*** Aug 6, 2005 ***
There is darkness. There is pain. There is evil. These things I recognize because I am these things. I feel the movements of the trulls above me. It has been a long time and the trulls have built many things above me. It is a marvel that they have built.
I can feel the sprawl of their village...it reaches into the landscape like a hard scab that holds the flesh of the countryside together. I can feel the trulls of all kinds. The gentle innocents. The hard violent ones. Even the ancient ones like myself but younger...much younger. They are all trying to make a life in the scab.
Scabs heal. They slough off and become one more bit of dust in the earth. I am the dust. I am where all scabs end up. And I am awake again. I look farther into the land and see a closed hellmouth. I see madness, chaos and disbelief.
I am going to have fun here. The trulls do not remember, otherwise they would have kept the ancient places clean. They cannot imagine what will happen or they would still have champions and guardians in place. They will remember soon enough. I am awake and they are the ones who are sleeping.
***
Mrs. White's apartment had been converted weeks ago into an office. The phone lines and DSL connections were in place and the knick-knacks had been thinned down to a point where most people assumed the small apartment was a reception area.
Victor scratched his head at the tangle of wires behind the desk and the arcane symbols that Ian was typing on the screen. "Are you sure it will work okay? I don't know anything about how to fix these things...much less use them," said Victor.
Ian chuckled, "Come on, Victor, it's time for you to get wired! There's no shame in not knowing but I find it hard to believe that a guy as young as you hasn't had to use these since he was a kid in school."
Victor smiled uneasily. "I grew up in Europe, they aren't as advanced as the States," he lied. Ian had expressed this same sort of curiosity at Victor's discomfort before. Truth was, the technology scared Victor, and it was more obscure than black magic to him.
There was a quiet knock on the door. A young woman stood there in a white tee shirt that showed her midriff. Her tight black slacks accentuated her shapely legs, and the tiny nose stud drew attention to her very attractive face.
"Is this the place looking for the receptionist?" she asked.
Ian gracelessly stood up and tripped on the office chair rushing to greet her, but Victor deftly cut him off and extended a hand. "Pleased to meet you," he said, "My name is Victor. What's your name?"
"Henna," she said, "I am here about the job."
Ian was behind Victor making an ass of himself by waggling his eyebrows and winking at her, and she looked down in embarrassment. Victor stepped back and deliberately applied most of his 450 lbs to Ian's toes. He escorted her in and invited her to sit on the sofa where Ian hopped quickly to sit beside her.
The interview was short, and Henna was quick to assure Victor she knew about stocks, property management, computers, messages, and everything he was looking for. She had been working in the billing and customer service industry for her mother's online stocks business since she was 13. Even at 23, she was a veteran of managing volatile companies.
She left with a job, and Victor was quick to talk to Ian (who was trying to follow her out the door). "When are you going home?" asked Victor.
Ian opened his mouth and decided that he didn't want to push it. "Tonight," he replied.
***
That night there was a noise in the basement. A young figure of a girl walked slowly up the stairs. She looked around the corner from the basement stair and seeing the coast was clear, strolled out into the hallway. Her tight tee shirt was clean and white, and her dark slacks and tiny nose stud accentuated her best features.
She looked into the office and patted the electronic box. Its secrets were open to her, and she held her hand there for just a moment longer as information about the trulls of this new age flowed through her.
She smiled and closed her eyes. One bit of information interested her. Henna. A name, a phone number, a residence.
****
Henna walked around the small efficiency apartment in her workout bra and bicycle shorts. She had already slid the compact folding stair machine under the bed. She sat on the corner of the bed, drinking her spring water with one hand and clicked on the television with the other.
She was glad she had this great job. Now she could really get something accomplished. They had a sweet setup there, and she didn't think they would mind if she ran a small web business on their computer while she was doing work for them. It was only bandwidth and they had more than they needed.
She stopped flipping channels, and flipped back a couple of clicks. She had seen something that caught her eye. The channel looked like a cheesy horror flick from the 70's with huge crowds of cave people fleeing across the savannah from some unseen evil.
There were a few that stood their ground and huge misshapen horrors came and engulfed them. Henna wasn't sure why she was watching this particular program...it wasn't her usual fare of E! or VH1.
She thought it must have been the special effects. They were better than anything Lucasfilm ever produced. She didn't have a HDTV (she was saving up for it) but it was sharp and crisp.
Real. It seemed real. That was it totally. She set down the water and the remote. She approached the set and extended a hand. *This is crazy!* she thought. *This is like some sort of weird movie.*
As her fingers touched the screen and felt only hard glass, her skin stopped prickling. She breathed again (not realizing until just then she had been holding her breath). She stood up.
As she turned around, she saw the young girl sitting on the corner of the bed with the 3lb free weight in one hand and the bottle of water in the other. She smiled at her and dentist-white teeth flashed an evil smile.
Henna barely registered that she was seeing herself before the 3lb weight smacked her in the face, and she didn't get to see the end of the movie. Ever again.
The doppelganger stood over Henna's slim form, thankful that it would not have to clean up blood. Not that it minded cleaning up blood, it's just that lots of blood led to embarassing questions. She dragged the fit body into the bathroom and proceded to insert the real jewelry where only the appearance had been before. Over the next few hours the colorful tattoos faded from the tan skin and appeared on the skin of the clone.
She was a good one. The markings that made her unique had power. She especially liked the "sensual" rune on her lower back. It felt warm and sexy. The rings and baubles each held memories and skills. The ring in her belly button gave her knowledge of movements and combat. The stud in her nose told her stories of places and the thrulls that inhabited them.
The shamans had worn such things. Earplugs and tattoos of power made them unique and guarded their selves against the evil. But they were applied with care, with prayer and with protection. These little things were carelessly applied. They did not protect anything. That was a change it liked.
Tomorrow it would work. It would do menial things while it scouted around. The markings and decorations would disguise it as one of the thrulls. Even the sensitive ones would not know.
When it was time the others would come. Whole armies of them would come forth from the dust and swallow this scab.
Post to Twitter
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Kate pushed open the door to Bibliophile and the bell rang loudly. Galen held her hand loosely as they stepped inside and surveyed the room. Natasha was standing by the doorway, talking to Victor and Jess. She grinned widely while calling out to them. Kate couldn’t help but self-consciously fiddle with her hair at Tash’s perceptive glance.
“Hi guys, looks like a good party," said Kate smiling and catching a glimpse of Daye sitting to one side with Drew. "And we've yet to be faced with apocalypse; that must count as a success."
Tash grinned, "And no life-threatening magic rituals yet, either. Though," and her smile faded, "we do have a vampire."
Tash watched Parasol for a second, and the vampire's eyes flicked up to meet hers. Brown eyes gazed into green eyes across the expanse of floor separating them. Tash shivered and turned her head back to Kate. "Not sure exactly what the deal is there, yet," Tash finished.
Kate observed the woman across the room. She was stunningly beautiful, *and also a vampire.* Kate judged that Daye must have her reasons, certainly not ALL vampires couldn’t be trusted, some were even able to control their bloodlust, becoming useful members of society.
A young woman entered the room causing the shop bell to ring loudly, announcing her arrival.
Galen did not notice the new arrival, instead noticing the vampire across the room before turning to Tash. "Believe it or not, there are actually some vampires who think of humans as more than tasty snack treats." He turned towards Kate for a moment. "I think I'm going to get something to drink at the bar. Want me to bring you back anything?"
Kate shook her head no as she glanced over to where Daye sat. Drew had just risen to his feet looking a little hesitant to leave Daye and walked over to the bar to get a drink. Kate decided to take this opportunity to finally find out what had happened with Ryan last week. Making her excuses to Tash and Victor she slid down into Drew's vacant seat.
Daye was watching Drew across the crowded room. He had just reached Chinaka, and Daye could sense his discomfort as the young woman blatantly flirted with him. *I wonder if I should be offended,* she mused, watching as he was introduced to the vampire in their midst. Since he didn't flinch or blanch, Daye could only assume no one had told him that yet. She was amused to see how flustered meeting the stunning creature left Drew. Daye was so intent on watching her lover that she failed to notice at first that Kate had come over and sat down beside her.
Kate waited patiently while Daye’s gaze lingered on Drew’s form as he moved across the room to the bar. “Daye?” she called gently, trying to gain her attention. “How are you?”
party part 1
At Daye’s urging Victor, Jessica, Mantheana, Parasol and Drew followed her inside, and Daye let the door shut. She was feeling positively fabulous about being surrounded by so many people she cared for. Daye accepted a quick hug from Victor, while she remained cradled in Drew’s embrace, his arm looped comfortably around her waist.
Victor left, making a beeline for where Tash stood by the bar, and Parasol also went off in search of someone or something to occupy her.
Daye turned her attention on Jessica and Mantheana. "So, I'm surprised to see you two together," she said. "How do you know each other, Jessica?"
“Ah, we met in Bibliophile one day, we’ve become friends. Plus Ellie’s babysitting little Maria.”
Daye raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Ellie's babysitting?" she repeated. "That should be interesting. Things going any better between you two?"
Jess grinned slightly. “A little. We’ve got over the ‘I’m going to do the exact opposite to what you want me to do’ stage now I think. Maria seems to like her too…”
"Oh she does. I think she likes having a big girl around. Although I hope she isn't too much for Eleanor to handle." Mantheana smiled quirkily.
Smiling, Jess said, “She’ll be fine.” After a slight pause she turned to Daye. “Are you okay after yesterday?”
Daye nodded. "I'm fine," she said. "We're fine," she corrected, turning her gaze on Drew.
Drew nodded. "Yeah, I actually am," he said. "I'll say one thing, being with Amanda sure has made for an interesting time."
"Jessica I know," Drew continued, "but I don't think we've met." he was smiling his charming, shy smile at Mantheana.
"Good evening." Mantheana returned the smile courteously. "I am Mantheana. Who might I be addressing?"
Drew was surprised at the young woman's formal manner, as well as at her thick accent. He placed her country of origin as somewhere within Eastern Europe, but she was very young to sound so cultured. He had figured her for a local, or at least an American, with her whole gothic look.
Daye blushed, embarrassed by her own lack of manners. "Mantheana, this is Drew, my boyfriend," she said. "And Drew, as she already said, this is Mantheana. We met earlier this year. I've mentioned her, haven't I?"
Drew looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded uncertainly. "I think so," he replied. Turning to Mantheana, he extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mantheana."
Mantheana shook his hand in a lady-like fashion. "The pleasure is mine I am sure." She turned to Daye "I love vot you haf done vith the place. It looks so different from when I came here last…"
Daye grinned. "Thanks," she said. "I didn't want to remind anyone of the bookshop, of work, or whatever. I just wanted to use this as a chance for all my friends to meet. It's going pretty well, I think."
Daye turned to Jessica. "Where's Will, anyway," Daye asked her. "I thought you would bring him along."
“After yesterday, no. I didn’t think it a very good idea what with his background in the Council and after what you told me went on in LA earlier in the year. He seemed a bit strange though when I said I was going, but never mind.”
Daye shrugged. "Oh, well," she grinned mischievously. "I thought maybe I could tease him a bit more, is all."
The band started to play a nice, mellow song, and Daye found the music nearly as uplifting as the company. The room had a festive feel. Daye just wanted to enjoy it.
“This is nice,” Drew whispered in her ear. “You’ve done a good job here.”
Daye flushed with pleasure. It had taken a lot out of her, but this party was well worth it.
“Thanks, love,” she brought her mouth to Drew’s ear to speak the words. “I am really proud of how this is going. And I’m really glad we can share it.”
Drew smiled warmly at her words, stroking her side with his hand. Daye sighed. Why had she thought there was anything wrong between her and Drew? This was heaven.
Tash and Victor approached, and Daye was glad to see that the other woman seemed much more relaxed. As relaxed as a vampire hunter could be in the same room with a vampire, anyway.
"Hi, you two," she said. "You look great. May I introduce Mantheana? These are good friends of mine, Tash and Victor," Daye said to Mantheana, indicating the couple. "I met Mantheana a few months ago, under sort of odd circumstances. I've known Tash and Victor, on the other hand, for quite a while."
Daye gazed around the room, surreptitiously checking on how things were going. Victor seemed to have hit it off with Mantheana, not that that was surprising. They were both very self possessed people. It figured they might get along. Plus, Victor was well travelled, so they had probably been to a lot of the same places.
Drew chose that moment to lean in and nuzzle Daye on the neck. Daye giggled. “Stop,” she said, laughing.
“I can’t,” Drew whispered. “You smell so good.”
Drew nipped at Daye’s ear, and she melted. “You taste even better.”
Daye cuddled up to him. “You smell good too,” Daye replied. Then she gave him a quick once over. “You sure are pretty all dressed up, Mr. Langley.”
Drew chuckled. “Well, then, don’t we make a pretty pair?” Drew couldn’t help but admire Daye in her shimmery white dress, flirting around her ankles. The neckline was a deep oval, with halter style straps hugging her behind the neck. Her arms and shoulders were bare and she had worn strappy white sandals to match. Her fingernails and toenails were painted a flirty pink. She looked damn sexy.
“Want to go sit?” Daye asked, guiding him towards one of the tables. Drew nodded, following close.
Daye and Drew settled into the table, holding hands and talking in whispers. Melissa came by and took their drink orders and came back a few minutes later with their drinks. Daye and Drew sipped at the drinks and listened contentedly to the band playing.
Daye glanced around, noticing that Kate and Galen had arrived. Drew had just finished his drink and was looking around too. She noticed his gaze alight on his friend Chinaka, standing at the bar. “Why don’t you go over and say hi?” Daye suggested. Drew turned back to her, looking a bit guilty.
Daye was watching Drew across the crowded room. He had just reached Chinaka, and Daye could sense his discomfort as the young woman blatantly flirted with him. *I wonder if I should be offended,* she mused, watching as he was introduced to the vampire in their midst. Since he didn't flinch or blanch, Daye could only assume no one had told him that yet. She was amused to see how flustered meeting the stunning creature left Drew. Daye was so intent on watching her lover that she failed to notice at first that Kate had come over and sat down beside her.
Kate watched patiently while Daye’s gaze lingered on Drew’s form as he moved across the room to the bar. “Daye?” she called gently, touching her arm to gain her attention. “How are you?”
Daye turned to Kate, dragging her eyes away from Drew. She actually seemed shocked to see Kate there. "Oh, Kate," Daye smiled slightly. "When did you and Galen get here? I missed it. Some hostess I'm turning out to be, huh?"
“We only just arrived,” said Kate blushing slightly. She looked around the room - everyone seemed to be having a good time getting to know everyone. “I’d say the party was a huge success.” Daye smiled appreciatively, and then glanced again in Drew’s direction.
“I feel pretty bad actually,” Kate continued, “I’ve been meaning to come and see you all week, only, well I’ve not been sleeping properly and then, well it’s not important.” Kate frowned, noticing Daye’s distracted state. She followed her gaze to glance at Drew once more. “Is everything all right between Drew and yourself?”
Daye looked thoughtful. Kate's question seemed out of place. Why would she ask that? Of course, everything was all right with Drew. They were in love. They hadn't seen much of each other over the last week or two, but Daye was busy and Drew understood that. She was tired too.
"Yes," Daye said brightly, "of course, everything is fine. Why wouldn't it be?"
“Well it’s just, you know?” Kate frowned; Daye didn’t seem to have a clue what she was talking about. Kate continued, lowering her voice slightly, “The whole thing with Ryan?”
Daye blinked, apparently thrown by Kate's comment. "Ryan?" she parroted. "Huh? What about Ryan? He's..."
Daye's voice trailed off and her eyes became unfocused. She looked for all the world like she was suddenly lost in her own thoughts.
Kate frowned again. “Daye…?” she asked, as her friend once more seemed to wander off into a world of her own. This time Daye didn’t look up, just continuing to stare into space. “Daye??” said Kate more urgently, reaching out to touch her arm.
Daye shook herself, as if coming out of a daze. "Whu...," she blinked, once slowly, and it was as if a light suddenly came on inside. "Ryan. Oh, he's my friend. My very closest friend. You've got nothing to worry about, Kate." Daye laughed as if she thought Kate's concern were just silly.
“You’ve got to be kidding?” said Kate in surprise at Daye’s flippant tone. “He barged his way into your home! He practically threatened Galen and me when we stood in his way. The man has no regard for your feelings at all!”
Kate sighed in frustration, “Daye I didn’t tell you this because I didn’t want to add to your problems but, well I don’t trust Ryan, there’s something about him… he has such hatred inside of him.”
Daye looked confused for a moment. Then her gaze grew cold. "Don't say that," she snapped. "Ryan loves me. He doesn't hate anyone. He's gentle and kind. You don't even know him."
“Loves you?” cried Kate incredulously. “I don’t need to know him to see that he’s obsessed with you, not in love. Why can’t you see it? And anyway, what does it matter how he feels about you! You’re with Drew, you love Drew, don’t you?”
Daye seemed to grow more agitated by this question. "Well," she said, "yes, of course." Her voice lacked conviction. "It's just that Ryan and I had so much together once. He really understands me. Drew is sweet. I care for him, but he's not Ryan. It's very different with him. I just don't want you to say anything bad about Ryan. He's been through so much."
Kate felt uncomfortable. This wasn’t Daye, not the Daye she knew. There was something else going on, of that she was sure. Daye was acting so distant and confused. Kate had noticed the way she had shrugged her hand away when she had touched her too.
“Daye, you’re my best friend. I’m only trying to look out for you. You said yourself Ryan isn’t the same man you knew all those years ago, and you’re right. He has been through a lot, maybe it’s had an effect on him somehow. I just want you to be careful.”
Daye looked angrier as each word left Kate's mouth. Her eyes would go distant as she listened. She was somewhere else as well as here. In her mind, she heard and saw Ryan, loving her, protecting her. She couldn't understand why Kate didn't know that too. "Kate, you are my friend," she said coolly. "My friend, not my mother. I know what I'm doing. I'm fine. Just let it go, okay?"
Kate’s face visibly crumpled as Daye’s unfriendly words hit her. She resisted the urge to say something else and sank back into the chair in defeat.
Daye seemed pleased that Kate had given up. She smiled pleasantly at her and began to chat amicably about the shop and other trivial things. She almost seemed to forget their confrontation.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Tash had finally started to relax a little, talking to Jess. She was still keeping an eye on Parasol, though. Victor returned and she slipped an arm around his waist, snuggling close to him. "She was at the Czar's court? But there hasn't been a Czar since 1917." Tash's eyes flicked over to the pale woman, "So what's her deal?" Tash whispered, "She doesn't feel like a demon."
Victor replied, "She's not. Some sort of cult from what I gathered. She's immortal, but very much alive. I could feel her soul. Melancholy, dark, cold, and very Russian. She has a daughter who's mortal and about five years old. She's a fascinating person.”
Tash started to reply just as the door next to them opened. She turned to see Kate and Galen entering. "Kate! Galen! Good to see you." Tash perused their slightly dishevelled appearance and jabbed Victor in the ribs. "See? We could have taken an extra half-hour, but you didn't want to be late..."
Kate entered to see Tash standing with Victor and Jess just slightly to the side of the door. She smiled and walked over to where they stood. “Hi guys, looks like a good party." She caught a glimpse of Daye sitting to one side with Drew. "And we've yet to be faced with apocalypse; that must count as a success."
Tash grinned, "And no life-threatening magic rituals yet, either. Though," and her smile faded, "we do have a vampire."
Tash watched Parasol for a second, and the vampire's eyes flicked up to meet hers. Brown eyes gazed into green eyes across the expanse of floor separating them. Tash shivered and turned her head back to Kate. "Not sure exactly what the deal is there, yet," Tash finished.
"Hello." Mantheana joined the group to stand next to Jess. She was smiling in the unnerving way she usually did. "Met any vun you know? There is interesting company to be held vith the un-human, I have found. "
“Yeah, this is Tash,” Jess replied to Mantheana, slightly unsure at how Tash would react to her.
Victor elaborated, “I told you about her earlier. We've been together a few months.”
Mantheana smiled coolly, “Good evening. I hadn't the chance to speak vith you earlier. I hear you’re vun of the few human guests.”
