I call you Tash?” Benji talked fast as he hopped behind the large wheel of his van – his stolen van. “There aren’t many Veins at all. Aside from Rosie, only a scattered handful survive, so she says. I suspect it’s less. Hell, no other Vein has dared to show his bumpy face; so far as I can tell she’s it – the last of the Black Veins. My people have been on a recruiting drive, though, so I expect a sizable flux in men,” Benji explained. “And women, of course,” he added diplomatically.
He put the keys in, but did not turn the motor on. “The official tally isn’t in yet. There’s supposed to be an official count once I get back, but I expect good things,” he informed her with a confident nod. “As for Rosie – and other persons of leadership calibre – it’s complicated. Remember that whole thing about purpose, and belonging? She doesn’t think she’s meant to lead. But she did have someone else in mind for the job…”
Tash eyed Benji speculatively. “Really? Anyone I know?” she asked coquettishly. Benji’s uncomfortable look said it all and she laughed. “I get it. You don’t fancy putting yourself on the spot so you went off to find someone else who could fill the position, is that it?”
Benji stared out the through the windshield. “Don’t get me wrong. Being the head honcho sounds nice, but now’s not the time. I can put my own ambition aside for the good of the gang. There’ll be time for macho posturing after we conquer Los Angeles. Count on it.” With a flick of his thin wrist Benji brought the van to life. “It isn’t too far, at least not with this old thing. But when we get there you may have to wait outside while I, err, explain things. All right?”
“Explain things? I thought that was what you’d done already.” Tash turned her head and regarded Benji fully. When she spoke her voice held a hint of ice. “You didn’t tell her who I was, did you?”
Benji’s foot pressed down on the gas and the van sailed over the crest of a steep hill. “She wouldn’t have seen you if I told her. And if I did tell her in advance, it would only give Rose the opportunity to attempt something rash. I’ll explain to her just why we need you with us in terms she can understand. I can make her understand, Miss Brookes,” Benji insisted, taking his eyes from the road to stare earnestly into Natasha’s eyes.
“Call me Tash,” she said absently as she absorbed this piece of news. “So is there any particular reason this Rose might resent me? Apart from the fact that I staked two of the three leaders of the Veins a couple of years back, that is. Or is it just that she has her heart set on you being her blue-eyed boy?”
“Her sire,” Benji said casually as the vehicle turned a particularly twisty corner. “Her name was Ebony, and you killed her. It wasn’t just that you killed Rose’s leader – you killed a part of Rose herself.” Benji swerved around some parked cars and continued straight ahead. “You see it now, right? There’s our challenge.”
Benji didn’t like going over that detail in his mind. The difficulty of getting Rose to let bygones be bygones, forgive and forget, was extremely high. But could the value of a sire really cloud Rose’s judgement that much? Benji didn’t even know his sire, and he had turned out all right, he thought.
Tash chuckled. “Ebony. Yes, I remember her. She was my very first Black Vein kill. Tree branch to the heart, if I remember correctly.” She relented at Benji’s continued dour expression. “Of course, that was in another lifetime. I’m sure Rose is aware of the distinction between the old me and the new me.” Tash grinned, her teeth flashing white against her dark face, and she let her fangs lengthen slightly as emphasis. “But worrying about it isn’t going to help. Just get us there and we’ll deal with her as she comes. Who knows, maybe she won’t take it as badly as you think.”
*Or it could be much worse,* Benji thought with a sigh. Things just weren’t going to go his way, he could tell. He had a feeling now. But it was only a slight disturbance. Soon his plans would be back on track.
After a few more reckless turns and many long and awkward minutes later, the dilapidated silhouette of Youth Hostile loomed before them. “This is the place, Tash, soon to be our base of operations. It ain’t much, that’s for sure, but definitely off the radar of LA’s vampire hunters. So in that respect it’s perfect for us.” The engine shut off and the pilfered van shuddered to a stop in the small tenement’s side alley.
Benji stepped out from the driver’s seat and cautiously approached the steps. “You can come in once I make sure she’s not downstairs. Just – and I feel stupid even as I say this – be careful.” He ascended the three steps that lead to the front door and entered.
Tash spent the couple of minutes afforded by Benji’s absence to look around the outside of the building. At four storeys tall it loomed over the closed-down shops beside it. The dark, grime-encrusted windows seemed to stare blindly, except for the couple that were boarded up. A rusty, mostly-disintegrated fire escape hung at crazy angles from the wall. All in all, it looked like a perfect vampire hang-out, especially for those that didn’t mind feeding off the homeless and the squatters.
But it was a far cry from the elegance of the Hyperion Hotel on West Washington, where the Brotherhood had established their base. If she were to take on the leadership of this group, once the White Hats were dealt with they’d have to look into upgrading their accommodations.
As Benji set foot inside YH, Julia leapt out at him. Walt wasn’t far behind, naturally. “Benji!” Julia laughed. “How was your search? Anyone interesting tonight?”
“Um… no, Julia. Say, is Rose down?”
Julia chattered on. “We got two more tonight, Benj – that’s nine in all.”
Walt chimed in eagerly. “Yeah, just two tonight – twins, coincidentally – but they seem pretty cool. A few more are interested though.”
“Yeah, that’s great,” Benji stammered blankly.
“Tell him about that one lady,” Julia urged Walt.
“No! Lay off!” Walt grumbled.
Julia snapped to attention and into giddy story-telling mode. “Ooh! Walt came on to this slutty psycho lady-vamp. Of course, on closer inspection she wasn’t a lady at all…”
“Yes. Quite disturbing,” Benji said abruptly. “Julia, listen to me. Is Rosie downstairs or in her room?”
“In – inside her room, Benji. What’s up?”
Benji began to turn back to the front door. “I’m going to bring someone in here-”
“A candidate?” Walt grunted with some anticipation.
“Just – don’t act like fools, ’kay?” Benji instructed the pair.
“What?” Julia asked.
“He means pretend we’re not us,” Walt clarified with a smirk, and walked towards the worn-out living room couch.
Benji poked his head out and called out to Tash. "All clear," he announced.