Victor chuckled lightly and Tash grinned, “Yeah, we have a few actual humans here, I believe,” she said.
Victor added, “Including your friend. Jessie, was it?”
“Yes, that's me. Hi.” Jess replied.
Tash looked carefully at Mantheana. “ I'm just curious - I know you can't be human, from what Victor told me. Forgive any rudeness, but I'm just not sure what...?”
Mantheana smiled politely. “Coldling.”
Tash looked blank. “I'm afraid I've not heard of Coldlings.”
Mantheana said, “Er... No body heat. You kind of do a trade. Heat for life. Although immortality is not all it’s cracked up to be.”
Tash laughed quietly and soberly, “Yeah, I've kind of gathered that.” She glanced over at Victor as she answered Mantheana.
Victor spoke to Jess, “All these friends from England. Are you with Sindell, or are you a Watcher? I figure either one is a safe guess.”
Jess replied, “Watcher. It's nice to meet you, Victor.”
Victor looked at Jess warily.” Watcher, eh? Are you a watcher like Daye is a Watcher? You know... watch? Or are you a watcher like the ones that mess around in people's lives?”
Jess was surprised at Victor’s question, then she grinned. “One of the ones that watches their slayer and doesn't pry into other peoples’ or... demons’… lives.”
Victor shook Jess’ hand. “Nice to meet you then. And please, keep it under your hat.”
Jess reassured Victor, “Will do.”
Mantheana reached out to shake Tash's hand. Tash held out her hand to Mantheana in return. She could feel the cold even through the glove.
“Wow, I see what you mean by trading body heat,” Tash noted. She sipped from her drink. “I must admit, I’m fascinated.”
“Aha,” Mantheana laughed mirthlessly. “Yes. Some people seem to be. So I tend not to say. But every vun here seems to know vhat every vun is so I decided to join in.”
Tash nodded, “Fair enough. It's weird. Usually we're all a pretty paranoid bunch. For some reason we're more open than usual tonight.”
Mantheana probed, “So, Tash, what is your profession? I'm intrigued. There is a strong smell of holy water about you. Are you a priest?
“Priest?” Tash laughed, “Hardly. No, it's the hunting that causes that. I’m a vampire hunter. Never leave home without a couple of vials.”
Mantheana nodded, “I see. Better safe than sorry. I always make sure my daughter has a cross on her.”
Tash blinked. “Yes, Victor had said something about you having a five year-old daughter. Forgive my ignorance, but from what you’ve told me I would have guessed that was difficult for a Coldling.”
Victor heard the opening strains of ‘I belong to you’ from the band. He turned to Tash, “I feel like dancing.”
Tash smiled at Mantheana, “Excuse me... Lovely to meet you.” She slipped her hand under Victor’s arm. “Lead on, love.”
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Parasol walked carefully through the crowd inhabiting the center of the room, heading to the bar. Chinaka was engaged in an animated conversation with the bartender, all smiles and hair flips. Damn, that girl was just too much.
Chinaka looked up from the very fine face of the bartender to see Parasol coming her way. She turned coolly to her as she approached.
"Chinaka, can I have a word with you?" Parasol needed to get her out of earshot to say what she needed to say.
"I can hear right here with, Hector, is it?" The man smiled and nodded.
*Ok. If that's the way you want it.* "Chinaka, you should be careful where you invite me."
Chinaka just barely contained her fury for the sake of the absolutely gorgeous bartender. "Well, I wouldn't know that, would I?"
Parasol could feel her vitriol but decided against retaliating at this time. That poor Daye woman was having serious party anxiety and she didn't want to add to that. "No, you wouldn't. I'm sorry." Parasol demurred "At least there are nice and beautiful people here." Parasol nodded at the bartender who smiled back.
“No kidding," Chinaka smiled and perused the room. "Who left the model door open?"
Parasol was glad for Chinaka's tension breaking joke and smiled, as did the bartender, though she was sure he had no idea what they were talking about.
"Look, Chinaka, we'll talk... I promise. That is assuming I make it out of here in something bigger than a dust bin." Parasol could see Tash (was it?), talking to another young woman, but Tash kept that same jaundiced eye on her.
Chinaka saw Drew heading her way and positively thrummed. Hector was great fun, but she didn't want to just hang on the bartender all night. Besides, she wanted to introduce Drew to Parasol.
"Drew!" Chinaka squealed a little too loudly. Several heads in the room turned, foremost Daye.
Chinaka didn't really care. Hopefully, he'd already heard about Parasol and would guess and help out with her predicament. Parasol said she'd talk, but Chinaka knew that was going to be on her timetable and she just couldn't wait for that. Chinaka liked the way he walked or rather strode the room. As he approached, she leaned over and said to Parasol, "That's Drew, the guy I told you about."
Parasol glanced at her progeny sidelong and shook her head. That's all she needed -- bunches of angry women -- with stakes. *Help me, oh great and powerful Oz -- Just get me out of here intact without some woman ready to bitch slap Miss Thing here.* Parasol stuck out her hand to meet this Drew guy and prayed.
Drew smiled at the two women. Chinaka was lovely in her party outfit, with her huge smile and sparkling eyes focused on Drew's every motion.
Drew was glad that Chinaka had come. He really had been impressed with her on their first meeting, although her flirtatious nature did make him feel a bit awkward. He came to a stop beside his new friend, and took her hand in his own, grasping it firmly and smiling shyly at her.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” Drew said. “I can’t wait for you to meet Amanda. And who is this?” he asked, turning to Parasol.
"This is my Auntie Parasol. Remember, I told you about her. She owns the gallery with me."
Drew gazed at Parasol for a moment, transfixed. This woman was stunning, really beautiful, with an undeniable magnetism. He felt overwhelmed by her. Drew flushed, and stammered, “H…hello.” He stuck out his hand.
*Hey, wait a minute. If he's not looking at Daye, he's supposed to be looking at me.* Chinaka thought.
Parasol tilted her head to the side to look at the man. She saw an open, honest face that probably couldn't lie if it wanted to. She also saw the lovely redhead Daye watching, not possessively, but just the way a woman is supposed to watch her man watching another woman. Parasol admired that. And she took his hand to shake it.
Drew shook her hand, and said to Chinaka in a stage whisper, "She's your aunt? You must be about the same age." Something about his comment must have struck the two women as funny because they both started to laugh at the same time.
Drew was confused about their laughter. He’d obviously said the wrong thing. His shaky confidence failing, Drew muttered something about getting drinks and wandered off, leaving them to snicker together.
Chinaka didn't notice that he had left until she turned around, mid-snicker. He must have misunderstood something. She couldn't let him just walk away like that. But he had regained his position beside Daye and looked briefly at the two women.
“Is something wrong?” Daye asked, taking his hand. He appeared a bit put out.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Drew replied. “I think I’m missing something.”
"You embarrassed him," Chinaka hurled at Parasol.
"Me!? Look, you need to cool your jets. That man is obviously your hostess' significant other so stop acting like a schoolgirl. Now I'm gonna go face a roomful of people that don't want me here to explain ourselves. No! You stay here and talk to," Parasol turned to the bartender, "Hector, is it? He did fine for you before Drew came. Hector - keep her company." And Parasol stalked off across the room. *This is going to end badly, I just know it.*
daye's party post part 2
After a while, Kate excused herself, and Daye went back to watching Drew across the room. He was chatting with Chinaka and Parasol. Then, he suddenly blushed and headed back to the table. Daye could tell something had upset him when he got there.
“Is something wrong?” Daye asked, taking his hand. He appeared a bit put out.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Drew replied. “I think I’m missing something.
Daye realized immediately what had probably happened. Chinaka and Parasol both knew that Parasol was a vampire. Drew didn’t. He was probably a bit confused. Daye was just about to explain to Drew about Parasol when the woman approached them.
Parasol reached Drew and Daye. “You've made quite an impression on my niece, Drew. Daye, did you tell your friend what I am?
Daye looked a little embarrassed, “Not just yet,” Daye replied.
Drew looked at Daye strangely. She laid a hand on his arm, ready to soften the blow. He’d seen a lot of things lately he hadn’t expected to. This was just yet another blow to his innocence.
Daye spoke to Drew. “Apparently, Parasol here is a vampire.” She waited expectantly, unable to predict his reaction. He handled these things pretty well, but it was a far cry from benevolent Wicca to blood sucking vampiric fiend.
Drew looked shocked. He stared at Parasol, his eyes round and fearful. *First witches, then ghosts, now vampires,* he thought. *This gets weirder and weirder every day.* "She? Here? Is it s...s…safe?” he stammered.
Parasol spoke gently, “Which is why we were giggling. We didn't mean to embarrass you. I assure you, I’m safe as houses. I'm 170ish.”
Drew said, “Sorry, I didn't know. I mean, I… uh… sorry.” *That does explain the joke,* he thought. *Wow, a real live vampire. I wish I had some equipment with me.*
Parasol shrugged, “No reason for you to know, nor a reason to be sorry.”
Drew look of consternation turned to a smile. That was true. And if Daye trusted her to be here, who was he to argue. She was the expert on this sort of thing as far as he was concerned. “Friends, then?”
Parasol smiled, “Friends. And just so you both know, Chinaka is an energetic young woman who means no harm other than sucking up all the attention in any given room.”
Drew blanched at the word 'sucking'. Was Chinaka a vampire too? But how, he’d met her at that gallery in the middle of the day. From all he knew, vampires sort of had to avoid the sunlight, so mid day shifts were a definite no-no.
Parasol laughed, “Attention. She sucks attention.”
Everyone laughed, albeit a bit nervously for some.
Daye was watching Victor and Tash intently across the room. They were off by themselves, and she got the feeling that they were discussing something very important. She turned back to Parasol and Drew when the former said her name.
Parasol enquired, “Daye, how did you like the print that Drew here bought at our gallery?”
Daye thought of the gift and smiled. She was about to respond, when Parasol asked a completely unexpected question.
Drew waited for Daye to say she liked the picture, like an expectant puppy, but Parasol interrupted, “Daye, do you mind if I borrow Drew to dance, because I really did come to dance?”
Drew looked stunned, but waited patiently for permission from Daye.
Daye looked around for Kate, Tash, somebody. “Um, well...” she stammered. She was not entirely comfortable with the idea of Drew dancing with this sexy vampire.
Drew followed Daye’s gaze to the corner where Tash and Victor were sitting very close together. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking. However, Parasol seemed to pick up on her reluctance.
Parasol sighed, “I understand perfectly,” and made her way to the bar.
Drew was waiting patiently for Daye to ask about a dance, but she seemed caught up in whatever drama was unfolding between Tash and Victor in the corner. Finally she turned to him, noticing his expression. “Oh, honey,” she said contritely, “you’re not having any fun, are you?”
Drew shook his head adamantly. “Of course I am,” he said. “I’m here with you. I just thought maybe you’d like to dance.”
As Daye listened to his words, her head did a lazy spin. Suddenly she felt so tired, and a bit dizzy. The room seemed so crowded and hot. “I don’t think I’m up for that right now,” she said. “I think maybe I should get some air, check on Joshua. See how things are going and all. I’m sorry, Drew.”
Drew looked disappointed. He really just wanted to pull Daye into his arms and cradle her there. Her skin was pale and her eyes were distant. He felt more and more that somehow he was losing her.
“I know,” Daye stated, suddenly cheerful. “Why don’t you go ask your friend Chinaka to dance? She’d sitting over at the bar looking bored and pouty. I’m sure she’d love to dance with you. And, as my co-host, it’s sort of your job to see the guests stay happy.”
Drew frowned. He supposed Daye was right, and it was a party. She had things to take care of and he understood that, but he didn’t want to miss out on all the fun. Although he felt odd about leaving Daye alone to go and dance with another woman, especially such and attractive and flirtatious one, he nodded reluctantly. “If you think I should,” he said.
“Yes, of course you should,” Daye replied, rising to her feet. She wandered off, and Drew watched her disappear, then made his way quickly over to where Chinaka sat at the bar.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Kate tiredly left the table, leaving Daye to watch Drew across the room. She couldn’t understand what had happened to Daye to make her change so much, could it really have been so long since she had confessed her anxiety about Ryan’s return? And now here she was defending him like he was her best friend. Kate couldn’t account for the sudden change in Daye’s affections and she felt a stab of guilt when she saw Drew return to his lover and take her hand warmly.
Kate sighed as she stood idly, surrounded by strangers. She saw Tash, Victor and Jess were talking to a tall, pale skinned woman with long dark hair. She looked foreign, maybe European thought Kate, she’d never seen her before, and she didn’t have the sort of face you’d forget easily.
Her attention was momentarily distracted as a nervous laughter rose from Daye and Drew’s table; they had been joined by the vampire Parasol and a younger girl. When she turned back Tash and Victor had excused themselves from their new acquaintances and were wrapped in each other’s arms on the dance floor. Kate smiled slightly, it still looked so strange to see Victor in his new ‘face’.
Kate was beginning to wonder whether this party had been such a good idea after all. It certainly wasn’t turning out to be as much fun as she had hoped. Glancing around the room in an attempt to find a familiar face, Kate was surprised to see Galen still sat at the bar, all alone, nursing his drink. She smiled, he had that effect on her, she saw him, she thought of him and she couldn’t help but smile. Finally feeling her mood lighten she turned and made her way towards the bar.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Parasol was used to being rebuffed. Vampires were not the most welcome beings in the universe. She stood sipping her scotch looking and not looking at the rather impressive assortment of books on the supernatural Daye had at her shop. Her feelings were hurt somewhat that Drew wouldn't dance with her but she couldn't blame the humans. Everyone's got a self-preservation streak.
Parasol looked around the room and caught site of Victor and his evil-eyed female human thingy -- Tash -- was that her name? Parasol chuckled at her own female tendencies, vampire notwithstanding. Of course her name is Tash; Parasol heard her name at least 15 times already. Parasol stood in the bookshelves, trying not to lurk, watching Victor and Tash coo at each other and considered the only pleasant conversation she's had this evening -- outside with Victor before she entered this lion's den called the Party at the Bibliophile.
*Yeah,* Parasol thought. She ventured that was going to be the only welcoming face she was going to see tonight. Damn Chinaka for bringing her here and damn herself for coming. Parasol shook off her silly weak stupid human hurt feelings, squared her shoulders, turned to the room full of beings pumping blood through their veins like she used to, put on the smile Scavullo ironically called "sunshine" and strode to the table of food.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Galen made straight for the bar as Kate went to speak with Daye. Although he was still hesitant about drinking after the events earlier that week, he was finally getting his legs under him again. Sitting down at the bar with his drink, he found that he got a chance to reflect on everything that had transpired over the past few days.
Seeing Tash with the other man was a bit of a shock until he remembered the conversation with Kate over dinner, when he heard about what happened. Victor needed to change his appearance, so she made him a glamour. He was utterly amazed at her skill with it. Victor really did look like a completely different. It would be interesting to know how (if it all) it would affect things like his aura, and how much magical ability would be required to detect it.
Then there was the incident on Wednesday. The one thing stopping him from getting up to mingle with the guests was the question that he really did not know if she would stay silent or not dig. Finding out the hard way was not an experience he relished at the moment. So he stayed at the bar, observing what was going on.
*Oh crap!* he thought. The mysterious note. Even at this time, he could not escape the spectre of Majestic 12. Was the note from a friend or an enemy? He had no way of knowing, but knew that he would have to act on it. It was the one lead he had left now to search. Despite the fact that it could be genuine, someone could also be trying to set him up. *I could be dead soon. Hopefully, they won’t do anything to Kate and will come for me.*
All of those thoughts were banished from his mind when Kate got up and began to walk in his direction, a look of concern on her face which turned to a smile as she noticed Galen watching her. He smiled back, wondering just what had transpired between her and Daye. “You kind of looked like the lone gunman over here,” she teased, sitting down next to him and ordering a glass of red wine.
“Well, it’s not the grassy knoll,” Galen joked, knowing that he should try to be less paranoid but failing. “However, I think I can still make the shot and get away with the proper set up.”
Kate smiled as Hector handed over her wine. She took a long drink, trying to forget the conversation she'd just had with Daye. "You know, the aim of a party is to mingle, talk to people? Not just sit by the bar all on your lonesome. Or have I been neglecting you?" she asked with a slight grin.
“Not at all,” he replied, thinking about how enjoyable the past few days had been with her. “I don’t know, I guess I just haven’t been in a talkative mood tonight. No matter how much I try to relax, I just keep thinking about work.”
Kate's smile faded slightly for a moment and she seemed lost in thought. But it was only a second's hesitation before Kate put down her drink and her expression brightened. "Oh you seemed pretty relaxed earlier," she grinned placing her hand on Galen's knee. "And I bet work never even crossed your mind."
Galen smiled back, downing his drink in one gulp before calling Hector for a refill. What she said was certainly true. “Of course work never crossed my mind – it was all focused on you.” Before she could say anything else, he turned back to her and placed his hand on her cheek. “I love you, Kate, no matter what happens, please remember that.”
Kate looked at Galen worriedly. Why did she always feel so on edge when he said things like that? It was almost like he was planning on leaving her.
"I know," she said softly, taking his hand in her own. Then she smiled again and looked around the room at the other partygoers. As her eyes fell on Daye and Drew still sitting across the room with the vampire woman Parasol her smile dropped again. She turned back to the bar and ordered another drink.
He noticed a worried look for the briefest of moments cross her face after saying that to her. He had to tell her the truth one day, but couldn’t. Which was when he remembered something else that Kate said to him.
“Sorry, I’m just slightly paranoid is all when there’s a lot of strangers around.” Galen grinned at her. “Though if a certain redhead were to introduce a bona fide paranoid to her friends….”
“Well I can do that but I think you know about as many people here as I do!” said Kate laughing. “There’s Daye and Drew, Jessica - you met her before remember, before you went to… well before you went away. I think that woman is called, um, it’s something like, umbrella… no, um Parasol! That’s it! And then there’s Tash and the new ‘improved’ Victor who are sitting all by themselves in the corner of the room - that’s odd.”
“I still find it hard to believe that’s the same person. You really are amazing,” Galen said, leaning over to Kate to kiss her cheek. Slipping an arm around her waist, he continued, “and I don’t think it’s too odd. Think they just want to be alone with each other.”
His mind drifted back some to the time right before he had to leave. “Jessica was teaching you to fight some, wasn’t she? I could help you two out with that, if you wanted to talk to her later.”
Kate tried hard to stiffle her giggles but it was useless, she burst into a fit of laughter. "You?! oh Galen I'm, I'm so sorry!" she spluttered uncontrollably. "I'm sorry," she repeated, still unable to hide her amusment, "but in the time I've known you..." she looked at Galen, whose face was wrinkled into a slight frown.
"But, but you have other talents! Yes, other talents..." said Kate grinning again "... that far out weigh your urm, diminished combat skills," Kate bit her lip hesitantly. "Did I mention that I love you?" she added.
Galen feigned a hurt look. “My fighting skills aren’t that bad. Okay, so I was knocked out by falling debris that one time, and then there was that vampire… and being caught by Serapis.” A playful grin came over his face. “Hey, wait a minute! You’re bad luck. I only get knocked out around you.”
"Oh, well maybe I should go then?" said Kate playfully rising to her feet. "Before you get struck by lightning because of me."
“Oh no, you aren’t that bad,” Galen said, stopping her. “Here, let me buy you another drink. Just make sure to duck, since lightning always hits the tallest object.” Kate laughed again and sat back down, as he called Hector over for a few more drinks.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Parasol made her way to the bar. “Hector, would you dance with me?”
Hector grinned, “A fine woman like you? Yes Ma'am!”
Chinaka protested, “Hey!”
Parasol smiled, “Thank you, Hector. I came to dance.”
As Parasol led him to the dance floor, Hector left the bottle of scotch in front of Galen. Hector then proceeded to demonstrate that the myth about black men and rhythm really was a myth, but he danced with gusto.
Parasol tried not to wince, *My toes. My toes!*
Henna downed three tequilas in a row, made a face and disappeared out the back for a minute. Joshua looked shocked as Henna passed him and he stared at her departure for a long time before following her.
Chinaka sulked as she watched Parasol dancing with Hector. Then Drew tapped her on the shoulder and held out a hand.