Tash broke off her survey of the neighbourhood and stepped beneath the portal of the vampire hideaway. She glanced at a scruffy-looking pair of young vampires sprawled on a couch and then flicked her eyes back to the front. “Some of your recruits?” she ventured.
“The first,” Benji explained. “As you can see, there was room for improvement,” he told her in a whisper.
Tash could only agree with him on that.
Benji continued, “Now, I'm going right up. You can come as well, just, umm – no sudden movements, I guess.” The young vampire started up the creaking staircase with a sense of dread, blended with an air of confidence. Whatever happened next was out of his hands, at least for the time being.
Curious as to how Benji planned to mollify Rose when she saw who he’d brought with him, Tash ascended after him. It was clear he was highly nervous about the upcoming meeting, which made her wonder just how much Rose hated the old, living version of Natasha Brookes. It would be fun to find out, Tash decided. When they reached their destination, she stood to one side as Benji prepared to knock, positioning herself so she wouldn’t be seen right away by the room’s occupant.
The door creaked open, and Benji found the room incredibly dark. He peered into the shadows and saw Rose Bellwether, just where he’d left her. “Rose…”
The deep, rich voice answered back. “Brought someone to me, have you?” She coughed as a puff of cigarette smoke fluttered into the hall. “Boy or girl? Not that it matters.”
“Uh, girl,” Benji explained, and he turned back to Tash, nodding to show that he meant no disrespect.
“Ahh. Well, you think I’ll like her, kid?” Rosie said.
Benji couldn’t see her face, but he could sense a smile. “I think you’ll come to appreciate her,” Benji stated.
“Carefully chosen words, kid. Good job. Send her in.”
Benji stepped back into the hall and gestured cautiously for Tash Brookes to enter the old vampire’s quarters.
Her face carefully impassive, Tash stepped into the doorway and stood there a moment, framed in the dim hallway light, before she stepped over the threshold. The shadows had wrapped themselves around the figure within, but vampire sight quickly adjusted. She faced Rose Bellwether squarely and spoke. “Hello Rose. Benji tells me you already know my name.”
Rose lifted herself from her chair and stared at her visitor in the eye. There was a long pause after rising, but Rose’s stare never wavered.
Just outside the door Benji looked on. *It’s about to hit the fan,* he told himself with slight worry. *I’d better step in…* Before he could speak, Rose cut him off.
“So, this is your candidate?” she asked him with a steely tone.
“Rosie, just hear me out…” Benji tried to continue, but Rose motioned him to shut up.
“I sort of want to hear what this one has to say, kid. Woman to woman, vamp to vamp. Go on, Miss Brookes. Explain yourself.”
Tash put her hands on her hips. “For one thing, I’m nobody’s ‘candidate’, thanks very much. Benji approached me with an offer. I’m just here to look you over. For another thing: what’s to explain? You’re one of the last surviving members of an old vampire gang who’s looking for someone to provide a firm hand for the ragtag you’ve collected. I have to tell you, if those two down there are any indication, you’ve got a long way to go.”
Tash knew she was playing with fire, but if this old bitch wanted to have a piece of her because of her past, best to push her to get it out in the open now. It was certainly preferable to having Rose put on a seemingly-friendly front only to backstab her later on. In anger, at least Rose would show her true colours.
Rose’s eyes grew large and her nostrils flared in anger. She stomped right up to Tash and released a low growl. In one swirling motion, Rose pulled a chair from a few feet away and set it down in front of her armchair. “Fair enough.” She sank back to her chair and leaned back. “Have a seat.”
For a moment Tash almost lost her composure. This seemed too easy. But she adjusted the position of the chair slightly and then sat in it gracefully, adopting a relaxed posture. She could sense Benji hovering nearby, but didn’t so much as glance in his direction, instead keeping her gaze firmly locked with Rose’s.
She spoke evenly, “I hear you have nine recruits so far. I take it that includes Benji and the pair I saw downstairs. Nine is not a large gang. If you want to survive in this town, you’re going to need numbers.”
Rose shook her head. “Not by far. If we had more competent recruiters, then maybe we’d have some progress.” She glared at Benji, who could only offer a relaxed shrug in return. “Still, while it’s nowhere near what we had in the old Veins – even you can attest to that – it should be fine to start with. Quality over quantity this time ’round.”
“Quality? You mean like those two kids downstairs?” Tash shook her head. “I’ve been a vampire two days, and I’ve already found half a dozen potential followers with more brass than they’ll ever have. I can only hope your other recruits are more like your boy Benji here, otherwise we’re just wasting each others’ time.”
Without missing a beat, Rosie retorted with a forced smile and a quiet menace. “God, you have no idea how freakin’ hard it is not to get up and smack the stupid know-it-all look off your face, Brookes. But I’m holdin’ back. Here’s the deal, Brookes – the straight shit. Walt and Julia aren’t anything special, I’ll admit it, but they’re part of the team. And overall, we’re not doing too bad. Benji’s the man I had in mind for the job, but he seems to think you’re my woman. I have faith in his decisions, and I’m well aware of what you’re capable of. That’s why I know you’re what we need. We’re gonna have that chat about what you did to the Veins, believe it, but now’s not the time. We’ve got to take every minute we’ve got and put it towards our goal.”
Tash couldn’t help it. She laughed. “What I did to the Veins, eh? I didn’t do anything to them. This corpse I’m wearing did some damage to them, sure, but you know damn well that’s not the same thing. So your sire’s dead. Boo hoo. It happens – get over it.” Tash paused a moment, as though in reflection, while she watched Rose glower some more.
“You know, maybe I should commemorate my ‘rebirth’ as a vampire. It seems silly to keep the same old name now that I’m no longer Tash. I should think of a new name. I dunno, how about Dark Huntress? Or Ebon Huntress? Ooh, I know – Ebony’s a good name, right? What do you think?”
Tash was on her feet even as Rose thrust herself out of her armchair. Tash caught the arm that came at her, Rose’s hand clawed to rake her face. The two stood in tableau for a moment, the fire burning brightly in Rose’s eyes.