“Well, finally!” Chinaka said.
Drew smiled, “As co-host it is my duty to see everyone is enjoying themselves.”
On the dance floor, Parasol wished for a slower song.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Victor and Tash danced to the music for this song at least. Tash enjoyed the sensation of snuggling next to Victor, but kept one eye on the activity in the room. Victor held her tight - so she couldn’t throw the stake easily.
Tash kissed Victor lightly as the music ended. “Hmm, that was nice.” Victor wasn’t sure if she meant the dance or the kiss – or both.
He whispered to Tash, “I love you. I am glad we are here together.” He gestured to a quiet spot. “Come over here a minute, I want to show you something.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
Tash stared at it, not daring to believe what it might be. She asked Victor suspiciously, “What is it?”
Victor took a breath. “We’ve been together for a few months and these things mean a lot to humans as far as I can tell. You and I are not planning to leave each other. This is for you. From my heart.”
He thrust the box at her awkwardly and Tash took it, in a daze. She opened it and lifted the delicate tissue paper inside. Tash found all her thoughts had stopped. The hubbub in the room faded as her world contracted to her, Victor and the gorgeous ring she was staring at. Tears prickled behind her eyes.
“It's beautiful,” she said breathlessly. Tash looked up at Victor. “You know you'll only get 30 or 40 years? Assuming some vampire doesn't get me earlier?
Victor gazed into Tash's eyes. “ Every second I get will be worth it.”
“I love you, Victor. With all my heart and soul.”
Tash gazed at the ring again. She took it from the box and held it to the light, watching the stone sparkle. Her eyes shone, “Yes,” she whispered.
Victor kissed her. He thought he heard an anguished cry from Vrithetek as his heart soared.
Hector's gyrations sent both him and Parasol into the middle of Tash and Victor. Victor hardly noticed he was under a huge black man. He rolled Hector off, gently brushing him aside and shoving him the other way.
Parasol backed up quickly, running into Tash. Tash stumbled as Hector and Parasol careened into them. She clutched convulsively at the ring as the force knocked it from her hand.
Kate was about to say something to Galen when the commotion over in the corner of the room distracted her. She saw the barman Hector rolling around on top of Victor, while Tash held possessively onto a ring. Galen followed Kate’s gaze, concerned at the commotion in the centre of the room, unsure whether to laugh or panic.
Parasol saw the sparkling stone tumbling through the air and caught it.
Tash turned to find herself face to face with the vampire. The two women, hunter and vampire, stared at each other for a moment.
“Nice ring,” Parasol said, “I'd have had one too, over 100 years ago.”
“Thank you.” Tash stammered, still not believing events herself, “I... I just... I'm going to marry Victor.”
Parasol handed the ring to Tash who took it, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Victor moved smoothly in next to Tash.
Parasol continued, “ Of course you know, it's not the ring, it's the love that matters... so I hear.”
Tash’s heart was pounding, “It must be so hard, losing life... and all that entails.” It must be the shock of Victor’s proposal, she decided, that enabled her to sympathise to any extent with a vampire.
“Harder losing G-G-G, the supreme being whatever that is,” Parasol replied. “But that brat over there is here because of it.”
Victor responded to Parasol. “The divine moves. We only follow in its wake. You may not be able to touch it, but it touches you every day you are here.”
Parasol nodded, “For that, I'm happy.”
“It has touched me through her,” Victor looked at Tash lovingly. He was wearing an enormous grin.
Mantheana overheard the news and walked over. “Congratulations, Tash. You make such a lovely couple. It couldn't have happened to a nicer lady.” She turned to Victor, “And you, Victor, make her happy.”
Tash held on to Victor for support, her head whirling with a myriad conflicting thoughts and emotions. But one thing she was sure of. Tash gazed up at Victor. “Yes, Mantheana. Yes he does. Very happy.”
“That’s all vonderful for you two.” Mantheana smiled then went to sit down away from the hubbub. Tash sensed an overwhelming sadness and regret from the pale, cold woman.
Tash slipped over to a quiet corner with Victor, snagging a fresh drink along the way. She tried to gather her scattered thoughts. She'd never so much as considered this possibility. She just assumed she and Victor would go on as they had been. But this was... overwhelming. And wonderful.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Parasol stared at Victor and Tash, tears forming at her bottom lids. She turned and joined Mantheana, sitting beside her.
Mantheana nodded to Parasol, “Good evening.”
Parasol composed herself from the shock of focused emotion and replied, “ Good evening.”
“Nice to meet a decent vampire, I believe,” Mantheana said, at which Parasol both laughed and cried.
Undaunted, Mantheana continued, “I'm sorry you lost your soul, but at least you haven’t lost your faith. I lost that a long time ago.”
“My faith,” Parasol mused for a moment, turning the word around in her brain and searching her still heart. Her faith was there. She regarded the woman with grateful eyes. “I'm Parasol,” she introduced herself.
“Mantheana. Charmed I'm sure,” Mantheana held out her hand.
Parasol exclaimed, “My, you're cold to even me.”
“Mmm. I guess I am.”
“Russia?”
“Yeys. Have you been?”
Parasol nodded, “Briefly. Right before they... changed everything.”
“Yeys. That vasn't a good time.”
“However, zere are good times here. I don't often like to dvell on the past. It holds too much pain”
“And not for long,” Parasol continued, “I was a rare sight. And too much attention is not good for me.”
Mantheana smiled, ”Ah, a girl after my own heart.”
“Did I hear you have a child?”
“Yeys. She's my future. I don’t need the past.”
Parasol nodded towards where Chinaka stood, “That young woman there is my great, great, great, great, great granddaughter. I've seen all their futures. I don't want the past.”
Mantheana said, “And I shall see Maria’s vun day. Vhat is it like, outliving your child?”
Parasol looked into Mantheana's maroon eyes. “It will break your heart.”
“I thought it might.” Mantheana wiped a tear.
“Want to see if they have any GOOD vodka?”
“Oh yeys. An item hard to find in zis neighbourhood!” Mantheana rose and walked to the bar, Parasol following her.
Bibliophile Brawl - part one
Tash noticed Kate looking their way, a grin on her face. Tash grinned in reply. Galen glanced at Kate, “Shall we find out what those two are so happy about?”
Kate smiled, “It wouldn't take a genius to figure that one out!”
Henna came back in, straightening her new dress. Joshua appeared shortly after, looking sheepish.
Melissa was occupied with spiking the fruit punch with an entire bottle of vodka, just to see what would happen.
Chinaka was beginning to wonder if the band was ever gonna play good music as Hector excused himself to Victor and Tash and went back to tending bar.
In their corner, Victor took the ring and placed it on Tash's finger. She gaped at it for a moment longer before turning to Victor. “I have to say, love, you've left me speechless.” She hit him lightly on the arm. “You could have warned me,” she grinned before kissing him long and hard.
Victor returned the kiss. As they broke apart he said, “Shall we go back and join the party?”
Tash sighed, “I suppose we should. It's just... I want to laugh and cry and shout all at the same time.” She stroked his cheek, “And I want to savour this. I love you…”
“I know exactly how you feel. I have been feeling this way all week. You've been a little too preoccupied to notice.”
Tash winced at that. She’d been neglecting Victor for far too long, taking him for granted.
Just then the door slammed open. Jem was standing there with members of the Black Veins behind her holding many weapons. Jem grinned evilly, “ Hi guys, are we late?”
Tash’s head snapped up at the sound of the door banging, “ Oh, shit!” she said, recognising Jem. She turned to Victor, replying to his chiding, “I know... I'm sorry; I have been neglecting you. Oh, geez. But,” she gestured towards Jem, “vampires, you know?”
Galen looked at the door, then turned to Kate, who stood to her feet, glancing at Tash. “Oh, no,” Kate said.
Galen shook his head, “See? I told you,” he said to Kate. “Bad things only happen when I don't bring the gun.”
Mantheana also looked up in surprise. *She really does get everywhere.*
Victor thought, *Fuck.*
Jem wandered inside, surveying the room. Hector stood at the bar, frozen in the act of filling a glass with ice, looking confused. As Jem marched inside, over a dozen other vamps followed her.
Mantheana turned to Parasol, “A not so decent vampire, eh?”
Jem sneered, “Hope you don't mind us crashing; thought we'd have a little fun.”
One of her minions quipped, “Looks like a party we weren’t invited to, Jem.”
Galen was wishing he had the sense to at least bring a stake.
Tash rose smoothly to her feet, murmuring to Victor, “I don't suppose you brought anything for this sort of situation?”
Victor looked around at the bent-wood chairs and grabbed one, pulling it apart and tossing legs towards Drew, Parasol, and Mantheana, keeping one for himself.
Mantheana caught her stake and watched, bemused while Jess turned to the vampires, grabbing a stake from her handbag.
Drew caught his, looking around frantically for Daye, who was nowhere to be seen. In his head he knew she could take care of herself, but his heart was panicking. He moved away from the others, advancing on the vamps and praying Daye was safe in the back somewhere.
Tash handed Victor one of her precious vials of holy water. She hefted the other vial in one hand while slipping out her stake with the other.
Victor shrugged at Parasol, “The downside of socializing with us. Unhappy endings.”
Parasol held onto the stake she’d been given and motioned for Chinaka to get behind her. Chinaka sidled behind Parasol. Parasol whispered to Chinaka, “Just like we did at Mrs. Prosper's, okay? Got Holy Water?
Chinaka looked rueful, “Living with you - always.”
Kate muttered to herself, “Was I the ONLY one who thought weapons of otherworldy destruction didn't go with a party outfit??”
Galen looked at a wooden barstool then broke two of the legs off. He offered one of them to Kate.
Mantheana touched the sword that lay under the folds of her skirt, reassuring herself.
Jem spotted Tash and a look of anger crossed her features. “You know, staking my friend and my boyfriend really wasn't smart. I think I'm going to have to kill you.”
Tash smiled tightly, “ Well, you can try...”
Victor got ready to hurt Jem.
A second minion piped up, “Well I do believe this is the random gang of hunters that have been plaguing our existence since act one. Time to close the curtain I think.”
Mantheana’s only response was to laugh quietly. *There goes ugmo then,* she thought as she rose to stand finally. She spoke up loudly, “Why, if it isn't my little Jemima again!” She walked up to Jem and flashed her smile.
A third lackey spoke up, “Quite a spread, too. So are we gonna dance?”
Jem responded to him, “Why not? Maybe not with you, but…”
Tash’s mouth quirked up at one corner as she faced the vampire who’d spoken. “Sure, I'll dance with you,” she said as she hurled a vial of holy water into the centre of the huddle of vampires.
The first vampire who’d spoken exclaimed, “Fuck! Who brings Holy water to a party?!”
The second minion murmured to Jem, “Remember we need to get the journal... the Crimson Brotherhood will reward us.”
The vampire who’d offered to dance copped the brunt of the holy water. The second lackey and Jem were splashed. The second vamp began to sizzle and smoke.
Jem turned to Mantheana, “Oh, for god’s sake! Do you, like, follow me? I didn't like you when we met over 150 years ago...”
Mantheana replied, “Looks like the feeling is mutual.”
Jem merely responded with, “Hmm, yeah.”
“So vhat is it now you vant to moan about? Vhat’s that about your little Ugmo?” Mantheana smirked.
Bibliophile Brawl - part two
Jem was sick of talking – she gave one of her minions the nod. The minion ran into the back of the shop and began turning over various items and looking in drawers, searching the whole room. Kate saw the vampire slip into the shop's storeroom, she tightened her hold on the stake Galen had given her and followed him.
The vampire was frantically rummaging around in various files when Kate entered the room. She held the stake at waist height, poised for action. “Didn't your mother ever tell you to ask before taking things?” she asked him.
Drew was grappling with a large, unattractive vampire, carefully avoiding blows as he awkwardly wielded the stake. The vampire came rushing at him and Drew rolled, stake up, allowing the creature to impale itself. In moments, he was covered in a nasty ash like litter. Drew dusted off, and rose carefully to his feet as another vampire rushed him. He still had seen no sign of Daye. His stomach clenched as he faced his next opponent.
Tash grabbed the arm of the vampire who’d received the brunt of her holy water attack, pulling him off balance while he was smouldering, and staked him.
Victor ran past Jem and leapt on the two backing her up.
Mantheana bitch slapped Jem round the face. Jem kicked Mantheana in return and moved on to find Tash, kicking out at her. Tash was wishing fervently she'd brought her damn crossbow.
As the fight began in earnest, Henna huddled under a table, watching the action, wide-eyed.
Parasol hissed at Chinaka, “Stay here and stay down.”
Victor held down a couple of vamps, but one managed to wriggle loose from under him. Victor used his chair leg to methodically dust the other.
Parasol went after the vampire that had escaped Victor’s charge and grabbed it by the scruff of its neck. She wrapped one arm around his throat while her other hand thrust the stake smack dab in his heart.
Galen started to run after Kate, pursued by another vampire. The other vampire tackled Galen while he was passing through the door. He rolled over and tried to scramble away from the vampire, getting back to his feet just outside the storeroom.
The vampire in the storeroom stopped his frantic search and studied Kate for a moment. “The red hair, the 'tude; I remember Jem talking about you, the bitch red head witch that helped kill Stu and Grendel six months ago at that magic shop. I've been waiting to face off with you.”
Kate smiled, taking a bold step forward, “And I've just been itching for a chance to kick some more vampire butt. Guess we both get our wishes tonight.”
Tash spotted Jem approaching her and whirled into a spinning back kick, narrowly missing Jem's midriff as the vampiress dodged the blow.
Mantheana unsheathed her sword. One of the rearguard vampires had come forward and was sizing up Mantheana. She stared back, smiled and hit the female vampire around the head. “Don’t come vhere you’re not invited!” she said as the blow landed, “Chances are, no vun vants you there!”
Victor stood in the fray and roared, causing many of the vamps that were standing there to focus on him rather than on the onrushing partygoers.
Parasol looked up to see Victor as the center of attention. She looked around for Tash.
Hector overcame his stunned expression and broke a bottle of Jack Daniels over the head of a vamp then ignited him.
Tash admired Hector's quick thinking as the vampire at the bar combusted, then dodged a blow from Jem as she transferred her attention back to the matter at hand. Tash’s dodge caused her to bump into the vampire facing Mantheana. The female Black Vein grabbed Tash around the neck. Tash lashed out with a foot to fend off Jem while she struggled against the choke hold.
Mantheana used her sword to knock the creature off Tash. Parasol lent a hand, grabbing the vampire, and as Mantheana kicked it in the shin Parasol backhanded it.
“Thanks...” Tash gasped to the unlikely pair. *Rescued by a vampire and a coldling… what a predicament for a hunter.*
Parasol smiled, “You’re welcome. Nice ring.”
Jess tackled a nearby vamp.
Victor grabbed a nearby vampire and twisted his head around backwards. It took a few turns but despite the creature's struggles it finally came off. The vampire disintegrated with a ‘poof’.
Jem kicked Mantheana, then moved on and threw a punch into Tash's face. Mantheana exclaimed, “Ow! The sabaka hasn't got any more mature over how many years?”
Tash almost ducked Jem’s punch, catching a glancing blow to the cheek, and responded with a flurry of kicks and punches, knocking the vampiress back into one of her rearguard.
Mantheana grinned at Tash and Parasol, “Hey, I don't think any vun is a big fan of Jemima ‘round here.”
Parasol stared at Jem, “Jemima? Your name's Jemima?!” She laughed wildly.
Jem scowled, “Hey! I have my fans; they just don't tend to be people who try to kill me every so often.” She punched Parasol.
“No you didn't,” Parasol replied. She smacked Jem back with the heel of her hand.
Galen attempted to stake the vampire coming after him, but they ended up grappling. They stumbled into the storeroom, crashing down on a table and interrupting the banter between Kate and the vampire in there.
Said minion lunged at Kate, who deftly avoided his blow, his fist driving into the wall. Kate marvelled, “Wow, that's some major lack of co-ordination you have there.”
Galen head butted the vampire on top of him, managing to roll out from under it.
Kate used her telekinetic powers to propel her vampire across the room. He hit the far wall with a thud and a moan.
Galen yelled, “For crying out loud, just kill it, Kate!”
Kate twirled the stake in her hand. As the vampire lay on the floor stunned she moved towards him to do just that.
Out in the shop, Drew had dispatched another vampire, and was peering behind the counter, hoping to find Daye there. She wasn’t. He was really starting to panic now. Drew stood, and faced the melee again. He would have to ask her friends for help. He moved into the fracas, his stake held high, blood oozing from various scratches and cuts.
The vampire Jess was grappling with finally succumbed to her attack and exploded into dust.
Victor grabbed a vamp in a bear hug and backed it up to Chinaka. “An assist?” he asked her.
Chinaka obliged by dousing it with holy water. Victor screamed and smoked and dropped the vamp, which was also steaming.
Tash heard Victor scream and looked up. His arms were smouldering and his face had red welts on it. “VICTOR!!!!” she yelled.
*rawhide theme* Brawlin', brawlin', brawlin'....
Tash elbowed Jem in the face and pushed through the brawling throng to reach her lover.
Mantheana clocked Jem one. “Grow up Jemima!” she said.
Parasol clocked Jem two.
Chinaka looked at Victor. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said, horrified. The smouldering vamp pushed Chinaka and tried to pin her down.
Mantheana pushed the vamp off Chinaka. “You shouldn’t be sorry.”
Chinaka grabbed her other bottle of holy water and smashed it into the creature’s mouth. “No, I meant Victor,” she replied to Mantheana. The vampire’s lips peeled back and his head melted before he collapsed into dust.
Mantheana brought her sword down and removed the head of a vampire coming up from behind Chinaka.
Tash reached Victor, grabbed him and dragged him to the kitchen. She filled a large bucket with water and doused him with it, trying to wash the holy water from him.
Tash looked at Victor in concern, “You going to be OK?” She could hear the fight continuing, and knew they were both needed out there.
Victor winced, “Damn, I am not going to be much fun tonight.”
In the storeroom the vampire got up and wrapped an arm around Galen's throat, trying to choke him to death. Galen began moving backwards, knocking the vampire into the wall repeatedly. He was suddenly struck by the thought that he was getting too old for this.
The screams and shouts from out in the shop momentarily distracted Kate, giving her opponent the opportunity he needed. The vampire picked himself off the floor and lunged a second time at Kate, knocking her to the floor. The force of the attack knocked the stake from Kate’s hands and it rolled uselessly across the floor. The vampire grinned as he pinned Kate to the floor, straddling her body and squeezing his hands around her neck.
Kate choked out as the vampire tightened his hold around her throat. Her hands scrambled futilely around the floor searching desperately for the stake.
The vampire saw the stake and picked it up, “Looking for this?” he asked as he raised the stake high, aiming it at Kate’s heart. “Let’s see how you like being on the receiving end for once!” he sneered.
Kate rolled and dodged the weapon as the vampire slammed it down. It hit the floor, only grazing past Kate’s shoulder, scraping the flesh a little. The vampire aimed again and again missed Kate by mere centimetres as she rolled from under his grasp. “Third time lucky witch!” he cried bringing the stake down to bear again.
Instead of rolling Kate loosened one of her arms and managed to catch the stake as it flew at her face. She held onto one end and the vampire held onto the other – each pushing forward with all their strength. With one swift motion Kate kneed the vampire in-between his legs. He moaned in pain and let go of Kate. She punched him hard in the face, pulling herself from under his weight and crawled along the floor, pulling herself up with the edge of an old oak cabinet. “This just stopped being fun,” she groaned.
Galen finally managed to get loose from the other vampire's grasp, then turned and drove the wooden barstool leg through its chest. He tried to recover his breath while the vamp turned to dust. “Thank God....”
Out in the main room, Parasol began taunting Jem in a sing song voice, “Jemima! Jemima!!”
Mantheana joined in the singing.
Jem scowled, “Ok, that's it little girlie.” She pulled out her sword and lunged at Mantheana, who ducked.
“Too slow, Jemima,” Mantheana taunted.
“And you say I haven't grown up?!” Jem said.
“Vell, I'm not the vun stropping over my ex, ok?” Mantheana replied.
Parasol kicked Jem in the face. “ That's my new friend, sister.”