“That’s more like it,” Tash said softly. “I was worried they’d broken you – it’s easy to look tough in a dark room.”
Rose wrenched her arm free but did not stand down. “Fine. We’ll be technical about it. It wasn’t you, but know that your presence here is a hard pill to swallow.” She finally slid back a distance and reclaimed a sense of self-control. “You’re like… a trigger.”
Benji watched from the distance. “Of course, Rose is willing to work through her…issues with you if you’ll only give us the chance.” He paced behind Tash as he spoke and watched Rose’s motions carefully.
Tash nodded to Rose. “I understand. I do. I just needed to be sure you had the will to do what needs to be done in the next few days and weeks. You’ve been taking it slowly so far, building your strength piecemeal. But I’m more than just a sorry reminder of the past for you – my situation is going to bring the White Hats into the vampire territories. They’re not likely to be too particular how many they dust trying to find me. No vampire is safe in LA at the moment. If we want any sort of lasting presence here, the White Hats are going to have to be dealt with – fast. You can’t do that with a gang of nine.”
Rose cocked her head and made no further motions to attack. “So, are you saying you’ll take over the recruitment drive from here on out?” she asked with a glint in her demonic eye.
Benji folded his arms and awaited Tash's answer.
Tash grinned. “I’ve already started. There are a bunch of vampires at Bob’s who recognise my worth. They and a handful of demons were keen to hear some tips and strategies I imparted about dealing with particular members of the White Hats. They also seemed to take it to heart when I spoke of safety in numbers in these troubled times.”
Settling back down into her chair, Tash finally graced Benji with a small glance and half-smile of reassurance. “Mind you,” she continued, “having demons and vampires working together usually doesn’t go very well. But if I can at least set the demons on their own path of disruption it’ll help to give us some breathing space. They’re happy to have some inside information on the Hats – god knows they’ve been a menace to demons for the past couple of years. As for the vampires, the promise of bringing about the demise of the Hats could well bring quite a few new members to your gang.”
Benji smiled in agreement. “Having demons to cause a little ruckus of their own would keep the White Hats on their toes, all right. And from what I’ve heard about the do-gooders, we’ll need alla the help we can get.” The expression on his face was slightly nervous.
“Don’t panic, Benji. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but it is doable. The trick is to get them one at a time. Let those bastards gang up on you and you’re toast. And with someone who knows all their secrets and weaknesses…” Tash winked and addressed Rose again. “So, am I acceptable?”
Rosie nodded to Benji calmly. “Do you have anything to say on her behalf?”
“Of course,” Benji said. “I wouldn’t have brought her to you if I didn’t-”
“Well then, let’s hear it. Give me the pitch, son.”
Benji cleared his throat, then began. His pitch was very short. “You’ve seen it for yourself, Rose. The impossible is possible: the Great Enemy, your nemesis, is no more. There is only this fine creature of malevolence you see before you. Send her away and you’ll regret it. Let her in and you may still regret it – but it will be worth it. With what she has to offer us, I think we can’t refuse.”
Rosie looked at him in wonder. “She must really have you by the-”
“Rose. Think about it,” he interrupted.
Rose sighed. “Again, Benji, your words are well chosen. Too well chosen. You're either up to something, or you’re much too wise for your years.”
Rose scratched her chin and stepped towards Tash. “I don't think we can pull this off without you, Miss Brookes.”
Tash leaned back in her chair and stared upwards at Rose. “No you can’t, not at the rate you’ve been going; not with the way things are in this town. But though I hate to admit it, right now I need you as much as you need me. Your nucleus may be small, but it’s there. I can make it grow into what we both need.”
Rose nodded carefully. “All right, then. Deal.”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Sunday June 22, 2007
3:00 pm
Longwood Estates
Daye suppressed the urge to turn and flee from the concerned stares and soft spoken condolences of her friends. She forced herself to be calm, to move forward towards the house and to return greetings. She wasn’t even sure at this point what she said to each passing face. She just wanted to run screaming in the other direction. The last few hours were a blur of impossibilities, of mind numbing horror and pain. She needed to get away, to retreat into a corner and gather her strength for the next part, but there was no way, no place. There was no time for her weakness. Tash had to be stopped. Now.
The man standing outside the door of the Longwood Estate wasn’t familiar. Several of the White Hats had passed him by on their way into the meeting. When Daye arrived, he picked up his attaché and extended a hand. “Ms. Blaise? My name is Watterston, Bill Watterston, and I have important discussions to have with you and your fellow...” he paused, searched for a word and settled on one, “board members. Here is my card.”
*Watterston?* Daye thought as he extended his hand with his business card outstretched. She glanced down at the neatly-printed raised-ink card: Bill Watterston, Esq. Wolfram & Hart. *Wolfram and Hart?*
She raised her eyes and searched the entryway and surrounding porch quickly. She didn’t see Marcus anywhere. Was this man here because of Marcus? Did this have something to do with Drew? Why would Wolfram and Hart send someone here to speak to them? Why now?
“I’m sorry, Mr. Watterston, I don’t know why you’re here,” Daye said, her voice weary and hollow. “What is this about?”
“I really need to discuss this with all of your ‘associates’ at once, Ma’am,” he replied primly. “Would you mind?”
Daye shook her head. What could she do? If Wolfram and Hart wanted to cause trouble now, well, that was just the next thing they would deal with. There was nothing else for it.
“No, it’s fine,” Daye gestured towards the inside of the estate. “Follow me. We’ll go in and I’ll get things started and then you can speak.”
Watterston nodded and followed her into the house.
Daye moved into the sitting room and stood by the window, waiting as everyone else entered and began to take their seats. She hated the pity in their eyes, the pall that hung over the room. This was all wrong.
Daye glanced at the lawyer standing just behind her. Wolfram and Hart. Yes. That was fitting. The whole damn world was wrong, so why wouldn’t this threat rear its ugly head now. Perfect sense.
Finally, the milling and whispering stopped. As all eyes settled upon her Daye drew a deep, steadying breath. She scanned the crowd, White Hats and friends waiting impatiently for her to begin. She hoped no one noticed the stumble when her glance fell upon Marcus looking serious and sedate in his dark suit. She dared not acknowledge him. The police were suspicious enough. She wouldn’t put her friends in that position as well.
“Hello,” Daye spoke slowly, but clearly. “I’m sure most of you, if not all of you, know exactly why we’ve called this meeting. The White Hats are facing a unique threat.”
Daye saw more than one of her friends nodding or leaning to whisper to one another. She glanced warily at Watterston. “Before we discuss this situation and our options, though, I would like to allow this gentleman to speak to us for a moment. He’s an attorney from Wolfram and Hart and apparently he has some business with the White Hats.”
Daye realized that the significance of Wolfram and Hart was lost on most of the others, but when she caught Marcus’ gaze he was staring with undisguised interest at the lawyer. Daye stepped back as Mr. Watterston moved forward to speak.
Mr. Watterston stood and addressed the group: “I represent the Victor Foundation, which you call, amusingly, the ‘White Hats’. Mr. Vrithetek retained our services in the year 1720 to manage his accounts and holdings, which we have done proudly over that period of time. My direct predecessor on this account personally managed his funds for the last 175 years. The ‘Victor Foundation’ meant a radical new direction for Mr. Vrithetek to take and while we advised him against it, he was our client and we have facilitated the reorganization that he desired. He named the employees of the ‘Victor Foundation’ as the following five individuals in order of hiring: Natasha Brookes, Tristan Barrington, Sam Aubrey and Reah Kossinton.
“It was made known to us through, um, channels, that Mr. Barrington died on October 31, 2006. We sent a letter to Miss Brookes detailing the procedure to name a new successor. She declined to respond. Through other means we became aware of Miss Brookes’ transformation. Normally such a change of mortal state wouldn’t have mattered to us; however, Mr. Vrithetek was most explicit about the handling of such an occurrence.
“He instructed us to deliver this letter,” he produced a letter from his attaché, “to the next person in succession of leadership in the ‘Victor Foundation’. Unfortunately our records aren’t up to date. While we were able to discern the location of this assembly, we could not firmly determine the whereabouts of Mr. Aubrey. We felt it was prudent to seek your assistance as the – ahem – governing body of the ‘Victor Foundation’ in reaching your new President. We should like to present him with these papers in person.”
Daye stared in shock and dismay at the man. She realized now that Sam had mentioned someone calling for her over the last few days. Of course, now that she knew why, she wished she didn’t. Sam – ‘next in succession’? How could that be? What did it mean?
“Mr. Watterston,” Daye pitched her voice low. “I may be able to help you find Samuel Aubrey.” Daye glanced up at her friends. “Not now, but can I call you later to discuss it?”
“Fine, fine.” Watterston tried to look sympathetic rather than impatient, “I know you’ve had a recent tragedy. I can wait. But this is an urgent matter; the future of the Foundation does depend on dealing with this in a timely manner. Should Miss Brookes,” he glanced at the assemblage, “cease to be before this is resolved, then the Foundation may fall into a contingency plan that would involve liquidation and disbursement.”
Daye frowned. The last thing she needed now was this man and his attitude. “Yes, well, I assure you, I understand the significance of all the events that have transpired over the last few hours. I can and will assist you, as soon as I’m able to. Threats, even veiled ones, are unnecessary.”
Daye fought down the completely out of proportion anger that was bubbling up inside of her. “I have no intention of allowing all that Victor worked for go to waste. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’m not entirely comfortable with you being privy to any plans we may be discussing here.”
“Ms. Blaise, there is no reason to be hostile here. I am just the messenger.” The smirk on Watterton’s face told a different story, but his posture indicated he wasn’t going to push it. “I’ll just leave these cards here for your friends who might have questions and I’ll be on my way.” He turned to the crowd of sad faced heroes. “Nice to meet you all.”
Watterston left and his voice speaking into his cell phone echoed down the hall as he let himself out of the mansion. Marcus watched the departing Watterston carefully then pocketed one of the cards. So that was what a Wolfram and Hart lawyer looked like. Considering the pitfalls they’d left behind in their building he wasn’t surprised they dealt so casually with the occult. Legal counsel with an understanding of events might make things easier with that Detective.
“So, Miss Brookes is now a vampire. Unless you’re determined to use extraordinary methods that means she should be staked. Especially since she no doubt realises you’re the greatest threat to her survival. We need to move quickly. All I need is an object that has been in her possession for some time. I can find her for you and we can do what is necessary.”
Daye stood stock still for a moment, staring at Marcus. Her anger suddenly focused on him. *Miss Brookes,* she thought. *As if she wasn’t his friend. As if she wasn’t important. ‘Should be staked.’ Really?!*
“You think it’s that simple, do you, Mr. Dalton?” Daye’s voice dripped acid. “Well, aren’t we lucky to have your guidance? Whatever would we do without your brilliant insight?”
Marcus fired back, “You’d get hung up on it looking like your friend. Yes it has her body; her memories; probably even a great deal of her personality, but let’s be quite clear. The animating spirit is not a human soul. It’s a demon. A demon that’s a threat to you all.”
*First the lawyer, now this.* Kyle shook his head. He had watched the representative from Wolfram and Hart closely, flicking the lid of his zippo lighter open and closed. There was something about lawyers that just got him on edge. He was pretty damn sure, after all, that Wolfram & Hart had some involvement with his father’s death. As far as he was concerned, that made them responsible for his life spiraling slowly into hell. He’d like nothing more than to wrap his hands around Mr. Watterston’s neck.
Snapping the lighter closed he pushed himself off of the wall, moving further into the room and looking mostly at Daye. “I can’t believe you people.” His tone wasn’t forgiving. “Whilst we’re sitting here all talking about this, she’s out there doing vampire things!”
He paused. “Killing people, remember? I agree with scary necromancer guy. She’s not Tash anymore, she’s a damned bloodsucker. We gotta get out of here, hunt her down and stake her good.” As he looked around at some of the aghast faces staring at him Kyle’s voice dropped and he looked down. “It’s what I’d want and she’d probably want it too…”
Again he shook his head and returned to his patch of wall in the corner. “Smooth, man,” said Hayden, perched comfortably on a desk with his legs swinging back and forth like a child. The ghost held his hands up in mock defence as Kyle shot him a withering glare.