She called out to her granddaughter, “Chinaka!!! You all right out there?”
Chinaka grinned, “Yep. I got two.”
“Nice moves there, Parasol, Chinaka,” Mantheana said, smiling.
Tash fished a vial of holy water out of Victor's pocket.
He said, “Be careful, Tash.”
Tash smiled tightly and ran back out to the fray. A Black Vein blocked Tash's way, its arms groping for a hold on her. She ducked under his hands and came up inside his reach, bare millimetres from his body. In that intimate embrace, she staked him, continuing into the room through the cloud of dust.
Tash looked around. Every single vampire was engaged with the good guys.
Parasol grabbed Mantheana’s hand and they both pinned Jem to the wall with their other hands, immobilizing her - for a minute.
“You've met this bitch before, Manthy?” Parasol asked, just before Jem kneed her in the stomach. Parasol doubled over but recovered quickly.
“I had the misfortune,” Mantheana replied, then bitch slapped Jem on Parasol’s behalf.
Jem managed to get free of the pair.
“Back off, Jemima.” Mantheana spat.
In the storeroom, Kate raised her arm towards the cabinet at her side. Slowly it shuffled across the floor then suddenly picked up speed and flew into the far wall, missing the vampire by a fraction.
The vampire sneered, “Now whose co-ordination is out?” He looked on the floor at the smashed cabinet and suddenly he spied the journal lying on the ground. With a grin he picked it up. “Thanks for making my job all that easier, Red.” The vampire sneered again with malevolent intent. Suddenly hearing the fearful scream of another of his comrades being dusted, he turned to the door. “It's been fun, Red, but I think we'll have to postpone the pleasantries ‘til later.”
Kate looked like she was going to go after the vampire but Galen held her back wrapping an arm tightly around her shoulders. “No, let… let him go” he sighed breathlessly.
Drew searched more and more frantically for Daye. Not seeing her, he poured himself a shot of scotch before passing it to Hector. “Seen Daye?” he asked, his voice full of worry.
Hector took the bottle “Sorry, no.” he looked at the bottle for a moment before taking a long drink from it. “Back to day one after two years of sobriety,” he sighed and tossed a wooden coin on the bar.
Drew grimaced, but didn’t reply. He scanned the room, his body sore and his mind terrified. Where had his girl gone? Had these monsters found her outside and done something to hurt her? His thoughts were overcome with red rage at the idea. He waded back into the fight, anger and fear driving him.
Tash whispered in Parasol's ear, “Stand back...”
Parasol moved out of the way and Tash smashed her vial of holy water against Jem's chest while she was occupied with Mantheana. Jem yelled in pain, her skin blistering under the blessed water.
The coldling looked at the chaos that Jemima had created and laughed. “Thank you, Tash,” she said.
Parasol nodded, “Yes. Thank you.”
Mantheana giggled again.
Tash grinned at Mantheana and Parasol. “No problem. Just returning a favour.” Looking at Parasol, she said, “Didn't want to see you get splashed.”
Parasol looked at Tash and nodded her head.
Suddenly a vampire came running out of the storeroom, jumping over a load of debris. He faltered for a moment, seeing none but Jem and two other of his gang standing, faced in combat.
Jem clutched her smoking chest and glared at Tash, “You bitch! You are really gonna pay!”
Jem charged towards Tash, but Mantheana stuck a leg out and tripped the vampires. As Jem fell down in a heap, Parasol straight-armed her.
Tash slammed a stake down, going for the kill, but Jem rolled out of the way, the stake entering her shoulder instead.
Jem spied the vampire running out with the journal. He waved it at his gang leader, “I got it, I got it!” he called.
“Right, everybody back!” Jem yelled. She glared at Tash, “This isn't over! Killer.”
Mantheana raised an eyebrow, “She's a killer?”
“What’s he got?” Mantheana asked at the same time as Parasol queried, “Got what?”
The three remaining vamps turned to flee at Jem’s command. Jem grabbed the vampire with the book and hustled him to the door, smoke still rising from her chest.
Tash stood dumbfounded, watching them leave. “She came here for a lousy book? I didn’t think she could read.”
"And don't come back!!" Parasol kicked the door shut.
Victor entered from the kitchen looking drenched and splotchy. “This is a bookshop,” he commented.
Bibliophile Brawl - part four
Tash looked around. The room was a mess. Victor was a mess. Galen and Kate were nowhere to be seen. Tash’s first instinct was to charge after the vampires, but then she thought, *Hmm, looks like we're in no shape for a posse. And that bitch Jem just took my stake with her...*
Parasol turned and called, “Chinaka!!”
“Here I am,” Chinaka said, emerging from behind the bar. Parasol followed Chinaka’s voice, found her and hugged her.
Kate came staggering out of the storeroom, holding on to her bloody arm. Galen helped her to walk as they joined the rest of the group in the main part of the shop. “They were looking for something,” she coughed, rubbing her sore throat.
“They got something. A book of some sort,” Parasol told her.
“Oh, that Jemima! She just doesn't know when to let go!” Mantheana muttered.
Tash nodded, “Yep, a book.” She saw the shape her friend was in, “Geez, Kate. Are you OK?”
Victor queried Kate, “What book was that? Something special?”
Kate was dazed by the barrage of questions being thrown at her. “I'm fine, I'm fine,” she muttered. “And I don’t know what book it was. It… it kind of looked like a diary or a ledger of some sort. He got away, I, I let him get away...” She looked around at the damage and destruction. “They ruined the party.”
Tash frowned at the damage done to Victor. “It's a problem when the holy water starts flying, isn't it?”
Chinaka noticed Victor’s condition.
“I need to get rubberized or something,” Victor mused.
Tash laughed softly, “Yeah, we'll buy you a wetsuit.”
Chinaka looked abashed, “I'm so sorry. I didn't know.”
Victor looked at Chinaka with red-rimmed eyes. “It looks worse than you think it is.”
Chinaka was puzzled, “You're a vampire too?”
Victor replied, “Uh... no. Demon actually.”
Henna gasped slightly from behind the bar.
Chinaka muttered, “Demon. That's just great.”
“Chinaka!!” Parasol chided.
Jess thought to herself, *Demons like a good party crash, eh?*
“Look at this! The room is practically destroyed!” Mantheana exclaimed.
Tash spoke, “The main thing is, is everyone OK? Are we all accounted for?”
Drew finally was able to jump in. He looked around, but there was still no sign of Daye. “I can't find Daye!”
“Oh God,” Mantheana cursed, “That is not good.”
Chinaka suggested, “Maybe she went to get ice.”
All in the room regard Chinaka.
Tash felt the side of her face gingerly where Jem - *heh, Jemima* - had belted her. *Hmm, I’ve had worse.*
“I'll help you try and find her, Drew,” Chinaka said. Drew nodded wearily, obviously distraught and exhausted. “This was my first paranormal battle royale,” he said to the young woman. “Do I look as bad as I feel?”
The members of the band slowly emerged from behind the dais, shocked looks on all their faces. Henna also came up wide-eyed from behind the bar. She was shaking and pale.
Mantheana laughed and put on a stern face, surveying the band, “ Hey, did any vun say to stop playing?”
“Samba would be nice,” Parasol added.
Faint noises came from the back of the room. Melissa was slowly torturing a vampire with holy water. She noticed the fighting had stopped. The cover for her activities was gone. *Damn,* she thought, and staked the hapless vampire.
Parasol said, “Seriously, it's Daye's shop. She might know what book they took.”
Chinaka nodded, “I'm gonna help Drew find her.”
Drew was waiting anxiously to begin the search. He was battered, his clothes torn and dirty, and his expression was desperate. He continued to search around the interior of the torn apart bookshop.
Parasol replied, “Don't think that's a good idea. Drew?”
Drew’s frantic voice replied, “I've looked all around the shop. She's not here. She's just not here."
Daye passes out
After Daye left Drew to seek out Chinaka for a dance, she decided to check on Josh in the kitchen. When she got there, though, there was no sign of Josh. “Funny,” Daye mused to herself, “it’s not like Josh to leave his kitchen unattended.”
Daye shrugged. She was really feeling light headed and ill. Daye made her way out the back door and into the alley behind the shop. Once outside, she caught sight of Josh and Melissa in a tight embrace against a wall outside. Daye didn’t know quite what to do. She didn’t want to embarrass them, and since she was so shocked, she decided to avoid a scene altogether. Daye quickly rounded the side of the building, coming to rest at one of the tables in front of the shop. She felt more and more dizzy, so finally, she rested her folded arms on the tabletop and rested her head on top of them, closing her eyes. In moments, she was fast asleep.
A man stepped out of the shadows, glancing furtively about. He was large and somehow familiar. As he stepped up to Daye’s unconscious form, Ryan’s face was lit by the streetlight. He seemed to be watching for Daye’s friends as well as some other threat. Ryan had seen the vampire hottie and her little friend arrive in the boat of a convertible, and decided at that moment, it would be the safest place to stash “sleeping beauty” for the time being. Careful to make as little noise as possible, Ryan picked up Daye’s sleeping body and quickly deposited her in the back of the car. It was pretty likely that someone would find her here once things died down.
Ryan stepped back from the car just as a rowdy group started up the street at the end of the block. “Good,” he muttered, “Jem’s right on time. Mother will be so pleased.”
Ryan melted back into the shadows, disappearing as the fun was about to begin.
Daye meets Sam in the dream
Daye walked in a lush, green field at twilight. A few yards ahead in an open area, a small fire blazed, drawing her on. As she approached, Daye could make out two figures seated near the fire, a man and his daughter. They were both dressed in fancy party wear, and they sat close together, huddled in conversation. When Daye drew close enough to make out their features in the near dark both looked up, the girl smiling, but the man looking both surprised and a bit perturbed at her intrusion.
The man was sort of cute, with brown hair and blue eyes. He was tall and broad, his face somehow trustworthy. Daye felt a sudden urge to hug him or pet him like a puppy. He was dressed in a very nice suit, with the strangest tie. The tie had brightly colored balloons and dolphins swimming through grass on it. Daye shrugged and smiled tentatively at the man. "Hello," she said, "is this where I'm supposed to be?"
Sam didn’t appreciate the interruption. Who was this woman with her red hair? Did she actually think she could horn in on his time with Mother? They had work to do. Serious work. Sam opened his mouth to speak with her, but shook his head and redirected his attention to Mariah. A grain of hurt pierced his eyes. “Mother,” he said. “Is she?”
Mariah smiled reassuringly at Sam. She then turned that bright smile on Daye. "Amanda, you've come," she rose to take the woman's hand and guide her to sit beside Sam. Mariah stood back and stared for a moment at the pretty picture they made. "Look at you," she said, coming forward and lightly cupping first Sam's face with one hand and then Daye's with the other. "My beautiful children. This is perfect, just perfect."
Daye sat and watched the child, feeling confused, but happy at the same time. She know this girl, felt comforted by her, but deep within, a sense of unease stirred in her. "Why must I be here now?" Daye asked.
A flash of something like anger rose in Mariah's eyes, but her smile remained serene. "To meet your brother, of course," Mariah replied. "You should know one another, become friends. Together you shall bring about a new world, my darlings."
This woman was his sister? Didn’t feel like a sister. She glowed with elegance, though, which made Sam give her a closer look, her soft features putting him at ease. She seemed at home in this setting. The shadowy grass under her feet, and the fire whipping in her eyes. He took her hand and squeezed softly. But her hands, underneath tender flesh, were strong. Sam let go, feeling slightly undone.
“I’m Sam,” he said. “Are you a believer too?” She’d better be, or Sam wasn’t going to let her anywhere near Mother. Perhaps she was just another wannabe. And that he could not allow. Mother had suffered too much of the laziness of nonbelievers.
Daye looked unsettled by Sam's question. She struggled to understand. *Believer?* she thought. *Believer in what?* Daye turned her attention back on Mariah. "Is that why I'm here?" she asked. "Will you help me... teach me? I feel so strange."
Mariah knelt in front of Daye and took both of her hands in her own. They formed a small circle, just the two of them, leaving Sam alone and feeling bereft. As Mariah stared into Daye's eyes without speaking, she began to speak softly. A few feet away a tall figure stood in the shadows. He focused intently on the pair. "Amanda," Mariah crooned, "you have come to the Brotherhood. Be honored, Daughter, for you are the first, the only Sister to ever be called. You shall be a part of the greatest rebirth in history. Brother Sam shall come to you, and you shall know one another. Your body shall provide the vessel, and The Mother shall be reborn. After the rebirth, all pain, all loss, all sadness will be at an end. Do you understand, my child? Do you believe?"
Daye felt muddled, lulled by the cool breeze, the warm fire, the peaceful darkness. She heard Mariah's words in the voice of her own mother. She felt another near, a beloved, urging her to capitulate, to believe. Daye swayed slightly on her knees, feeling suddenly weak. She closed her eyes to her surroundings and focused on centering herself. Mariah's words had died and only the night sounds were left. Daye could hear Sam breathing slowly, rhythmically beside her. She could feel his warmth as strongly as the fires. She was connected to the cool calm of Mariah through their linked hands. Daye could hear a voice, one she knew, speaking on the wind, coaxing her response. "I...I...I don't know," Daye wailed, pulling away from Mariah and dropping her head to her now empty hands. She began to weep softly.
Mariah turned her gaze on Sam, her eyes full of disappointment. "She's not ready to believe yet, my Sam," Mariah shook her head sadly. "The pull of the world weighs heavily upon our Amanda. She needs more time. Shall we have patience, my darling?"
Sam’s trepidation went up with the crackling of the fire. His heart went out to this person Amanda, his sister, his sister. He’d felt just like she was feeling not long ago - scared, confused - and the sudden identification gave him a new sense of authority. But he would not be like other people. He would not condescend. He should guide her.
“Yes, Mother. She can do it, I can feel it. Once she knows how… how wonderful you will be be… the warmth of your love inside her, she’ll come around. She has the strength.
“I think she’s perfect. May I go to her in the waking world? I think if someone is there - in the physical world, I mean - someone to help her understand that you are more than just a wonderful dream… I think it will help her. I didn’t have that kind of support.”
Sam pulled Amanda into his arms and rocked her with the same tenderness that he’d learned from Tash. “Sh-shh-shhh. Don’t cry. We’re your family.”
Amanda leaned into this stranger's strength. She felt close to him, bonded in some way she didn't understand. This was all so confusing. Being rocked gently in Sam's arms, Daye thought she suddenly heard a feral growl from nearby. Opening her eyes, Daye saw Mariah turn her gaze on the nearby darkness. She was glaring into the shadows. "They are innocent!" Mariah hissed. The growling ceased immediately. Amanda felt her tears subside. She pulled back from Sam and looked into his eyes, finding only love and understanding. "Thank you," she said softly.
Mariah turned back to her children, silently cursing Ryan and his mad jealousy. If the bastard wasn't careful, he could ruin everything with his greedy hunger for this woman. Mariah smiled softly once again at Sam and Amanda. "Yes," she said, "you should know one another in the waking world. You will be Amanda's strenghth, as you have been mine, Sam. She will need you. Soon, she will embark on her most difficult journey. You shall protect and guide her as I have done for you. This is my wish, my son."
A righteous thrill - electric - took the hairs on Sam’s neck. Mother Mariah had that effect when she called him son. In order for this to work, Amanda had to submit. Not to him, not to Mariah, but to her own needs, and Sam suspected those needs were hidden deep down under a fray of fears and excuses. She had to recognize them before she could let them go. He nudged her playfully with his knee.
“Okay, Amanda?” he said. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. But I think you and I get to know each other. Please say that’s okay.” He waited patiently for her to notice his most unassuming smile.
Daye felt better and better when she focused on Sam. He really was the brother she had never known. How could she refuse anything to such a sweet smile? "Yes, okay, Sam," she was smiling now too. "I..."
Daye thought she heard someone calling her name. She glanced around quickly. Where had that sound come from?
Mariah looked startled as well. "Damn, they've found you," she muttered. "I'll arrange something for you, Sam," Mariah said louder. "Amanda has to go now. Say goodbye to your sister, love."
“Not good-bye,” he replied. “Good night and see you soon.” He pulled her head into his chest, a warm hug farewell. But she felt spongy in his arms, spongier still when he tightened his grip. She was beginning to wake, and it saddened him.
Daye felt herself disconnecting. She was of two completely separate minds about it. Daye was mostly saddened to be leaving behind this peace, these people, especially Sam. But within her, deep within, a part of Daye felt relieved to have escaped something, something she hadn't even been aware of. Daye closed her eyes, and she was gone.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Drew’s frantic voice sounded through Bibliophile, “I've looked all around the shop. She's not here. She's just not here."
Kate coughed again weakly, “Well she definitely isn’t in the storeroom!” she said, gesturing to the room she had just left.
Victor peeled off his soaking shirt and jacket revealing angry blisters on his arms and red spots on his neck and face. He gently wrapped his arms with his shirt.
Tash spoke quietly, to nobody in particular, “Shit. We have to find her.”
Mantheana nodded, “Yeys. I couldn't see her throughout the entire fight.”
“Okay,” Parasol said, “Drew, calm down. Listen to me. We'll find her. I'm sure she's nearby.”
Drew nodded grimly. He wanted to tear the place apart. He was no kind of empath, but he felt something was very wrong. If Daye could help it, she would never leave her friends to fight off a gang of vampires alone. Something happened to her, he just knew it.
Tash thought out loud, “I didn't see her go... but then I was kind of busy. We all were. But I'm going to check inside first before assuming the worst.” She picked her way through broken furniture, smashed crockery and other rubble to the back of the shop, passing Melissa who was sitting next to a pile of dust, looking shellshocked.
Tash cast out her senses, searching for the feeling that was Daye. However, the pain and heightened excitement levels in the room drowned out any 'normal' signals, so Tash started searching manually.
Mantheana looked around and listened acutely.
Victor sat at the bar, where Hector offered him a drink. Victor refused but turned to Hector. “You stayed pretty calm during all of that. Military?”
Hector nodded, “Navy SEAL during the Gulf War.”
Victor gingerly pulled out his wallet while grimacing at the pain in his hands. He tossed it on the bar. He said, “You are our permanent bartender for all of our social events. Grab a $20 from there and put it in your jar.”
Galen looked through his jacket for cigarettes. Eventually he found the crushed remains of a pack, no longer in any condition for use. He asked Kate, “ One small favour, please.... a couple of aspirin?”
Hector had the bottle of Tylenol out before Kate asked for it.
“Thanks,” she smiled. She handed Galen the aspirin, looking at him with concern.
Galen took some of the Tylenol offered by Kate, but didn’t bother with a drink, instead just swallowing them dry.
“Are you sure you're going to be okay?” Kate asked.
From outside the front of the shop, Chinaka’s voice floated, “Found her!!”
Mantheana looked up, “Vhere?”
Parasol ran outside, mad that Chinaka got away from her.
Chinaka replied, “Here in the back seat of Parasol's whale.” She was standing by the door of the car, pointing. "I found her, Drew."
Drew ran out the door as fast as he could. He was completely frantic at this point. Why would Daye be in the back of Parasol’s car? Had the vamps hurt her and dumped her there? What was going on?
Mantheana walked outside to view the finding of Daye.
Chinaka shook her head, “She slept through all that? Drew could have been hurt and she'd never know."
“Shut up, Chinaka.” Parasol chided. She grabbed her granddaughter’s arm. “Time for us to go, Chinaka.”
Drew heard Chinaka’s statement, but chose to ignore it. This was no normal sleep. He was sure of that. This last week, she’d been acting so strangely. He had known he should try to talk to her about it, but he hadn’t wanted to upset her. Maybe this was a lingering effect from what had happened in Ireland. Drew frowned, “She may have been having visions again. Let’s get her inside.”
Tash looked puzzled, “I thought Kate helped her with those weird dreams?”
*So did I,* Drew thought. He shrugged, “We didn't know if they'd come back.”
Mantheana queried, “Vhat is vrong vith her?”
“Hmm,” Tash mused, “From what Kate told me about it, it was pretty dangerous.”
Kate looked up worriedly as Daye was brought back into the shop. Galen said, “Yes, I'll be fine. Just go, help Daye.”