Kate remained silent though she buried herself closer against the arm that Galen had wrapped around her shoulders. The strength of emotion that emanated from the assembled White Hats was incredible – caustic to some degree, nervous, sad; even violent. Kate felt each of those emotions mirrored inside herself alongside a deep and bitter despair. Her blood turned to ice inside her veins at Marcus’ and Kyle’s blunt words despite the plain realisation that they were right.
Feeling cold, Kate closed her eyes briefly in an attempt to block out the vigorous influx of thoughts and emotion that threatened to drown her.
Daye stared at Kyle, biting back the urge to lash out at him as well. She might be willing, or at the very least unable to stop herself from letting her anger flare at Marcus, but the Kaoshian certainly had done nothing to garner her wrath. She felt a shiver rush through her body and hugged her arms tightly about herself, but she said nothing more. She stepped back a bit and tried to listen without interrupting.
Ellis slapped his hand angrily on the arm of the chair, “She’s not killing anyone in the middle of the afternoon, and you know it. I have the Demon Police out on the streets looking for her now, but she’s gone to ground before sunrise almost certainly. You also have to remember that this is – was – your tactical commander. She taught you all to fight as a group. Don’t you think she’s going to avoid the places you’d automatically search for her?”
Ellis bit down on his lip to control the urge to scream at these people about their carelessness. Letting anyone hunt alone was a grave error, no matter how experienced she was. He could feel the dread in his soul that under different circumstances it could be him that they were planning to turn to dust.
Alessa looked from Ellis’ frowning face to her friends, and she tried to put some order to her thoughts. They all ‘knew’ they had to hunt Tash. It wasn’t as if they needed any reminders and they weren’t inexperienced or incompetent; just shocked to the core. However, maybe they needed Marcus’, Kyle’s and Ellis’ more detached points of view to start moving.
“I think that if Mr. Dalton, here, can track Tash we have an advantage she may not be aware of.” She bit her lip and looked at the necromancer. “We just need to be pointed in the right direction. We know what we have to do afterwards.”
Oz stood off to the side. He’d been watching the proceeds but keeping his presence low-key. He had noticed a few of the attendees glancing his way, but he wasn’t sure if they had seen him. Oz thought perhaps that Kate’s gaze was the most haunting. He could see the anguish in her eyes every time it wandered to the corner where he was waiting to step forward. Even Daye’s grief at the loss of Drew wasn’t as painful. Oz could only wonder why.
Even here, though, the mortals of the group looked like candle-flames. Flickering and waving in and out of his perception. It was hard to distinguish between them and their voices sounded far away. He had to concentrate just to follow the dialog as if listening to a conversation held behind him. He envied angels like Brinkley and Ra who were firmly anchored on the mortal plane. Being “between” was stressful and he once again felt that call to join his brethren in heaven.
The tempers of those in the room were rising. The darkness that crept into the lights was clear. He heard them calmly discussing the destruction of Tash. Dalton’s darkness was the worst. The magic he commanded had turned the normally cheery brightness of his mortality into a grey, frighteningly cold light.
A personal item. Oz heard it clearly. The sooner they could get started the less of an edge she would have. Oz flew out to Poplar Avenue to retrieve something of Tash’s for Dalton so he could perform his spell.
He reached the building quickly, and stopped only to greet the door guardian – the Angel that protected this building from the forces of evil. Every house had one that would stand between the vampires and the owners. It was a lowly order of angels but, oh, so very important. He dashed to her apartment and entered using his divine powers to bypass the door and wards against evil.
Inside he glanced around. There were dozens of crosses, large and small. He had remembered she always wore one when she hunted. How appropriate that such should be her downfall. He walked into her bedroom and glanced around. Her dresser was cluttered with spent casings and various elements of hunting: holy water and stakes next to earrings and lipstick. There was a pile of laundry on the floor, dusty and smelling of sweat. He got melancholy about how she had been torn from this mortal realm too soon, but Oz had people waiting. He lifted a particularly delicate silver cross from the dresser top and headed back to the mansion.
As Oz was leaving the mansion, Darian stood. “We can find her simply enough,” he said, “but who gets the ‘honor’ of doing her in?”
He whirled on Marcus, “You? Why not you?” he said to Ellis. “This may be a demon wearing Tash’s face, but is the best magic you can muster to deal with this a spell to find her? Why not try to un-vampire her?”
Darian’s eyes were getting watery. He stood there hoping against hope that there would be some way to not lose Tash. Wishing for some way that he could save her life after she had saved all of theirs so many times.
Ellis stood and put his hand on Darian’s shoulder. “Sit down. You know that isn’t going to happen, don’t you? Deal with it.”
Darian pushed Ellis back and stormed out. “I’ll deal with it. I’ll deal with it myself.”
Reah stepped in front of him and extended her claws. “The man said sit.”
Darian stood a long second then sulked back to his seat. Reah followed and sat herself. “This is not about our feelings, people, this is a threat,” she said in a cold voice. “We deal with the threat then we deal with our feelings.”
Daye felt her breath catch at Reah’s angry words. She glanced around and saw most of her friends were shooting furious glares at Marcus. She felt a stab of guilt. Yet again, here was someone caught up in affairs not his own, and it was her fault. Daye shut her eyes for a moment to block out the room as she struggled to pull herself together. They had work to do. Now was not the time to fall apart.
Nikolai cleared his throat gently. “It’s not just as a threat that we should view this. Tasha was a good friend to have but she is dead now. She was killed by the thing she hated the most, and worse than that – she has become the thing she hated. The Tasha I knew would not want to continue like that.” He lifted his head and took in the faces of all those in the room. “She would not want her body to be used by a demon. More than eliminating a threat to ourselves, we owe it to our friend to see that she can be laid to rest.”
Kate nodded gratefully in Nikolai’s direction, feeling the hubbub of thoughts and emotions settle momentarily. “Koyla’s right,” she said resolutely. “Whatever our feelings on this we owe it to her. It’s what Tash – our Tash – would have wanted.”
Oz stepped forward into the discussion and concentrated to bring his presence forward. “Don’t be afraid,” he said automatically and felt like a moron for saying it to his friends. After all, Alessa had prepared them. Light streamed from his body and his halo glowed with a warm golden light. His wings reflected the light around the room and Kyle and Dalton winced slightly with the intensity. Oz tried to tone it down some; it was hard to tell who could see and who couldn’t.
“It is hard to explain to you, friends, what this is like for me,” he apologized, “but I am committed to this fight. I will do what I can to stop the abomination that has corrupted our dear friend’s body. I just wanted you to know that I am here; I am listening and I am helping wherever I can.”
Oz laid the cross gently on the table before Marcus. “I got this from her apartment,” he said, not needing to elaborate on whose apartment he meant, “It should be enough to find her. If you need anything else I am listening in, but manifesting like this takes effort.” He knew there would be a hundred questions, but he had been pushing hard the last few days to keep Alessa informed and being visible to this group was a terrible strain.
He held up a hand. “Alessa and I are in frequent contact and I may be able to speak with you individually, but it is hard to address you as a group. I can’t answer any questions now. I just wanted you let you know I was here and try to help.”
He slumped and relaxed the will to hold himself in the mortal plane. The light faded and to the assembled White Hats he faded from view. A few of the more perceptive ones followed his weary walk to the corner but lost a distinct vision of him as he relaxed there and faded from all but the most determined effort to see.
Marcus picked up the cross let it dangle from its chain for a second. “I’ll need some salt, a candle and a needle”. He looked around the room and the White Hats leaning forward to witness the deed. “And a little space.”
“There are candles there, over the mantelpiece. I’ll get you the salt and needle.” Alessa hastily stood up and moved to the door; she’d welcome a little time alone, even if it were brief. She felt Ellis’ hand on her waist and turned to add, “Can you work here? There’s plenty of space in this house if not.”
Marcus smiled. “It’s fine.” When Alessa returned with the other ingredients he squatted down and placed the cross on the floor. He poured out a circle of salt around it and then pricked his finger on the needle.
“The vessel.” Marcus’ words leeched heat from the air throughout the room and the cross began to glow with a pale white gleam.
“The hunger.” A single drop of blood fell from his out stretch finger to turn the light crimson.
“Show me.” The needle floated into the air and began to turn slowly, like a compass settling. When it finally stilled Marcus smiled.
“She’s that way.”
Reah was on her feet. “I’m driving!”
Kyle was shouting “Shotgun!” in unison with Darian.
Ellis looked up from the floating needle to the demon and Claw Girl who were already moving to the door and he humphed. “That way? That’s all you can say?” he asked the necromancer. “Half the planet is that way, the other half that other,” he said, signalling the opposite direction.
“Take bearing. Get a map. It’s a simple spell we can repeat as necessary.”
Galen whispered to Kate who left. He explained, “I have a detailed map in the car. Kate has gone to retrieve it, but this won’t work. We are so far away from downtown L.A. that in order for this to work we’ll have to drive for hours to get enough triangulations to pinpoint her closer than a few city blocks. By the time we find out which of the several thousand skyscrapers she’s in between here and Arizona she’ll be long gone.”
Marcus gave Galen a look. “Fine. We get close enough, I can feel her. She’s the walking dead and that makes her mine. Does any one have any constructive suggestions?”
Daye gave Marcus a withering look. She was still seething from his earlier comments, and his horrid behavior made it a simple thing to lose the guilt she’d started to feel. “I believe Galen’s suggestion was constructive. I doubt we’ll find her before the sun sets and she goes on the move. It’ll be mid-afternoon before we even get to town from here, as Galen pointed out, and we’ll need to triangulate. Look, we’re all well aware of what we have to do. There’s no need for you to keep harping on it, okay? We’re going to go kill her before she kills any more of us. She’s already taken Drew…”
Daye faltered, her voice catching, but she kept on, her voice growing louder as anger fuelled her. “We’re going to go kill what’s left of our friend. We just want to make sure we do it right. Right now the only plan we have is to follow this line and wait until we’re close enough for you to do your oh-so-mighty necromancer thing and point her out. Then what? Tell me that, Mister Dalton. Then what? Do we all surround her and beat her into the ground? Do we let you unleash something horrible on her? What then?”
She stopped suddenly; on her feet and swaying from the emotion that was tearing her heart in two. Her anger was stuck in her throat in an uncomfortable knot. That they had to make these plans was bad enough, but to have Marcus sit in his corner and make sarcastic remarks – that was just too much for her to bear.
“I was thinking about crucifying her on an east-facing wall but I imagine you’re all too squeamish for that,” Marcus replied icily. “She’s a newly risen vampire; for all the potential she has, right now she is absolutely zero threat to me. If you want my help, fine – I’ll help. We’ll find her and when we do I’ll hold her still and assuming one of you can’t cut off her head or ram a stake through her heart I will. If it’s too late to hunt her today then perhaps we can start tomorrow at dawn. That way we’ll have time to drive around the city, triangulate her position and descend upon her lair. Strangely enough I seem to be the only one solving problems here. Everyone else is still hung up on why it won’t work.”
“It’s not like that and you know it.” Alessa spoke evenly, but her temper was starting to flare. She could feel the current going through Marcus to Daye and didn’t quite know if she understood it. But her friend was maddeningly angry, and she was going the road. “We are all ‘solving’ the problem, or you wouldn’t be here. We appreciate your help, and we’ll use it.”
She took a look around, “And when you locate her, we’ll dust her.” She looked into the necromancer’s eyes, still remembering his words to Delancre. “Just that. It’s our place to do it.”
Ells stepped up to join Alessa, “Your mumbo-jumbo is convenient, Dalton. Some of us have other methods that are less mystical. This is a team effort. So don’t think that you are going to solve this without us, and we are bringing you along.” *Even though I’d just as soon leave him to rot in his tomb,* Ellis thought to himself.