Drew held her cradled in his lap. He gazed mournfully at her friends. “Someone, please, do something,” his words were despairing. *This cannot be happening again,* he thought. *We barely got her back the last time.*
Mantheana laid her hand on Daye’s forehead, and drew back quickly as though burnt. “ She's burning up.”
Victor said, ‘She's trapped in a dream world somehow. Her dreams have... kidnapped her.”
Tash looked at Kate. “Is it the same as before, Kate?”
“It couldn't be,” Kate replied. “The dreams were controlled by the restless spirits back in Ireland.”
“A spell, then?” Tash suggested.
“Maybe, yes, a spell,” muttered Kate as she rose to her feet and kneeled at Daye's side. She held Daye’s hands; they were cold. “Daye? Daye, can you hear me?”
Victor moved closer; her lips were moving but there was no sound. He moved very close and listened intently. He repeated the words faithfully, “Abelyeh oggotha jerudeckka lem. Herntoba kalluna murrtovok bethu. Nebbrek jeguntha hoow chrop.”
Victor shook his head, “I can't hear any more… she’s gone deeper. I don't recognise that language at all.” He rose and stood next to Tash.
Tash looked on helplessly. Her sense of Daye's presence was very faint, despite the fact that the woman was lying right in front of her.
Chinaka resisted Parasol, “No. We have to see if Daye's okay.”
“Leaving, Parasol?” Mantheana asked.
“This is for friends,” Parasol responded.
Victor turned to Chinaka, “There's not much you can do for her. I don't have to tell you that none of this - none of this - gets repeated. Your life would be worthless if our enemies were to go after you.”
Chinaka spoke meekly, “'Kay.”
Tash looked up at Parasol and Chinaka, her expression unreadable. Parasol was still an evil vampire, but... she had fought with them. Hell, she'd probably helped save Tash from serious injury or death at the hands of that vamp with the chokehold.
Kate frowned at Victor, still holding on to Daye. “This can't be happening again. It just doesn't make sense,” she said.
Galen overheard Kate’s despairing words and got the strength to move over to Kate and Daye.
Suddenly Daye awoke. She gasped for air as though she had been holding her breath. She looked around to see everyone staring at her.
Daye looked around, “What's going on?” Daye had no memory of what had happened. She had been going out for some air and suddenly she was laying in the remains of the shop, where some sort of battle had just taken place. Drew cradled her.
“Amanda!” Mantheana exclaimed, “How do you feel?”
Kate breathed a sigh of relief. *Thank the Gods,* she thought to herself.
Parasol tugged at Chinaka’s arm, “Come on, Chinaka!!”
Victor watched Chinaka and Parasol leave before turning back to Daye.
Tash almost leapt backwards at the shock. She'd been concentrating on Daye so hard that the return of her presence was almost a physical blow. She muttered, "But she was barely here. I could feel it. She wasn't really here..."
“Daye?” Kate asked, “Don't you remember what just happened? The Black Veins - they were here. They took some kind of book. Don't you remember any of this? You've been asleep… or something?”
Daye frowned, “I don't know. I think, maybe. Yes I think I was.” She had been asleep. She was so tired, still she was so tired. She had dozed off, it seemed. But she was all right. Everyone had been worried, but she had no explanation other than she was tired.
Kate frowned and glanced worriedly over at Tash - she had sensed her presence leave. *To where? What just happened?*
Mantheana's eyes flicked over to the cracked clock inside. She gasped at the time. “Listen, I have to go. My daughter is at home, and I'm going to owe the babysitter a fortune. You vill call me about how she is doing?”
Victor replied, “I understand. Thank you. And we will.”
Amanda has my number,” Mantheana smiled. “Amanda, thank you for inviting me to your party. Good night every vun.” She waved and started on the walk home.
Kate sighed, “I think home would be the best thing for everyone right now.”
Victor looked at Tash and grinned suggestively, “ Maybe you are right.”
Tash nodded, all business, ” There's nothing much we can do here. I could go home and get some gear...”
Tash paused at the look on Victor's face. “Not tonight, okay?” he remonstrated.
“...Or maybe not...” she finished, abashed.
“No, Tash,” Kate said. “Leave it. Jem and her cronies will still be waiting tomorrow.”
"Well, I think I have better things to do tonight, anyway," Tash grinned.
Kate said, “We can figure out what to do about,” she glanced around the shop, “this tomorrow, too.”
Victor turned to Drew, “Call me first thing tomorrow morning and I will want to talk to you and Daye.”
Daye nodded, still quite confused. The shop was a disaster. She would be here half the night, cleaning up. And they had said something had been taken by that vampire and her cronies. She would have to find out what. Slowly, Daye started to rise, brushing off Drew’s concerned words. “I need to clean this place up,” she said.
Josh had been standing to the side, watching with worried eyes. “No, no, Miss Blaise,” he cut in at Daye’s words. “You don’ worry none about this ‘ere place. I take care of it. It’ll be good as new. Don’ you worry.”
Daye smiled gratefully at Josh and then turned to the others. “Perhaps I should just get home,” she said. “I’ll just check the back room, okay?”
They readily agreed, and she came back in a few minutes, looking grim and confused. “They took a journal,” she said. “One that was an ancestor of mine’s. I don’t know what they could possibly want with that. Maybe they made a mistake.”
Daye sat down on one of the stools and considered it. Soon, her friends were ready to go.
Tash and Victor bid farewell to everyone and slipped out the door, after promising to check on Daye in the morning.
Kate turned back to Daye, “Daye, I'd feel a whole lot better if you'd come stay at my place so I could keep a watch on you.”
Daye relented eventually and together Galen and Drew helped carry Daye into the car before all four of them drove back to Kate's home on Birch Street.
Before The Party
Earlier that Saturday, 20 August 2005 - 4pm
"What's this?"
Jade looked up at Sorrow's question and frowned at the card he held up. "Oh... I got that earlier in the week... Daye's having some party at Biblophile, she asked if we'd like to go. I've been so busy with XY, I'd forgotten all about it."
"It's for tonight." Sorrow threw down the sheaf of mail he'd been going through. "I take it we're turning up?"
"What? Tonight? Damn... Yes, I thought we should go... It'd be nice to meet up with the gang. We haven't seen anyone much. Except for Tash..." Jade grimaced inwardly as she recalled the rather awkward circumstances of the last meeting with her friend. *Got to learn not to push too much the next time I talk to her.* Pushing that scenario out of her mind, Jade gathered up her keys and bag, grinned at Sorrow and said, "Come on! We've got to go!"
"Hey! What's the rush? Where are we going?"
"Shopping! I've got absolutely nothing to wear for the party!" Ignoring the pained look on Sorrow's face, Jade half-dragged him out XY's front door.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Saturday, 20th August 2005 - 8:30pm
Sorrow wiped steam from the mirror and smiled at his reflection. Shopping with Jade wasn't a trial, in fact the afternoon had been quite enjoyable even if they had gone in far too many shops and Jade had finally picked a dress that they'd seen half way through the day. Sorrow stepped into the shower and let the scalding water stream over him. He spent 15 minutes luxuriating in hot water and soap then with a sigh finally left the shower. He wrapped a towel round himself and headed back into the bedroom.
Jade was seated at her dressing table, brushing on some bronze shimmer to her bare shoulders. Casting a critical eye at herself in the mirror, she crossed her fingers and hoped that the very fragile looking lingerie she had on would last the night. The sales assistant had been insistent that the thin material of the outfit she'd bought required it... *What is it that makes me such a sucker for clothes that are totally impractical?* Rolling her eyes, Jade shook her head, sending the cascade of curls tumbling down her back.
As Sorrow entered the room, she saw his eyebrows go up and his mouth quirk in a small smile. "Stop that... This isn't all I'm wearing to the party. And I hope you're planning to wear more than the towel, unless you're planning on giving another show like the one you did for Auntie Pao from the Chinese delivery diner?" Jade giggled.
"Well I'm sure I can find something, probably dark coloured..." Sorrow finished drying himself off and walked up behind Jade. He gently nibbled Jade's ear. "Maybe a suit..." Sorrow trailed his fingers down Jade's back then with a laugh crossed the room and got dressed.
Jade shivered slightly as she unwrapped the dress from its tissue paper and slipped it on. She sighed, luxuriating in the feel of the teal-coloured silk as it slithered down to mid-thigh. The neckline scooped demurely to just beneath the collar bone whereas the back... *Well, there basically isn't any back...* Smiling to herself as a familiar tune came over the radio, Jade hummed softly as she swayed towards Sorrow, her body moving provocatively to the song's smooth rhythm...
I drank your wine... Let you taste mine... I kissed your lips...
"Dance with me?" Jade brushed her lips against Sorrow's ear as she whispered the invitation. "Our own private little party before we join the crowd..."You felt my body slip... Into your soul...
I almost cried cause it was so beautiful...
Last night... I was inside of you...
Last night... While making love to you...
I saw the sun... the moon... the mountains and the rivers...
I saw heaven when I made sweet love to you...
Sorrow slipped his arms around her, resting just the tips of his fingers in the small of her back. Keeping just far enough away so that his shirt brushed against Jade he swayed to the music and smiled. As the music suffused the room, Sorrow kissed Jade softly. Then, breaking contact he moved back a little.
Jade's eyes gleamed; the game was one they'd played before. Knowing the rules, she followed him, tilting her head back so that their bodies and lips were a hair's breadth apart. As the smooth, honeyed words of the song continued she continued to sway, her hips moving enticingly against his... As Sorrow's tanned arm came around her waist, Jade turned so that her back was pressed against the hard length of his body. Still dancing, her arms reached back to wind themselves around his neck and she moaned softly as he bit gently down on her shoulder. "Tris..."
As Sorrow's teeth gently teased her flesh, Sorrow's hand moved down her side, over the swell of her breast till it rested momentarily at her hip. Sorrow drew his mouth away from her, his hand descended down her thigh and gathered up the cloth to caress Jade's skin.
"We can be late..." he whispered into her ear, then moved to the other side of her neck. He kissed and suckled the pale column, occasionally grazing the skin with his teeth.
*********************
"Well... You really made good on that. We're reaaaaally late. Still..." Jade allowed herself to snuggle against Sorrow's shoulder a little longer, sighing contentedly. "I can't think of another way I'd rather have spent a couple of hours..." Then, rather wistfully, she pushed herself up and said, "But we should get going..."
Even as Sorrow's hands reached for her again to pull her back, Jade was slipping out of bed, chuckling as she shook out the discarded pile of teal silk. "And you may have the honour of thinking up an excuse and presenting it to our host later when we show up at the party." Having had the last word, Jade disappeared into the bathroom.
"We'll see about that." Sorrow waited a few seconds until he heard the shower run then walked stealthily into the bathroom. He rested his hand on the hot water tap and smiled. With a twist Sorrow let the hot water run and smiled further at Jade's yelp. Closing off the tap, "Really I think you should explain to our host." Sorrow opened the tap a little again.
Eyes narrowed, Jade muttered darkly as she got out of the shower and stalked back to the room to change. She heard Sorrow get into the shower and the sound of water running, but figured that it'd be small-minded of her to do the exact same thing to him. Anyway, he'd be expecting it so it wouldn't be half as much fun. Plus, any scuffle would risk her getting her hair wet and she didn't have the time to style it again. *I'll just tell Daye that we were delayed at XY and got home late... So by the time we'd changed and made our way down... Ah hell... That's not going to fool anybody but it'll have to do.*
Jade was just putting the finishing touches on her makeup when Sorrow came out of the bathroom. He dressed quickly then looked over at Jade. "So got your story straight?" He offered Jade his arm, "I'm sure we won't be the only ones."
They headed downstairs. "I called a cab after torturing you, it should be here any minute."
[/]The Party's Over
******Saturday 20th August, 2005 – 11:50pm******
Kate lay completely still in Galen’s arms. Daye and Drew were staying in the guestroom at the far end of the corridor and had long since gone to bed. Daye had been totally exhausted when Drew had carried her in. Even though Kate had really wanted to talk to her about what had happened and about the book that Jem’s gang had stolen, she agreed Daye needed sleep more than anything else right now.
However much Kate tried she just couldn’t rest. The events of the night had left her feeling completely unsettled. All she could do was think about what had happened in Ireland all those months ago and just hope the same thing wasn’t being repeated here in Los Angeles. *But how could it?* she wondered idly.
Galen could almost feel the concern emanating from Kate as he held her close. He gently brushed her hair aside and gave her a light kiss on the forehead. Truth be told, his head was still throbbing from the good bashing it had received from the vampires, though he would not admit that to her. Fortunately, someone else would have the dubious honour of making sure that the events of the evening did not show up in the papers, with all of the dusty details. *I wonder what gang we'll blame for the attack.*
"Is something bothering you, honey?" he asked quietly, sure that the answer would be yes.
“Umm… nnn…hmmm… hmm,” Kate mumbled restlessly as she tried to get comfortable. Finally she sighed exasperatedly and sat up. “I just can’t stop thinking about what happened to Daye. That was weird. It... it was weird right? I mean after everything that happened in Ireland… what if it’s happening again?” Kate sighed again as Galen sat up too, wrapping his arms around her.
"I have faith in you, Kate," Galen said. He remembered the story of what happened in Ireland well, knowing that there wasn't much he could do. It was a depressing feeling. "If it's happening again, you'll be able to help her. I might not be able to do much, but I can at least help with research and supplies." What was it again? Something to do with a dream world? It would be worth a good records search on Monday. Kate shifted position as he continued to hold her close, trying to comfort her as best he could.
Kate looked into Galen’s eyes and smiled, albeit rather weakly. “You’re right, whatever is going on we’ll face it, together.” Kate looked away for a moment, her expression growing slightly saddened. “It’s just that Daye’s been acting strange lately and then there’s Ryan. I really don’t trust him. Daye seems to think he’s just being thoughtful - looking out for her… but I know he’s lying to her. You saw the way he acted at the dinner party right? It’s not just me being paranoid is it?”
Galen racked his brain to remember the results of the background check he'd had run on Ryan before being arrested. The results had been completely useless: nothing. He knew little more than the date Ryan entered the country. No outstanding warrants, no priors, hell, no parking tickets. Still, there was something odd about him. "You let me be paranoid for the both of us. But you're right, there is something odd about him. Apart from being a demon, that is."
“When you grow up with demons and ghosts and other various spooks they tend to stop looking so odd.” Kate sighed again feeling mentally if not physically drained. She wanted to help Daye but until she knew what the problem was she didn’t have a clue as to what she could do.
“Hey,” said Galen softly, regaining Kate’s attention. “Try not to worry, it’ll work itself out in the end.” Galen began rubbing her bare shoulders gently and after a while he felt Kate relax a little. “There, that’s better isn’t it?” Kate hummed slightly in agreement. “And whatever is going on with Daye and Ryan we’ll figure it out, and put it right, okay?” Kate murmured again. “So there’s no need to worry, because I’m here.”
Kate opened her eyes and smiled softly, finally she nodded in agreement. Kate continued to enjoy the feel of Galen massaging her shoulders, leaning back as she continued to relax. Before Galen could say anything else, she continued, "It's just, how am I supposed to help her? What if I was wrong about what went on before, and made it worse?"
"You did the best you could," Galen assured her. "Suppose you were wrong. We'll just make sure we do it right this time." Even though he knew he had to sound like an optimist, he had every confidence that what he said was true. All they needed to do was find out what was going on. An idea occurred to him. "Do you think Drew might have a better idea what's going on? Or at the very least, that he could help us?"
Kate lay down in the bed, her cheek pressed against Galen’s shoulder, which she kissed softly as she ran her hands slowly across his body. “Hmm, perhaps, it might be a good idea to talk to him, see if he knows anything.”
Galen let out a small groan while his hands began to explore Kate's body as well. Rational thought was slowly beginning to become problematic. "I can try talking to him tomorrow if the chance comes up." He grinned slightly, drawing Kate fully into his arms.
Kate trailed soft kisses across Galen’s upper torso eliciting another quiet moan from his lips. “That would be… really useful… thank you…” said Kate between kisses. “And I’ll try and talk to Daye tomorrow.” Kate halted her careful attendance, “how’s that headache of yours?”
Galen shook his head slowly, wishing that Kate had not asked that question. "It's, erm, better than before," he said truthfully. Kate gave him that look which said that she knew he was holding out. "Well, it's still there. I already took something for it, which should hopefully be kicking in shortly."
“Well, I could do that thing you like… would that make you feel any better?”
Galen grinned in delight, “Yes, yes it would. That ‘thing’ that’ll make me feel loads better…”
Kate glanced away in an attempt to look demure, before sliding her hands down below the sheets, her naked body writhing against Galen's. He moaned loudly in satisfaction and then bit his lip remembering that they had guests. Kate smiled as she resumed her task, administering gentle care and soothing sensations of lips, tongue and teeth across Galen’s body. Kate heard the familiar sighs of her lover and felt a deep contentment burn through her body. At least for one brief, all too fleeting moment, all her worries, misgivings and doubts could be forgotten.
Tomorrow she would confront Daye for a second time.
After the Party...
Saturday, 20th August 2005 – 11pm
Victor lagged behind Tash again as they strolled down the street. Tash was bristling with energy and Victor smiled, watching her practically run towards the building at Poplar. But Victor was in a lot of pain from the holy water. It had blistered his face as well as his arms and it had dampened his mood.
Tash's stride slowed as she realised Victor's hand had slipped from hers yet again. The brawl with Jem's vampires had been almost as effective as her normal hunting for raising her excitement levels, and she was keen to celebrate Victor's proposal. She looked over her shoulder to encourage him to keep up, and faltered to a complete standstill, a frown marring her features.
Victor caught up with her and she carefully lifted his hand to her lips. Kissing the back of his hand lightly, she whispered, "You were putting on a brave face back there, weren't you? You said it wasn't as bad as it looked. But you're really feeling this, I can see."
"I didn't want to upset the others at the party. I wasn't prepared for this." Victor looked into her eyes, "This wasn't how I expected tonight to go like at all."
He took a deep breath and picked up his pace again to keep up with her. "Let’s get home first. I can rest once we get there," he said.
Tash trapped her lower lip between her teeth and matched Victor's pace. "Maybe some of that balm you had might help. You know, the one in your case. That could soothe the burns. And," she looked down at her feet and sighed in resignation, "we can always celebrate later."
Victor sighed, "All of my things were stolen by Xavier. I don't know where he took them. So that isn't really an option any more."
Victor was quiet for a while, "I feel as if this sort of thing is going to be what our lives are always going to be like. We will have to grab what moments of joy we can between disasters."
Tash squeezed his hand tenderly. "Well, we always knew that. We aren't exactly a normal couple. But," she slowed to a stop just as they reached the foot of the steps to Poplar's front door, "I love you more than any words can say. We'll manage somehow." She tilted her face up and met Victor's mouth in a long, slow kiss, passionate and tender at the same time.
Victor returned the kiss, the pain nearly forgotten. *Pain is real. This 'love' thing is the illusion. You have been hurt more often since you met her. She is dangerous.* To Victor this was an impotent argument. The whine of a sore loser.
"Let’s get back to the apartment. I want to get these clothes off." Tash's giggle at that thought made Victor smile.
Sorrow stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He heard Victor’s voice and Tash's answering giggle through the front door. "Sounds like somebody decided to leave early," Sorrow smiled at Jade.
He reached for the door and was greeted by the sight of Tash being kissed by someone who was definitely not Victor…
Jade stopped short as she blinked at the sight of the couple locked in a passionate embrace. She recognised Tash easily enough but the dark-skinned man on the receiving end of the lip lock definitely wasn't whom Tash should have been kissing.
As the couple broke apart Jade swallowed a gasp of horror at the state of the man's face. Huge blisters marred half his face and more littered the length of his arms. Jade looked at Sorrow, saw her confusion and uncertainty mirrored on his face and smiled tentatively. "Errr... Well... Hi Tash..."
Tash smiled broadly and innocently. "Hi, Jade." She nodded, "Sorrow. I'm afraid you missed all the fun." She looked over her shoulder as a taxi pulled up outside the house. "Uh, we had gatecrashers. Jem turned up with some friends. Victor got a bit hurt..." Tash's voice trailed off at the shocked looks on her friends' faces. "What?"