Loathing. It was the best word Nikolai had for what emanated towards Marcus from almost everyone in the room to a certain degree. Add in to this a large amount of anger, and he couldn’t see anything good coming out of this.
“Izvenechya,” he began softly, “but if I may suggest one thing; this arguing isn’t helping us. Being agitated is understandable, but if I were Tasha, I know what I would do: I would leave this city before my friends put me out of my misery. She can’t move during the day. This means that the more time we waste bickering, the less time we have to find her. Once the sun goes down, Tasha gets to move about freely. While Marcus may have his limitations, this may be the best way to enable us to at least try and track her movements.”
Galen stood. “Nikolai is right. The worst thing we could do right now is lose our heads. We need to stay calm and stay focused. Unpleasant as it may be, we have a job to do. Reah, Kyle and Darian have already gone off on Marcus’ heading. I suggest we split into two more teams and do the same. Tash may go on the move tonight, but if we can find her trail and get more readings we’ll slowly close the net around her.”
He considered the various talents of the people in the room and came to a quick decision, ensuring an even split of magic ability and fighting strength. “How about Nikolai joins me and Kate while Alessa, Ellis, Daye and Marcus…”
He paused, glancing for a moment at Daye who now sat huddled with her arms clutched around her, and then at Marcus. “Or – perhaps it would be better if Daye went with Kate and me, while Nikolai goes with Alessa, Ellis and Marcus.”
Kate held up the map as she re-entered the room, the solemn faces telling her that the passionate tempers of her friends hadn’t quelled in her absence. “I’ve got the map,” she announced in an attempt to break the tension. “Are we ready?”
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Monday, July 23rd 2007 – 12:40am
Julia joined Walt slouching on the couch as Benji trudged upstairs with his mysterious female guest. “Who do ya think she is?” Julia wondered aloud with a hint of jealousy.
“Maybe Gentle Benj is finally getting some,” Walt suggested with a snicker. “It could do the ol’ boy some good…maybe he wouldn’t be so crabby. And bossy. And--”
“I thought you were warming up to him!” Julia chimed in.
Walt shifted uneasily on the sofa and pulled one of the torn-up pillows closer. “I am…I am, Julia. For your sake I’m trying to be nice.”
“You can’t be nice, Walter.”
Walt groaned in aggravation. “Then at least a little less of a bastard. God. I try to do one little thing for you, this is how you repay me.”
Julia smiled at him despite the sour look in his face. “It’s not you’re fault you can’t be nice. You are a being of pure evil, you know.”
“Yeah? Takes one to know one.” The grumpy young vamp slowly started smiling. “So who do you think she is?” Julia didn’t answer immediately. “What--? You don’t think I was right, do you?” A look of awe crossed his face. “Hmm. Never knew Benji had it in him.”
“That’s not what I was thinking,” she explained sharply. “I think she’s a new recruit.”
“We’ll have to meet her. I mean, really get to know her if we’re gonna be slaughtering side-by-side with her.” He sniffed and sat upright.
Julia concurred. “Something about her was familiar. The way she carried herself.”
“We’ve never seen anyone like that, Julia. I’d remember. What’re you thinking of?” Walt asked her suspiciously.
“Remember those stories that Rose used to tell us, Walt?”
“All of them.” His eyes lit up at the mere mention of them. Slowly he turned to Julia, until eventually he was staring at her in disbelief. “No…”
“Hey—all I’m sayin’ is that she matches the description. Take that for what you will, but--”
“Why the Hell would Benji bring the Great Enemy here?!” Walt shouted. Julia clasped a hand to his lips and mouthed a warning to be quiet.
“You know what they’ve been swaying around town, Walt. It could be true. Also, we don’t know it’s her! And if it is her then Benji has a reason for it. I trust Benji.”
Walt shook his head and freed himself from Julia’s hand. “How can you always just trust him so blindly, Julia? I mean, when did he ever earn our trust?”
Julia rose from the couch in anger. “Dammit, Walter! He took us in when we were newly risen…he led us to this place, taught us how to kill, hunt, survive! We owe it to him.”
“We didn’t need to be taught that. That’s internal, it’s what we’re made for. Besides, untrustworthy people do nice stuff all the time. It’s how they fool you.”
“Speaking from experience, are we…?”
Walt stood to face her. “You know damn well I am,” he said with a hurt look on his face. “Why don’t you trust in me like you do the smart-ass?”
“I tried trusting you once, Walt, and it eventually got me killed.” She grabbed his hand and placed it on her heart. Where her heart once beat, it was now empty and cold. “Not saying I’m not grateful, but now it’s your turn to trust me Walt. We follow Benji’s plan, whatever it is, okay?”
Walt looked at the ground and scowled. “If anything happens because of that kid--”
“I accept full responsibility. But nothing’s going to happen, man. Nothing that we don’t want.” She pulled Walt into an embrace, but the look of resentment never left his eyes.
Mid-Season Four: June 8, 2007 - September 30, 2007
Monday, 23rd July 2007 – 4am
A corpse lay on the bed, cold and still. No pulse disturbed the marble perfection of its neck, no warmth coursed through its congealed veins; no breath stirred its breast. It lay, not in state, but with limbs carelessly arranged, one dusky arm flung out across the pillow, its head tilted to one side. Its eyes were closed, the face slack in death.
And yet it dreamed.
It dreamed of a vast, formless void. Without eyes, it could not see. Without ears, it could not hear. Without nerves or skin, it could not feel. A mere consciousness, floating in nothing, it nevertheless knew it was surrounded by many others just like it. It could not judge how many; hundreds of thousands – millions, maybe. Perhaps even more than that. It could interact with none of them. Alone among this multitude, it drifted, seeking something – it knew not what.
The dream was so vivid, so real, that the mind grew panicked. It knew this place; had been here a long, long time, though time itself was meaningless here. It did not want to be lost in this void. It remembered having a body once, of being alive. It concentrated and began to conjure up a memory of that body, supple and virile: she had been a hunter. She recalled the thrill of the fight, of adrenaline coursing through her body. Had she a mouth, she might have screamed then in fear and frustration. For she no longer had a body, but merely existed as a mote of thought in this hopeless eternity.
Even as she tried to hold onto it, the memory of that life, that body, faded. She lost that identity of self and became no more than a wandering consciousness once more. It drifted amongst the others of its kind, somehow aware of their presence yet incapable of communication.
Then something penetrated that emptiness. A warmth? A light? It was impossible to define. Without senses there was no way to determine what had changed, except that it felt an overwhelming urge to move towards a certain point. The pressure of the others around it grew, and it remembered other times that this had happened; that something had breached this limbo and all within had rushed to it.
This time it was close; it felt a sense of anticipation. Maybe this time... It reached that point in the void where it was drawn, and was pulled; sucked down a thin chink in the boundaries of its prison. Elation filled it at the thought of release. That was when it realised – this was merely a memory. This had happened before. It remembered escaping this place and finding life. It was already free.
The corpse on the bed stirred. Intelligence gleamed in the cold, brown depths of those dead eyes and a smile curved the chill lips. It was free: it had escaped that place not so long ago and now had the use of this glorious body, this huntress’ corpse. Relief mingled with triumph, but both were soon overtaken by another sensation.
Without having to look she knew that it was not yet dawn outside, though it was close. Tash rose from the bed and padded downstairs to the lower level of Youth Hostile. Caution drove her to seek the kitchen and the refrigerator, and she gazed for a long moment at the cold sustenance inside. No, she wanted to feel the warm, living blood of a fresh victim.
Glancing out the window at the darkness that still enveloped the street, she made up her mind and ducked out the door. There was still time to slake this thirst properly, if she were quick.
Conspiracy Theory
***Sunday, 22nd July 2007 – Near Midnight
The Office of Detective Rachel Grey, LAPD***
Detective Rachel Grey sighed wearily as she deleted several files from her computer. Ever since Sweet’s little visit to Los Angeles her work load had trebled, it wasn’t just that the number of reports of spontaneous human combustion had risen considerably, no, it was the fiasco with Ozymandias DeAngelo and James Anderson that had caused her the most grief. She still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened there. It was true that Detective Anderson had seriously fallen off the deep end recently, his obsession with DeAngelo bordering on the psychotic, but even so…
In a way she was actually kind of relieved that Anderson was no longer in a position to stir up any more trouble. It would have been one thing to prove that DeAngelo was some sort of serial killer or religious nutcase but his testimony had been too certain, his certitude too steadfast… pursuing a conviction would have just raised too many… questions. And the public was in no way ready to learn the truth.
Rachel tapped her stubby fingernails rhythmically against her desk. She was just deliberating whether to pour herself another cup of black coffee or head off home when her train of thought was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone as it belted out a computerised version of Lady Madonna by The Beatles.
She sighed, casting a precautionary glance around the virtually deserted station room before removing the handset from her inner jacket pocket. “Grey,” she mumbled tiredly, perking up immediately at the sound of the voice on the other end.
Leaning back in her chair to gain a view of the far corridor, Rachel’s eyes skirted around the room again, though this time her gaze was penetrating and efficient. “No it’s okay, I’m alone.”
On the other end of the line Jennifer Lawson curled the telephone wire around her index finger, smiling at Aimes Carmichael’s dark suited figure as he left the room. “Good… I have an urgent request from HQ that I need you to process regarding your last report… case file #164429b.”
Rachel didn’t even need to look up the number. “The Eldridge case?”
“That’s the one. We have reason to believe that Nemesis was involved.” There was a significant pause on the other end of the phone, Jennifer smiled. “We need you to initiate Operation Desdemona.”
Detective Grey sat suddenly upright in her chair, her face a tight mask of seriousness. “Operation Desdemona? Are you sure that’s necessary? I mean… well it’s not like anybody has been asking questions, the investigation is just about tied up. We could leave it at that – no-one would be any the wiser-”
“Agent Grey,” interrupted Jennifer sharply, sucking air in through her teeth, “Farefax contacted me personally, this business with Constillias… we can’t afford for it to get out into the open. The security of this agency is at stake. If this matter isn’t buried it could expose us all. We need a scapegoat.”
“I understand,” said Detective Grey with a reluctant sigh. “But… this girl is innocent, well actually if what you say is correct she’s one in a long line of victims. Our job is supposed to be to protect the public not convict them unjustly-“
“Agent Grey I hope you’re not planning on becoming insubordinate in this matter…”
“No, of course not-”
“Good. Then I’ll send a task squad in to take care of the details, we should have a result in the next few days.”
Natives are Restless...
Porfirio Diaz was doing good business that night. The boss had gone to sleep, leaving Adam to watch drunken people try to dance to "Cassandra Gemini" while he used a directional mic to capture all the gossip. Over in the corner, one of the mayor's cabinet members was slurring his vowels, nursing a third G&T after his eight straight Pissed Siberians (a house special. If you didn't want to kill someone after just one, you probably weren't even human.) He was muttering something about "can't find out" and "our funds" and "dominatrix bar in Amsterdam" that was caught on tape in its entirety. In the corner, some wiccan was talking about star-spawn and "legions of living dead in So. Central". That was worth a look later, if only to blow some CS-ers away. God, putting a sign over the bar that read "no drink limit" was a bangin' idea.
Adam was mixing Dust Whores when the chick walked in. She was short, asian, and had long dark hair. She also had a Gigerian tattoo of a snake on her arm. Alas, she was followed in by a camera crew. She walked right up to the bar and point-blank asked him about Martin Strong. Adam gave his usual answer, and told her she could look him up afterwards and he would feed her glorious fiction.
Since nothing was going on, he jumped quickly to a bird in South central while the crew helped themselves to a variety of beverages. There didn't seem to be any slack-jaws hanging around, but one could never be entirely sure about that sort of thing. Better head over there tonight, just in case. There was a feeling of...uneasiness in the crow he was inhabiting for the time being, as if something incredibly big was happening somewhere. Something cataclysmic. Well, the League of Madmen (total membership so far: one crazy corpse-eater) was created to deal with this sort of thing, so on with the night!