Victor leaned over to Tash's ear, "I thought you told them about the new face."
Tash's hand flew to her mouth, "Oh!" she exclaimed, looking abashed. "Uh, no... No I didn't. Haven't really seen either of them since Wednesday and," she gestured vaguely towards Sorrow, "you know. I couldn't really let Sorrow know in case Xavier saw him."
She started up the steps, "Maybe we shouldn't talk out on the street here. And unless you have anywhere else to go, you might want to cancel that cab." She reached Jade and Sorrow at the top of the steps. "Yes, it really is Victor."
*Well the voice matched...* Sorrow shrugged; it made sense for Victor to change his look, especially with Xavier hunting him. And Tash hadn't been wrong to conceal it from him either.
"So, I'll just…" Sorrow slipped out the front door and spoke to the cab driver.
Victor waited for Sorrow to return before telling them, "I can tell you are planning to go to Daye's party. There isn't much left there. We were crashed by Black Jem and friends." He tried to lighten the mood, "But you two look nice."
"Thanks." Jade smiled at Victor, grateful for his easy tone. She placed a hand on Sorrow's arm and gave it a light squeeze. The past few days had given them plenty of time to talk, since he was helping her out in XY. She therefore knew that the situation with Xavier made things rather awkward for all those involved.
"Why don't we head back upstairs and you two can fill us in on what happened back at Biblophile? That is, if you don't mind postponing whatever you had in mind?" Jade winked at Tash. The glow on her friend's face made it evident that she and Victor had some post-party partying planned.
Tash tried to control the tingle in her belly. She sighed. *Damn, I wish I could feel normal after dusting vampires these days.* She cast a smouldering look up at Victor. *How can I wait? The walk home was bad enough. But he's hurt, too. Needs to be fixed...*
She sighed and spoke aloud, "Yeah, that'd be good. Maybe you have something for Victor's burns?" Tash smiled at Victor, trying to quell both her passion and her disappointment.
Sorrow led the way upstairs. "I'll see what we've got that may help." He left the door to Jade's apartment ajar then rifled through his various magical supplies before looking over Jade's samples for XY.
Victor followed Sorrow, pointing to the various herbs he knew could help. While they were looking Victor took the opportunity to update Sorrow on Xavier, "I didn't kill him. Xavier. He got away. He was pretty badly burned when I last saw him."
"Burned? What happened?" Sorrow gathered up the materials. "Here or Tash's?"
"Lets do it here, I can fill you in." Victor stripped off his shirt, and while the marks were there from the holy water they looked fake and weren't oozing like real burns would have. “He attacked me in a mall. I got lucky; someone helped me out. All of his helpers were wiped out. But he...he was using a flamethrower, and he got burned."
Hearing once more about the flamethrower made Tash's stomach clench, and she gave Jade a weak smile in response to the woman's worried glance Tash's way. Though she hated to have anyone else tend her lover, these were Sorrow's supplies and he'd know best what to do with them. She walked with Jade to her couch and sat, keeping an eye on the two men.
"A flamethrower?" Sorrow's voice was deathly quiet, “A… flamethrower. Were there others around? I can act if he put others at risk and a fucking flamethrower is putting others at risk." Sorrow's voice got louder as he spoke.
He set a trio of crystals around a pack of herbs and sang a soft note. As the stones glowed in response he looked Victor in the eye. "Tell me everything."
The fury on Sorrow's face had Jade looking up from her conversation with Tash. She'd seldom seen her lover so worked up and what Xavier had done had definitely pissed him off in a big way. His eyes flashed emerald fire, yet his hands were steady and controlled as he went about healing Victor. Jade had a feeling that the flamethrower incident had just tipped the scales and that Sorrow now had a justifiable reason to rid them of the threat Xavier posed.
Although she hadn't said anything to Sorrow about it, the fact that a member from the Society of Ulle was hunting someone she considered a friend troubled Jade a great deal. She had no doubts about where his priorities lay, knowing that Tris would not stand to see any of them hurt if he could help it. However, Xavier's presence had caused her to lose sleep. She especially dreaded what kind of consequences they would face if the Society found out that Tris was involved with her.
Turning her attention back to Tash, she said, "Sorry... I didn't catch that last bit. What was it you were saying?"
Tash caught Sorrow's angry tone as well, and smiled to herself. *Good, maybe he'll be able to run Xavier out of town.* She smiled at Jade's distraction.
"Oh, nothing much. Just about a vampire called Parasol who'd been invited to the party, and Jem crashing it with a bunch of her gang to steal a book. And Daye having some weird passing out episode. Oh, yeah, and Victor proposed to me..." Tash finished with a cheeky grin.
Victor was relaying the events of the mall to Sorrow when he heard Tash break the news to Jade about their engagement. Victor stopped for a moment and looked at Sorrow. "It seemed to be the right thing to do," he offered by way of explanation.
"What!" Jade squealed excitedly, grabbing Tash's gloved hands. "Did he give you a ring? Where is it?!?!" Without waiting for an answer, Jade threw her arms around Tash's neck. "Ohhh, I'm so happy for you guys!" She turned and beamed at Victor.
Blushing, Tash drew out the ring from her pocket. She'd barely had time to secure it there when the Black Veins had burst through the door at Bibliophile. She held the glittering diamond up for Jade to admire, smiling shyly. Tash still wasn't used to this feeling she was having. It was both frightening and wonderful.
”Took me by surprise, I must say," Tash said to Jade while looking over at Victor, a mischievous gleam in her eye.
Victor finished his tale about Xavier. His mention of 'the old friend' who had helped him made Tash look at him strangely. Throughout the tale Sorrow's actions became more deliberate and controlled. Victor could see the tension in his face and the anger in his eyes. He finished his ministrations and Victor inspected the burns - they were caked over as if they had been healing for days.
"Thanks. I owe you many times over."
"Happy to help. Excuse me a moment." Sorrow pulled out his mobile and headed into the bedroom.
Tash held out a hand for Victor and entwined her fingers into his as he settled next to her on the couch. "It's looking much better," she commented. "Sorrow did a good job." She gazed at the doorway through which Sorrow had disappeared. "About Xavier, I presume?"
"Probably. Sorrow is going to have to take action on this. Hunting in public... especially as public as he was, is not a good idea."
Victor kissed Tash and hugged her close, "Thank you for being understanding about all of this too. You have been strong even though there have been a lot of events out of your control."
Tash grimaced, "It hasn't been easy, I'll grant you that." She thought about all the turmoil she'd been through over the past week. "No, not easy at all," she murmured.
Jade cast a worried glance towards the bedroom. As much as she wanted Xavier out of the way, the thought of Sorrow hunting him down had fear bubbling in her stomach. The Society wouldn't just stand back and let one of its huntmasters eliminate a member without looking deeper into the whole situation.
There was every possibility that details on both Sorrow’s and Xavier's goings-on in L.A. would come to light. *What if they find out what I am? What's going to happen to us then?*
Refocusing on the couple before her, Jade smiled to hide her anxiety. She didn't want to put a pall on Tash's and Victor's apparent happiness. "So," she chimed brightly, "Have you guys set a date?"
The worry Tash was feeling from Jade was understandable. Xavier sounded like a tough nut to crack, and Sorrow may well be the one to deal with him. She could only hope that Xavier adhered to the Society's protocols as much as Sorrow did. Though, flamethrowers in a shopping mall didn't seem to come under Society guidelines.
Tash sighed, then started at Jade's question. Date? Oh, God...
"Uh," Tash's fingers tightened around Victor's. "No, we haven't got that far yet. He only proposed a couple of hours ago, and most of that time we were fighting for our lives."
Jade bit back a grin at the panic that crossed Tash's and Victor's faces. Deciding to let them off the hook, she changed the topic. "Please tell me you kicked Jem's butt all the way to China and back? I never did get round to doing that after she trashed XY..."
Tash grunted. "Hnng. No. She got away. With some book. I wanted to go after her right away but was... dissuaded."
Tash cast a sidelong glance at Victor. The tingling in her belly hadn't gone away and she remembered that she hadn't found it that hard to be talked out of chasing Jem down then and there. "But I plan on cutting her time on this earth short - hopefully tomorrow night."
"There were more reasons for you to stay than to go off... alone... after a dangerous enemy like Jem,” Victor remonstrated. “You are not the only one who will be hunting her, I am quite sure."
Sorrow walked back into the lounge, looking upset. "You're hunting Jem?" Sorrow glanced at Victor and shook his head. "Want a hand?"
"Sure you're not taking on more than you can handle?" Jade kept her tone light but her eyes betrayed her inner feelings. "You're going to be awfully busy with this thing with Xavier."
“No go on Xavier..." Sorrow was obviously unhappy with that decision.
Tash smiled at Sorrow, worried about the Xavier thing but deciding to leave that for now. "Yeah, help with Jem would be good. We could go looking for her tomorrow night."
Victor squeezed her hand, "Yes, we already have plans for the rest of tonight."
"Assuming you're up to it," Tash smirked in reply.
Deon goes recruiting
Sunday, 21st August 2005 - 2am
The vampire stared at the three piles of dust before him, then at the slight boy who stood impassively with his arms folded and a ‘just try me’ look in his eyes. He gulped audibly and backed away a step, evincing a smile from the boy.
“I see you’ve finally come around to my way of thinking,” Deon said. “What do you call yourself?”
“Stuart,” the vampire replied sullenly, casting a worried glance at the remains of his fellow gang members.
“Well, Stuart, I have a little job for you. I think you’ll find it’s fun.”
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Sunday 21 August 2005 - 8:45am
Drew and Galen left right after Kate woke up. Daye was still sleeping soundly in the guest room. Drew was dressed in the clothes from last night, wrinkled and a bit worse for wear after he'd slept in them. He suggested a nearby bakery to Galen where they could pick up bagels, doughnuts, and pastries. It was a shop he'd been to with Daye once or twice on a Sunday morning, so he knew they carried some things she liked. Soon, they were in Galen's car on the way to the bakery.
Once they were on the road, Drew turned to Galen, "So, what do you suppose those people last night wanted with Bibliophile? I got the impression that vampires don't usually attack large groups in well lit places."
Galen felt the craving for another cigarette and popped a stick of gum in his mouth as he turned down another road. It was a very good question. Hadn't one of them taken something? "They have been known to do that from time to time," he said. "The official story will probably be gangs on PCP or something like that. Anything more believable than the truth." He thought back to the events of the night before, trying to think of possible reasons that they could have had for the attack and found none.
Something Kate had said to him last night came to mind. Getting involved might not be wise, but if there was something wrong with Daye, he wanted to help. She was Kate's friend, so he owed her that much. "Drew, about what happened last night... do you have any idea what could have caused Daye's odd behavior after the attack?"
Drew looked decidedly uncomfortable after Galen's question. He wasn't sure what had happened to Daye last night. It was like a repeat of the things that had been happening earlier in the week. Except, after he gave her the gift on Wednesday night, things had seemed to be going so much better. Amanda was having a tough time, but she had seemed to be doing better, getting more rest, reconnecting with him. Drew sighed. "Honestly, Galen, I just don't know what to say. Daye's been acting a little odd. I thought things were finally starting to get better before last night. Now, I just don't know. I'm afraid there's something wrong with her, something physical. She's tired all the time. I don't know what to do."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I do know a little bit about sleep disruption," he said, remembering something like that had happened to Kate before. He had even taken some time when he was away to read up on sleep disorders and their causes, both natural and supernatural. "So, it's possible I could help you. Has she been under a lot of stress lately? That will likely be the first thing they want to check."
Drew looked thoughtful. "Well, there was that whole thing that happened in Ireland," he began. "And then her ex coming back from the dead. And she was worried about the party. Plus, she's going to be expanding the bookshop, which she's now totally in charge of. We probably shouldn't forget that on top of all that, she's a witch and a Watcher, and her friends are vampires, demons, and various hunters. I guess you could say Amanda's life is a bit stressful, huh?"
*That would qualify as an understatement,* Galen thought but did not say. The psychologists always insisted that stress was a very powerful force. With luck, there really wouldn't be anything else wrong with her, besides sounding like she took on too much too fast. "Yes, you could say that. It certainly would explain the sleep disruption. You mentioned something about odd behavior. That could also be caused by it, or symptomatic of something else. Though there's probably nothing to worry about and it is just stress."
Drew nodded. "It's just that she's been sort of distant the last week or so," Drew explained. "I don't want to sound all whiny, but I thought, after Ireland, that we were getting really close. I... love her. I thought she felt the same way about me, but for a while there I don't think she wanted me around at all. She didn't want me to even touch her. We talked on Wednesday, and I thought it was getting better. I just... I'm worried about her. What if there is something going on? Something more? Do you think I should encourage her to go see a doctor?"
Galen considered Drew's question carefully, continuing to chew viciously on his gum. The decision to cease smoking was one of those spur of the moment things, and he wondered at the wisdom of not preparing for it better. It would be very nice to be able to rule out natural causes for Daye's behavior, or even to find out that it was just stress. But what if Drew mentioned that he had asked Galen for advice? He didn't know her very well, but didn't want to see her get hurt, or worse ruin her friendship with Kate because Daye's boyfriend chatted with a bona fide paranoid. "I honestly don't know," he finally said. "She's been through a lot lately, but the worst should be over. If you give her a day or two to relax, things should improve. If not, then that might be a good idea. At the very least, that will tell you if there is any natural cause to her behavior."
Drew nodded. "That's what I was thinking," he said. "And actually, things have been a bit better lately. I think we're over whatever was causing all her trouble. I feel better about things anyway. Except for what happened to her last night, she's been sleeping pretty well this week. That's actually why what happened last night surprised me so much. I just wasn't expecting that, you know?"
"Don't think anybody was expecting that," Galen replied. "Still, I can sympathize with you. If anything like that happened to Kate, don't know what I'd do."
Drew nodded, gazing out the car window. He didn't know what to do either. In Ireland, as helpless as he'd felt, at least he'd known something was wrong. This was different. This was like a bad feeling that wouldn't go away. Daye's behavior was a little off, but he couldn't pinpoint a cause. Because of that, Drew had no idea what to do, or if he even needed to do anything at all.
"It's funny," Drew turned back to Galen. "When we came home from our vacation, we were so happy. Everything was perfect. Then, all of a sudden, Daye's old boyfriend shows up and things go haywire. I want to blame him, but I'm sure that's just the jealousy talking you know? Who wants to be confronted by their lover's past? It's bad enough knowing there was someone before you, without having to actually meet that someone face to face."
Galen opened his mouth as if to speak, then promptly closed it. It wasn't that he couldn't understand how Drew was feeling, but that he didn't know how much Drew knew. Ryan might very well have something to do with it, as he was a demon. Besides, what were you supposed to say when you saw the person before you brutally killed? "Is this the place?" he asked, subtely changing the subject. Drew nodded, and he pulled into the parking lot as the pair went inside to get breakfast.
Drew and Galen didn't continue their conversation inside the shop. They ordered pastries, bagels, and all the fixings, paid and quickly returned to Galen's car. Once they were back on the road, Drew asked Galen a new question. "So, I was wondering..." Drew seemed nervous all of a sudden. "What I mean is... Last night, with those vampires... you seemed sort of unsurprised by that. Does that sort of thing happen a lot? I mean, are you used to it or something? Cause I realize dating a witch means some unusual things are going to come up, but I didn't realize there'd be vampires on a regular basis."
"You would be surprised at the number of stories you read in the paper that are convenient fictions," Galen said, switching to a new stick of gum. Drew would also be surprised at the number of 'fictions' that never made it to the print stage. "What surprised me about last night was number of vampires that showed up for the attack. Usually, they work alone or in small groups. Bloody masacares tend to draw attention, which in turn draws hunters and slayers. You seem to be taking the existence of some of the, shall we say, more odd members of the city population well. Most people would just rationalize it away."
Drew laughed. "I'm guessing Daye didn't tell you what I do," he said.
Galen stopped in puzzlement. "No, she didn't. What do you do, if you don't mind my asking?"
"I'm an associate professor at UCLA," Drew replied. "I teach paranormal studies, and I do research on paranormal subjects for various groups. They fund me with grants and send me off to record and, usually, explain unusual phenomena. Up until recently, I would find out that mostly there are a lot of people out there willing to perpretate elaborate hoaxes on the general public."
"Yes, there are," Galen said, reflecting that he had no idea he was speaking to one of them, although most of his hoaxes were that paranormal phenomena were false. "There's a lot of money for a clever illusionist to make in that particular field. Still, it has to come as a real shock that all of these things you read about are real, especially when your colleages will all deny it for professional reasons."
Drew sighed. "That's true," he said. "My parents are convinced that I'm off my rocker for ever having pursued the subject at all. They wanted me to go into the family business of making oodles of money on investments and being one of the idle rich. My mother, especially, was upset when I told her I was going to teach. Most of the people in my tiny department think that the existence of anything remotely supernatural is ludicrous. We're actually an offshoot of the psychology department. It's not easy being a visionary." Drew smiled ruefully at his own joke.
Galen tensed inwardly at Drew's joke. The moment he tried to publish anything that could prove the existence of the the supernatural, he would have effectively comitted professional suicide. There were reasons the truth was concealed, not least of which was fear of what the fundamentalists would do with it. Society had enough problems without some religious zealot deciding that the existence of the supernatural confirms his beliefs, and tried to start a new Inquisition. "A visionary, eh? You don't plan on trying to present evidence to the world at large, do you?"
Drew frowned. "Do I look stupid to you?" he asked. "I know what that could do. I don't hide behind rose colored glasses, you know. If people found out about this stuff, the results could be disastrous. I am in love with a witch. The last thing I'm interested in is another Salem, right?"
Relief washed over Galen at hearing that. "Sorry. It's just that sometimes, people get a little... well, carried away with searching for the truth."
"I understand," Drew said. "I just need to know what's out there for me. Ever since I was young, I've felt like there's more to life than what we can explain away. That's why I do what I do. Not for anyone else, just for me." Galen nodded at that, another feeling he could understand. They finished the ride in silence as they pulled into Kate's driveway, and began to carry in the food.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
******Sunday, 21st August 2005 – 9:30am******
The kettle began to whistle shrilly. Kate moved across the kitchen and removed it from the stove. It was a dreary morning and Kate's mood wasn't improved by the memory of the previous night. First Daye, then the Black Veins. She rubbed her throat gently, in an attempt to soothe away the bruises. *Why did they always go for the throat?* she wondered idly as she started pouring the tea into the pot.
The shrill whistle of a teakettle roused Daye out of her slumber. She sat up and yawned, rubbing at her eyes. She was in Kate's spare room. Vaguely, she recalled agreeing to go home with her friend after the disaster at Bibliophile. Groaning, she pulled back the covers and stepped gingerly off the bed. She'd missed the big battle in the bookshop, but she was sore from sleeping in the back of Parasol's car. Daye stood, and glanced down at herself, feeling a bit self-conscious. She was wearing only the bits of white silk and lace she'd donned beneath her party dress. Drew had stripped her down and put her to bed when they arrived last night. She had no idea where he was now. Daye was very glad to see a thick white terrycloth robe sitting laid over the chest at the foot of the bed. Her dress was on a hanger, on the back of the closet door, looking none the worse for wear. Daye slipped into the robe and quickly made her way downstairs. She came upon Kate pouring tea in the kitchen.
"Morning, Kate," Daye said softly from the doorway. "Are you okay?"
Kate looked up seeing Daye in the doorway and smiled lightly. The harsh words of the previous night still hadn't been forgotten - not by Kate anyway, but more than hurt she felt... *What was it? Afraid? Afraid of what?*
Daye sat down at the table and Kate tried to shrug away her doubts as she poured the tea. "Drew went out with Galen to get breakfast; they shouldn't be long," said Kate not looking at Daye. "Tea?" she asked after a long silence, finally turning to face her friend.
Daye nodded. "Yes, tea would be nice," she was puzzled by Kate's attitude. Her friend seemed to be upset with her, and Daye couldn't understand why. "Is anything wrong?"
Kate frowned at Daye's question; she turned away and finished pouring the tea. *Maybe I'm just making a big deal out of nothing,* she thought in puzzlement. Daye didn't seem to harbour any bad feeling anyway, in fact she was acting as though nothing had happened between them last night.
Kate placed the tea on a tray along with milk and sugar and brought it over to the table. "No, nothing's wrong," she said, smiling again. *Nothing except you acting crazy, defending the reprehensible behaviour of your ex-demon lover.*
Daye shrugged. "Okay," she said, adding sugar and milk to her tea. She sipped it slowly and then sighed. "Heaven. It's so hard to find a decent cup of tea in this country. So, about last night... I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you all with the vampires. I'm still not sure what happened."
Kate warmed her hands on her tea while she waited for it to cool. "That makes two of us, I think they were looking for something. I followed one of Jem's lackeys into the backroom, he was rummaging through the cupboards and stuff back there." Kate took a sip of her tea, "He took this book from the cabinet, I don't know what it was. Some kind of diary or journal from the looks of it." Kate sighed again and rolled her neck back; she was still hurting from that fight. "Whatever it was Jem called the attack off once random vamp guy got his hands on it."
Daye looked thoughtful. What Kate described sounded an awful lot like the family journal she'd found in Ireland. But that didn't make any sense. What would a local gang of young vampires in L.A. want with a journal, hundreds of years old and written by Daye's family? There was no logical reason for it. "I think I know what book you're talking about. I just don't know why Jem or her lackeys would want it."
"Well, urm, what was it?" asked Kate curiously.
"It was a journal," Daye explained. "My family's to be precise. Sort of a chronicle of the Blaise family passed on from generation to generation for a few hundred years. No one's even written in it in a really long time. Since all that with the witch hunts and the 'trap'. I just don't see why any vampires would be interested in it."
Kate though on what Daye had said. She knew very little about Daye's family heritage except the small amount she had been told in Ireland. "So, no spells or incantations, nothing like that?"
"Not as far as I know," Daye replied, looking a bit embarrassed. "Although, honestly, I haven't had time to really examine it yet. Guess I won't get to now, huh?"
"I don't like this, something isn't right. Tash told me that she'd been doing a lot of patrolling lately and she'd found out that Jem had been doing a major recruitment drive in the surrounding areas. Whatever last night was about it was planned, I'm sure of it. I just wish we knew more about this journal and why a bunch of half-witted vampires would go to such lengths to steal it."
Kate finished her tea and poured out another cup. She looked up at the clock on the wall. For some reason she felt really uncomfortable and was desperate for Drew and Galen to return.
Daye sipped her tea, pondering the journal, the vampires, and her own strange fainting spell last night. How had she ended up in the back of Parasol's car and why? Daye's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden knock on the kitchen door. Both women looked up in surprise.
Kate looked a little confused; no one really used the back door unless it was already open. Kate put her cup down and walked towards the door, tightening her robe around her body as she walked. She turned the key that was still resting in the lock and opened the door a crack. She was completely stunned to see Ryan standing before her, his eyes soft and a repentant smile curling his lips.
Kate opened the door more widely; she could feel herself tense although she tried to keep her voice calm. "What are you doing here?"
Ryan smiled his most charming, disarming smile, glancing past Kate at Daye. "I came to check on Daye," he replied, sounding sincere and concerned. *And to make sure those morons got the book.* "I heard what happened at the bookshop. Is everyone all right?"
"We’re fine,” said Kate defensively, she still didn't trust this guy as far as she could throw him, despite all his charming smiles and concern. “How did you know where I lived?” she asked accusingly, “Moreover, how did you find out what happened last night anyway, I don’t recall you being invited…”
Ignoring Kate's obvious hostility, Ryan stepped into the kitchen, brushing past her. Daye rose from the table and moved towards him. "I went by the shop this morning looking for you. The place is a real mess. Are you okay?"
Daye nodded, smiling softly. Her gaze had gone soft and dreamy. "I'm fine," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You shouldn't have worried. My friends took good care of me. I wasn't even in the shop when the vampires attacked."
Kate watched the couple from by the door. She couldn't believe the way Daye was acting; it was almost like she was in a trance. "As you can see, Daye is fine, you can go now."
Ryan glanced quickly at Kate, frowning. "I'm sorry if you think I'm intruding," he said. "I was just worried about her. Daye and I are still friends. I don't want anything to happen to her. Or to anyone else she cares about. Do you know why those vampires attacked the shop?"
Kate sighed and closed the door; it was obvious Ryan wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon. "No I don't know." Kate took a bold step forward. "Do you?"
Ryan looked shocked. "How would I?" he asked, sounding wounded. "I guess you don't trust me, and I can't say I blame you. I messed things up when I came to Daye's that night. I realise that. But I don't want to hurt her. I don't want to hurt anyone." *Not yet anyway,* Ryan relished the thought of teaching this haughty witch some manners. "I probably should go, Daye," Ryan turned to his ex-lover.
Daye shook her head. "No, you don't have to leave," Daye said. "I'm glad you came. Those vampires trashed my shop and they took something of mine. I feel better knowing that you're looking out for me."
Kate rolled her eyes in annoyance. It was sickening watching Daye act all moony eyed and girly around this creep. Actually Kate couldn't think of anything better than Ryan leaving right now, but Daye's voice was insistent and Kate didn't want to provoke her into another argument that would only alienate her further. Yet she could sense the malice coming from Ryan. While his outward appearance was all appreciative smiles his inner thought betrayed him. She knew he'd like nothing better than to get her out of the way.
Kate looked again at the clock, now would be a really good time for Galen and Drew to return. *But what will Drew say if he finds Ryan here?*
Keeping her gaze fixed stonily on the unwelcome ‘guest’ Kate moved slightly closer to the table. Still she kept her distance; there was just something about this guy that made her not want to drop her guard too early.
Ryan could sense Kate's wariness. Her senses were too acute. He would never be able to persuade her that he was good for Daye. It would be better for him to stick to his original plan, drive a wedge between Daye and everyone else. Then, once Daye gave Mariah what she wanted, Ryan could teach Miss Kate a lesson about her own worth. The stuck up little bitch would learn soon enough who held the real power. Ryan was filled with a rush of pleasure at the thought of tormenting and devouring the delectable Miss Wiccham.
"Are you sure that you're all right?" Ryan ran his hands over Daye's arms, as if checking her for breaks or bruises.
Daye nodded, shivering at his touch. She was staring intently at him, almost mesmerised. "I'm fine now," she sighed. "Thank you."
Ryan wrapped his arms around her shoulders cuddling her close, and Daye rested her head on his chest, just beneath his chin. Over her head, Ryan stared triumphantly at Kate. "I'm glad you are all okay," he said. Ryan's tone was conciliatory, but he watched Kate, a mixture of rage and lust in his eyes as he took in the sight of her in her thin robe. His mouth twisted in a sinister smile. "Where are your... friends?" he asked. "I would think those boys would be loathe to leave you two alone after what happened last night."
Kate shuddered involuntarily as Ryan's gaze passed over her. He'd changed tack again, now he wasn't even trying to disguise his true feelings, except to Daye of course. Kate watched with disgust as Daye basked in Ryan's embrace.
"Our 'friends' will be back soon, very soon. In fact it might be a good idea if you left now Ryan. You can see Daye is perfectly fine. And Drew will be back; he won't be happy if you're still here. Isn't that right Daye?" Kate purposefully addressed her friend, hoping it might pull her out of her trance-like state.
Daye turned her gaze on Kate, blinking as if readjusting her eyes. Her expression became confused, and she slowly stepped away from Ryan, looking around as if unsure of what was happening. "Drew?" she repeated. "Yes, Drew will be here soon. He might not like it if you're here, Ryan." Daye nibbled her bottom lip nervously. "Drew doesn't understand," she said mournfully. "He feels... threatened by you. I don't want to... hurt him."
Ryan shot Kate a look of pure venom, then turned his most understanding smile on Daye. "I understand, Daye," he spoke softly, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. "I just wanted to make sure everything was all right. I don't want to make things hard on you. I'll go." Ryan walked over to the door, sneering at Kate as he deliberately brushed against her when he passed.
Kate felt an icy chill creep over her flesh as Ryan brushed past her; she grabbed the countertop to steady herself before her nerves gave way. She didn't realise just how on-edge Ryan's presence had made her feel. Ryan stalked out of the door without a backward glance, with a small gesture of anger Kate waved her arm and the door slammed shut.
"What the hell is going on Daye?"
Daye stared at Kate as if the other woman had lost her mind. "What?" she asked, walking back over to the table and sitting down. She idly played with her teacup, her expression soft and dreamlike. "It was nice of him to come check up on me, wasn't it?"
Kate felt like slapping Daye just to get that sappy, love-struck look from her face. Why couldn't she see this Ryan for what he really was? An evil, malevolent, vicious, deceptive, two-faced monster! "Damn it Daye! What is wrong with you? It's like you're under some kind of spell!"
As soon as the words came out of her mouth Kate knew there must be some ounce of truth in them – regardless of what Daye's answer might be. She felt like a fool, why hadn't she been able to figure it out sooner? *Because you've been so tired you couldn't think straight?* "He's up to something Daye, trust me, he's, he's done something to you... You have to stop seeing him."
Daye looked at Kate, her expression clouding. "What?!" she rose from the chair. "Are you crazy? I'm not under some sort of spell. What is it with you, anyway? Ryan's my friend. He just came by to see if I was all right. He didn't even do anything. I have no idea why you hate him so much, but lay off, okay? You're my friend too, but I don't want to hear you badmouthing him. I told you that last night."
Kate was convinced in herself that there was something supernatural going on. All the while Kate had known Daye she’d always been so level-headed, so pragmatic. Never irrational, and she would never treat someone she professed to love the way she was treating Drew right now. There were other ‘forces’ at work here, and Kate was certain Ryan was behind it.
“I have good cause to hate Ryan!” said Kate emphatically. “Unlike you I actually know what he’s thinking! He’s evil Daye, you can’t see it because he’s hiding it from you, but he is full of hate. I really think he wants to hurt you.”
Daye stared incredulously at Kate, shocked at her outburst. *Ryan?! Hurt me?!* she thought. *That's impossible.* "Kate, I think you need a vacation or something," Daye said reasonably. "You're starting to see evil where there is none. Not everyone in the world is out to get us. Sometimes, the nice guy really is a nice guy. I know Ryan. He would never hurt me. Never!"
"Daye why would I lie to you? I'm your friend - I only have your best interest at heart. I don't have any hidden agendas, why can't you just trust me?"
Daye considered Kate's words carefully. Kate was her friend. There was no reason to doubt that Kate believed what she was saying. But Kate was wrong. She'd misunderstood, misinterpreted Ryan's concern, his desire for Daye to be safe. Ryan wanted her to be happy.
Daye tried to figure out a way to make Kate believe that. She just couldn't. "All right, Kate," Daye said, "I hear what you're saying. I don't agree with you, but I hear you. I know you believe it. I just don't know why. I don't think Ryan would hurt me. I really don't."
Kate was about to say something when she heard the front door click open and the familiar voices of Drew and Galen filtered into the kitchen from the hallway. Kate watched Daye in guarded silence as Drew came into the kitchen and planted a kiss on Daye's cheek. Then he returned to the hallway to help Galen with the breakfast things.
Kate lowered her voice. "Whatever's going on, I think you have a decision to make."
Daye had accepted Drew's kiss, looking for all the world like a woman totally in love with her man. She nodded at Kate. "Don't worry so much," she whispered back. "I know who I love, who I want to be with. I've already made my choice. Ryan and I are just friends. Everything's okay."
Daye stood and went into the hall to see if Drew and Galen needed her for anything, leaving Kate alone in the kitchen.
Kate sighed and sank into a chair as Daye left the room. "We're 'just friends, everything's okay', where have I heard that before?"
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
*****Sunday, 21 August 2005 - Noon*****
As Daye and Drew climbed into their cab Kate turned back into the house and closed the door. As she returned to the kitchen, Galen was already begining to clear away the breakfast things. He glanced up at Kate, noticing her distressed and slightly worried expression. He dried his hands of washing-up soap suds and then wrapped his arms around her comfortingly.
"That was a... umm, a little bit tense right?" Galen had noticed the tension in the house as soon as he and Drew returned with the breakfast things. Kate and Daye had hardly spoken at all during breakfast. "So, are you going to tell me what happened while I was gone?"
Kate was silent for a long moment. She didn't know how to explain things without Galen getting all worried, or angry or both. She looked up into Galen's eyes and relented. "Ryan was here."
Galen raised an eyebrow at that. He was more than a little curious as to how exactly Ryan knew where Kate's house was, though was more concerned with finding out exactly how much of a threat the demon was. Mainly he was worried that Ryan would put Kate in danger, especially after the one night when he had encountered him.
“Ryan… was here?” he repeated. Kate nodded in reply. “What did he do? He didn’t threaten you or anything did he?”
"Well..." Kate's voice was slightly shaky and uncertain. "Not technically, I mean he didn't say anything, it was more what he thought." She paused for a moment, then pulled away from Galen's embrace and started stacking the plates and cups on the table into one neat pile. "Um, basically he wants me out of the way, which could involve lots of violence... and possibly death. I think there might have been a threat in there somewhere."
The sound of “out of the way” hardly did sound pleasant. He was concerned enough that, when Monday came around, he would make sure to open a file on Ryan and get him under as much watch as could be justified. Depending on why he would want Kate out of the way, in the end his actions might even not look like a blatant abuse of power to help his girlfriend. Which reminded him of something Drew had said that morning. “Drew thinks Ryan might be behind whatever happened to Daye last night, though he also thinks he’s just being the jealous boyfriend. Kate, if Ryan tries to harm you in any way…” his voice trailed off at the unpleasant thought of even the possibility of that happening.
"Galen, Ryan is very dangerous, he - he's a demon. He's strong, he has powers and... you have to promise me you won't do anything... stupid."
Kate sighed tiredly and sat down, resting her head in her hands. After a moment she spoke again. "I think Ryan has done something to Daye, put her under some kind of spell or trance or something. We need to find out more about him, what his powers are, what he can do. The most important thing here is to help Daye. I really think she's in danger."
“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything stupid,” Galen assured her. At least not right away, he thought. Going up against a demon you knew nothing about would certainly not be the brightest thing he had ever done, but he was willing to do it if there was no choice. “Just give me a day or two. I’m sure enough evidence will turn up to justify the Bureau keeping an eye on him.”
“It might need more than just keeping an eye on him, we need to know what Ryan’s doing to Daye and more importantly why. I just get the feeling that there’s more going on here than meets the eye. I keep thinking about last night with Jem and her cronies stealing that book. Daye said it was a journal written by her ancestors - she found it at the castle in Ireland. Something just doesn't add up, why would a bunch of not very smart vampires want to steal a book?"
Galen thought back to half-remembered reports on the various vampire gangs. Jem sounded familiar when he remembered the name Black Veins. It wasn’t just peculiar, it was damned peculiar in retrospect. *And to hell with my security clearance.* “You’re right. Before my suspension, I got a few reports on her gang. Nothing we have indicates Jem would be interested in doing something like this on her own - not to mention the question of how they knew about the book. They didn’t steal anything else."
“What did Ryan want?” he asked as a connection only the bona fide paranoids are capable of making occurred. “Did he say anything at all he should not have been in a position to know?”
Kate shook her head, "Mostly he just asked after Daye. I did think it strange that he knew where I lived, though I suppose Daye could have told him. And then... well it seemed as though he already knew about the attack at Bibliophile. I mean he pretended that he didn't but... He knew, I'd swear on it."
Kate looked at her hands as she fiddled with the cord of her robe. "He has Daye completely under his thrall. I just, I don't know what to do. I feel that she can still be reached, but it's getting worse, if we don't do something soon to stop whatever is going on, it may be too late."
Galen reassuringly took Kate’s hands in his own, nodding carefully. There was more than enough to justify placing Ryan under surveillance. He could even indicate ‘anonymous tip’ as his source when he went to write the first report. “Well, I can’t promise much, but just give me a few days and Ryan won’t be able to do so much as order pizza without us finding out.”
Another thought occurred to him as he remembered Anthony and the library he would be able to access at Constillias Publications. No, they. Besides, it would let him annoy the man to no end. “One of my friends might be able to help with more occult sources, if you think those would be useful.”
"Yes, that would. The more we can find out about Ryan, and this journal for that matter, the better."
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
“A Street Hope Renamed Disaster.”
Saturday August 20, 2005. 12:30 PM.
ACT I.
Mmmbop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du
Yeah
Bunny touched the volume, and Hanson went away. That left the A/C unit droning in the window. She crossed its arctic tides, seized the curtains, and braced herself. Sun dazzled her as she flung them open; she turned from the light. The bed appeared in spots, and Bill swelled, a protuberance under four layers of blankets. His love handles showed. “It’s noon-thirty,” she said. She slapped his skin—a raw splat, like whole turkey. The edge of the mattress sank under her bottom. “You set the radio to go off at noon. Come on. Get up. Days is half over.”
Bill gave a start. This was routine for him. He’d wake and watch his afternoon soaps, then go back to sleep. When she came through the door yesterday, excited to give him the news, she found him snoring, a tipped bowl of chili in his arms and brown juice soaking the sheets. He didn’t understand that dating her was a privilege. Time for his wakeup call. She opened the bedside drawer and reached inside.
“See this?” she said.
“It’s a yellow piece of paper.”
“It’s a note from the landlord. The rent check you wrote bounced. I thought you said your mother mailed us a thousand dollars.”
Bill’s mustache peeked from under the covers, then his cheeks of steel. He stopped. “You’re wearing a name tag,” he said, of course trying to change the subject.
“I got a job.”
“Just in time, babe. How much are we making?”
“More than when I was working security. And I get a raise when I finish training on Monday. But guess what?”
“How many hours a week?”
“Forty,” she said. A grin possessed her. “But guess who my first customer was? You’ll never guess. Sam. It was Sam.”
“Sam who?”
“Sam.”
Bill stretched his neck out of the soft shell of blankets. “What’s Goober doing in LA, how long’s he been here?” he said. “Jesus.” He threw his legs off the side of the bed. His belly, once a tapered sheet of muscles, rolled into his crotch. It sickened her, the sight of it, so she pushed him back against the pillow and tugged the comforter over his shoulder.
“He didn’t say.”
Bill removed her busy hands. “You don’t cross paths with your ex-wife for the first time after she betrays you and fail to mention it. If I were in his shoes, I’d have given you a heiko zuki.” He proffered two fists, some karate thing. Bunny rolled her eyes.
“I don’t know how to tell you this,” she said, “but yesterday was not the first I talked to Sam since…that time.” The year-old image of her husband at the foot of the bed crossed her mind. He had just caught her screwing Bill, in this memory, and Sam’s response was to sit down. Oh, the hurt on his face, an image sealed in guilt. “We talked once more after that.”
“Nah,” Bill said. “You told me you never saw him again. You said that, Bunny.”
“I didn’t see him. We talked. It was over the phone.”
“You never told me that.”
“I felt responsible. I had to make sure he was going to recover. Will it make you feel better to know I asked him to step aside and go on with his life? It was just a phone call, Bill.”
“You. Never. Told me.”
“No. I didn’t.”
“Lying bitch.” He slammed his fist into the mattress and damn near gave her a heart attack. “Well? How did he take it? During this phone call that you kept from me.”
“He was crying,” she said, hand-over-chest. “He even used a swear word.”
“Now I know you’re lying.”
“I don’t think you realize how bad we messed with his head. It wasn’t pretty.”
“Goober Aubrey used a swear word.” Bill turned and laughed. “I’d pay big bucks to hear Sam deliver just one ‘fuck.’ Did he curse you when you saw him yesterday?”
“No. Jesus, Bill. He said he was sorry.”
“What else?”
“It’s awkward. And quite frankly, private.”
“Private? Private?”
“Yeah. Between my husband and me.”
“Ex-husband.”
”Not technically.”
Bill threw up his hands. He fondled the blond hairs between his lip and chin. “Your husband, damn,” he muttered. “’Sorry,’ huh?”
“I was in shock. I wouldn’t have guessed he’d ever leave Oregon. And then to show up at my job like that, I think he was just as surprised as I was. We exchanged a few words, he paid for a stack of music CD’s, then he bolted. He didn’t look good at all. Kind of messed me up too.”
“That’s just like Goober.”
“What is?”
“That he apologized. He always cared too much.”
“Is that a crime?”
“It is the way he does it. It’s like this, a quick story: once we were late, we missed the bus. It was for Mr. Battle’s art class, first period.”
“So this is a story about high school.”
“Gee, ya think?” he said. “Anyway, we come across a collie in the street. I jump over it. But that husband of yours falls behind. The dog’s head was mangled, but it wasn’t dead. A truck must have hit it. Man, the tire tracks in its skull were this big.”
“Oh my god.”
“Course, I’m still running, yelling over my shoulder, ‘Hurry up, Goob.’ He kneels next to it thinking he can help. I book ass to school. Fuck him if he wants to stay. And that stupid little freak, he still makes it to class with seconds to spare. The guy, I'm tellin’ ya, he's the alter ego of the Flash. So, okay, the bell starts ringing, and he sits at his desk with dog blood all over, on his arms, his fingernails, backpack. Otherwise, he was white as a sheet. He leaned back, and it’s like this, he whispers, ‘I put it to sleep, Bill.’”
“How-w did he do that?”
“You do not want to know. But, anyway, it’s not important. He went back after school to locate the family. Turns out the dog belonged to this six-year-old retard. And Sammy, the seal that he is, takes her to the pet store and buys her a puppy. In the real world, you don’t take responsibility for something that’s not your fault.” Bill threw the blanket off, exposing his stretch marks. “LA’s going to eat him alive.”
“He’s stronger than you think,” she said, scooting back. She tossed Bill a corner of blanket in hopes that he'd take the hint and cover up.
“So yeah, babe, it’s just like him to apologize to you. Even though you’re the one who cheated on him.”
“We cheated on him.”
“Damn,” Bill said in reverie. “Sammy Aubrey in L.A. What a thing that is.”
What kind of person leaves a dying animal in the street? What kind of husband would a man who betrays his best friend make? What kind of father? Sam would have made a good father.
“Yes,” she murmured. “It is.”
She unfolded the yellow piece of paper. Bill should sell his TV and stereo to reclaim that bounced check. She should tell him so. But whenever she started a conversation, he took control, and she found herself stuttering and trying to keep up. With Sam, it had always been the opposite.
“Heh.” Bill slanted his eyebrows. “I was just thinking of that time you showed up at my place at 2 AM. You and Goob had been fighting.”
She remembered the argument. She’d gone out of her way to start it, an excuse to end up at Bill’s house. Worse mistake she ever made.
“Remember begging me for a bed to sleep in,” he asked, “and crying that you never wanted to see him again?”
“Got a point, Bill?”
“Yeah. I got a point. Whenever we talk about Sam your nipples get hard.”
“Hm?” She immediately checked, saw nothing, and froze, hating herself. He’d tricked her, made her look. She found an egg stain on her blouse and picked at it.
“I never even thought Sam was all that cute,” she said. “I didn’t love him. I used him to stay in the country.”
“You are so Americanized,” he said, eyeing her breasts casually. “Too used to convenience, and Sam was convenient. And I sure was convenient, wasn’t I? When you were trying to get out of your marriage. I knew you wanted Billy Boy the first time you saw me kicking ass at my black belt competition.” Bunny tugged a fold of blanket into her lap. “Come on. C’mere. Show me how convenient I still am.”
She leaned out of Bill’s reach. He recoiled.
“I see,” he said. “I get it. Now Bill’s inconvenient, huh?”
“Don’t take it personal, luv.”
“Tell me. Tell me true. Is Sam still…inconvenient?”
“Of course not, uh,” she said, feeling trapped by the question. “Of course he is. I mean, I don’t want Sam. Okay? I don’t even know where he lives.”
She swallowed and said no more. This was a stupid conversation. It did nothing toward getting Bill to show her some appreciation, nor was it paying the rent. He deserved a punch in the face; she looked away. The air conditioner toiled in the window. It had been running all day, making the room cold and expensive.
“Ho-lee shit,” Bill said. “You are going back to him. Aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Assuming you find out where he lives, that is.”
“No, no.”
“And leave me with all our hospital bills.”
“Wait right there. Those are your hospital bills.”
“This is a partnership, remember?
“Is it?” she said. “Tell me. What happened to that thousand dollars your mom sent?”
“Just like a woman. Knock a guy up, then knock him down.”
“That’s just about the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. And, for the record, I never said anything about going back to Sam. That’d take a miracle.” She folded her hands. She placed them in her lap with the blanket and the notice from the landlord. “I’m sure he hates me.”
Bill sat up, grunting. “I see it. You’re a goddamn alien, aren’t you? It’s the only explanation.”
“What?”
“It totally makes total fuckin’ sense,” he said. “That tabloid, the Spy, they pegged it. You’re an X-File.”
“Allow me to repeat myself. ‘What?’”
Then he waved a fist, the lunatic. Bunny leapt to her feet and hid behind the yellow piece of paper. But he wasn’t after her. He leaned forward, threatening to strike the bulge in his stomach. “Got your attention, did I, Barbarella? What if I kill your precious implant?”
“You’re freaking me out,” she said.
“I’m freaking you out. I’m the pregnant guy. I am the one who is freaked, babe. Open the box office, cuz tickets to this show are a hundred bucks a pop. Pop goes the weasel.”
“Shh.”
“You seduce me, get me to cheat on my best friend. You move me to LA, and next thing you know I’m pregnant with your four-legged freak. And now you won’t even fuck me. Well ain’t that a pistol, you’re an alien abductor. I’m going to cut this creature out, where’s my knife? Help me out of this bed.”
“You can’t remove it. The pediatrician sa—”
“Blow the pediatrician. Get me a veterinarian. Better yet, get me a surgeon.”
“Maybe a brain surgeon.”
“Yeah? I’ll abort this baby, funny girl.” His flesh chafed as he squeezed his fingers into a gob of fist.
“Stop,” she said, “stop it.”
“Still thinking about leaving?”
“All—”
“You’re thinking. I can see it.”
“All I’m thinking about,” she said, a ripe red apple in her throat, “is saving our apartment. And getting you your baby carrots. The ones you like. With the dipping sauce.” She drew a wrist across her nose. “You love your carrots, Bill.”
“Yeah, you’re a hero. Thanks for all the carrots.”
“And paying the doctors. All that money.”
“All our hospital bills.”
“What are we going to do?” she said.
“Aw, how touching. Like you care about us as a couple. You don’t care.”
“Bill.”
“Not one bit.”
A tear hit her shoulder as she looked away. “Fine then. Maybe I don’t.”
“I knew it.”
“Good. Then at least one of us did.”
“You admit it then?” The hate in his voice faltered, his aberrant hormones dragging him round another loop. “How? How can you say that? Don’t you know that’s the worse thing you can say? Not caring is worse than hating.” He placed his face in his hands. “I can’t live like this no more.”
“Bill.”
He gave himself a practice slug, right in the bellybutton. Right then, Bunny relieved herself of the yellow paper. It floated to the carpet as she headed out of the room, pulling the bangs from her eyes. Bill was shouting after her, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Love me, hate me. Care.” Her walk turned into skips. She paused outside their apartment in the warmth of the hallway—looked right, the stairs to the lobby—looked left, the stairs to the roof. She shivered and turned left. She began running.
“Mark my words, Bunny Aubrey. I’ll kill our baby. I’ll kill Max.”
He named it.
She rushed out of the fire door under a blue sky and wispy clouds, under a sun so hot that sweat instantly filled her pores. Her shoes tore at the hard candy stick, in smears and clumps underfoot. She moved at top speed—in slow motion—through the roofing tar while grunting girlishly, yanking her legs free, tripping on broken shingles. And upon reaching the side of the building, she belly flopped on the wall—exhaled, both eye sockets bursting with tangerines. Her citrus tears fell. She stared straight down over a dozen floors and wheezed at the cars on the street.
When she could breath, she gasped. She straightened up and nervously felt her neck for a bulging thyroid, but found no such thing. That taste of death must have been in her lungs. She looked back over the flat, square roof. An arid haze rose from the patches of tar. She lost her shoes to a couple mounds of sweltering dinosaur crap. Her socks suffered the same, stolen by La Brea. Barefoot, she stood in the shade of the belly-high wall. Her feet were blackened, sticky, and warm, but not burned.
She wanted to leap off the ledge, fly away from all this. Two blocks over and two-score stories up, atop the tallest building in sight, a flagpole pierced the sky. The red, white, and blue cloth drooped through smoggy vagueness on this, the stillest of August afternoons.
Once upon a time, Bunny had been married. Those days had been calling to her, a time when two flags decorated the porch: US and China. Her husband always obliged when it came to observing her culture. Yet people called Sam a bigot. She never understood why.
Now she wanted to fall back into his arms
Back in the past
Alas, bunny paused. It was music…
He’d stepped up, off to the side
Just like she’d asked
Exquisite music, falling from the sky. It was if the lyrics had been written just for her. She reached for the flag, as if from down here, a mere 15-story pit, she could touch its white stars. She stretched, anyway, until her blouse came undone and the sharp digging of brassiere into collarbone seized her. It anchored her with pain. She was sinking. And the music continued to fall from that heavenly place over Hope street.
ACT II.
Hot blue above, cold gray below, white in the middle: this was the view 746 feet above Hope Street.
They’d marched through the fire door tallest to shortest, the youngest of the brothers lagging behind. First was Ike—the oldest. He hid his brown eyes behind pearl-studded shades. His once-blond hair, now green, hung straight as he took long-legged strides over concrete and rising vapors. The air clutched his skin. It rung out milky sweat that rolled down his neck in curds. Ike propped his guitar against the flagpole, then used his hockey jersey to dry off.
Tay followed, equally perspired, just as excited. Tay Hanson—the reincarnation of Kurt Cobain. He lowered his blue eyes into a squint once the cool darkness of the stairwell lay behind him. The sun made vivid his red synthesizer, which he carried like a surfboard. He began setting up next to Ike. Moby Dick tumbled from the rear pocket of his skater jeans.
Last to come grunting up the stairs: Zac—the group’s very own Chris partridge-turned-Keith Moon. He set down his Yamaha carry case and retrieved the novel for his older brother. Tay patted Zac’s shoulder and smiled. In reverse single file, shortest to Ike, the threesome went back through the door to fetch the rest of their equipment.
Within the hour, Ike was hooking a generator to four massive speakers, thin as doors, wide as billboards. They faced outwardly from each corner of the building, ready to broadcast. Hanson’s ex-manager, Weathersby, on the subject: “Give away your music? Bollocks. Worse, compose it live over Los Angles? You simply do not invent songs off the cuff for 14.5 million people. The critics will mutilate you. I won’t have any part of it.”
And so he didn’t. Fine. Because Ike knew best.
Publicity.
With the last of them exiting his teens—Zac would turn 20 in October—living with Mom and Dad no longer cut the ketchup. They’d given up composing in their Western Tulsa bedroom, regardless that they wrote the classic Middle of Nowhere there. They bid farewell to its clutter of Medieval Times Legos and fond memories. Ike reminded his brothers to save nostalgia for the holidays. He saw Hanson flying in a new direction this year. The public thought they were going ska, and they were right. But that was just part of it. From now on, Hanson would be known as a progressive band, not limited to heartthrob ballads and Motown mimicry.
Zac tapped his cymbals, listening for a perfect “siss” as he quietly chanted, “Ska, punk, metal, rap, that’s where it’s at.”
Ike joined in. “Grunge, pop, Scottish rock, we’ll never stop."
“We will grow, we will shine, Hanson lives in twenty-oh-nine.” Zac “sassed” his cymbals and grinned.
“Stop wasting time,” Tay said. “Let’s prove Weathersby wrong.” All of the shopping district was going to hear this improvised concert. Hanson was bypassing the official airwaves. Their radio station would be the wind itself…assuming any wind showed up today. It was so deathly hot outside.
Tay sipped his water while programming “accordion” in the red synthesizer. “Mind if I go first? This song came to me last night in the motel room. It’s kind of sad, kind of slow, but Zac, I’ll need you to pick it up during the ‘she stepped back’ part.”
“The what part?”
“Just watch for my signal.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.”
Ike strummed his guitar as Tay touched a Bb key, producing a weeping stereophonic sound, analogous to a genuine Delicia. “We won’t need your guitar,” Tay said. “I want you playing the backup synthesizer. Strive for a touch of Celtic, okay?”
“Sure thing, Beavis.”
“Don’t know what else to tell you guys at this point.” Tay knew how to achieve it without quite knowing what “it” was. Although he trusted in his brothers’s ability to ride a spontaneous vibe, the more he revealed up front, the better. “I’ve got these lyrics swimming around my head. Just an…idea that came to me. Not saying it’ll be a hit single, but our fans should like it. So bear with me, and let’s give LA a taste of the new Hanson. Ready, Ike?”
“Huh-huh-huh. This is gonna be cool.”
Ike flipped a switch on the console. The million dollar speakers powered up, a soundless, vibrant aura felt by proximity alone. Tay perched his arms and imagined a pipe organ at his mercy. Then he swept upon it, bidding a festival of notes quite like an Irish parting song. His brothers listened before jumping in.
He adjusted the headset with his shoulder until the mic touched his bottom lip. There. Recalling the words that recently haunted him, he hummed in the spirit of the old country a modern day song. A ripe piece of fiction. As Tay started to sing, he wondered if it could have happened just this way.
He saw her once again
This time out of his mind
Her brown eyes blinking
He knew he had to say:
Sorry for everything
And for the nothing
If I’d just been someone
You’d have stayed my life, my love
You see I’ve never been
Able to please the world
And for me failing you
Please blame my hands
So how’ve you been, my love
I see you’re working here
Keeping real busy, then?
Do you think of me at times?
Tay utilized the shoulder straps on his keyboard and became mobile. Sipping bottled water, he walked past Zac. Zac got the hint and put some speed into his drumming. The most technically skilled member of the band, Zac allowed himself distractions while playing. The burnt-orange markings of a butterfly had him spellbound. It fluttered around his microphone, then off into the sky. Zac didn’t miss a beat.
Ike pulled up a flute on the backup synthesizer. Tay gave him a nod and erupted in a foot stomping chorus.
She stepped back
She grimaced
She got red
She made fists
Her feet tiptoed in place, she wanted to run
She loved him
And hated
The choices
She’d mated
What once added up now made sense to no one
They cut the tempo.
Now she wanted to fall back into his arms
Back in the past
(Zac: Alas!)
He stepped up, off to the side
Just like she’d asked
He saw her facial tic
T’was then he faced the light
Her brown eyes sinking
He knew he had to say:
I will not burden you
I’ve learned how to drift on
I’ll just pay for these songs
And shove off for good this time
He left her quivering
Customers cleared a space
An old crone took her head
And said, “There there, poor dear”
He caught the cross-town bus
He caught the sniffles too
And went to work that day
Bawling all them good old times
Zac beat out the second chorus. Ike piped in fast, in keeping with an Irish step dance. Tay joined him. Tay didn’t know the lyrics that were about to come out of his mouth. But he yawned, and they emerged.
He hopped back
With his mop
And hummed it
A doo-wop
Together they bopped into a pirouette
He loved her
And strangled
Spun with it
And mangled
Woke in the broom closet with nothing to say
Now he wanted her back within in his arms
Back in the past
(Zac: Alas!)
He stepped up, off to the side
Just like she’d asked
The narrative filtered through wavering heat, a torpid summer lake. It was as if those celestial voices were singing directly about her. The accordion had fingered her insides. She’d been touched, quenched. Bunny pulled a forearm across her head, then hysterically threw her hands together, but they did not hear; how could they hear her ovation? She lived in a vacuum.
Bunny murmured to herself the parts of the song she liked best, but couldn’t establish the tune. She sang, “He stepped aside and moved on with his life just like she asked him to,” but no. Crap, why couldn’t she remember? These rooftop musicians had removed her heart, then returned it, beating like a drum. She fully expected to see angels on high.
***
Tay rested his foot on the ledge and gazed upon the tops of the buildings. He took a sip of water. He wondered if anyone down there were listening. The guy at Island Records swore by the range of these speakers, so the answer was “probably.” Or perhaps their music was no more audible than aliens shouting in outer space.
Tay signaled his brothers to start the finale. Ike’s flute gave him the chills, which he shed before rendering the final eight verses of the lay.
He lost his oxygen
So we must sing for him
Speak up for his banshee
Resounding Irish hymn
If you can hear us, Sam
We know you’ve half a mind
To pick yourself up, man
Cast your blunders to the wind
ACT III.
Their entreaty did not reach Sam, however, who was out in Alhambra. All this time he’d been spinning CD’s like Frisbees off the roof of his apartment. They sailed over Poplar to the other side and bounced off the brick wall. That last one had been precious to him.
*So long, Wizard of Oz.*
He removed the plastic security strip off Paint Your Wagon and popped the disc into his palm. The fifth song on the play list read, “They Call the Wind Mariah.” Sad one.
He hurled it across the street. Anyone looking up would see a silver, spinning UFO, but to Sam, an object all too identifiable, too painful to keep in his collection. Each of his purchases reminded him of the chance meeting with Bunny that drove him out of Tech Wit. He’d been doing so good until then, too. He had a life. So when he finally saw her again, what did he say?
Lordy, lordy.
“Hey, Bunny, sorry I was so pathetic you had to screw Bill to get a real man. It’s okay. I’ll never bother you again. I don’t mind. I’m a loser. So you work here, huh?” Or something to that effect.
Sam opened the next case and prepared to throw. He didn’t know what he was saying; he’d been stunned by her appearance. And now it was too late to say, “I’ve moved on. I’m doing okay without you. Bye.” Yeah. That’s what he should have said, whether or not it was true. But what came out sounded more like “Excuse me while I pay for those CD’s over there and, uh, if yuh don’t mind, go temporarily insane in front of all these customers. Huh-huh-huh.”
*Farewell, Miss Saigon.*
Crack.
Luckily, no one noticed his little episode at work yesterday. He’d danced with a ropy-haired mop. They spun circles on into the broom closet, whereupon he passed out. He woke with a start thirty minutes later and got back to cleaning, his tantrum purged. He had pushed Bunny from his conscious mind. That way, Tash wouldn’t detect his humiliation during their Friday training. And, later, he avoided Reah altogether.
*Seeya, Reservoir Dogs.*
Mariah did not visit him last night during his 10-hours of sleep. Why, then, did he feel no more rested now than if she had? So silent, so unmoving, was this air around him, he may as well have been dreaming. Except he neither heard the screaming of dolphins nor her soft, motherly, “I love you, Sam.”
*Good-bye, Dolly! Don’t forget to write.*
He wished Mother were with him in the real world. He had an idea that she could take his mind off of Bunny. Make it all better. Someday.
Just then, a dancing butterfly appeared, beating around his head and whispering in flight.
“Hello, bug,” Sam said. “’Fraid you’re wasting your time with me. I’m just a caterpillar.”
The creature rested on his shoulder. Its wings stiffened. It waited.
“Sorry, little fella, no music. All out of CDs. Unless you want me to sing to you. But you don’t want that. That’d be scary.”
It waited.
“You can just sit there all you want, but I’m not singing.”
It waited.
It made him laugh, which felt good. “I’m serious. I may be going out of my head, but that don’t give me the right to sing about it.”
It waited.
“Okay. You asked for it.”
Sam opened his mouth. The thought of harmonizing out loud made him uncomfortable. But since his audience consisted of a bug…
Mariah
Mariah
They call the wind Mariah
“Hey, not bad. Huh, Mr. Butterfly?”
The butterfly waited.
Sam had never so much as tried singing in the shower. Dad used to sing in the shower, which was enough to frighten any son out of inheriting the mistake. But maybe this was Sam’s one talent. He smiled, the first breeze of afternoon playing with the hairs on his head.
A way out here they’ve got a name
For rain and wind and fire
The rain is Tess
The fire’s Joe
And they call the wind Mariah…
A sudden draft raced through downtown Hope Street, and a man lost his hat. His miniature poodle started barking. The man retracted her mechanical leash to heel-length and crouched forward. He made grabs for the felt bowler as it rolled through the legs of the people. This time maybe he had it. Yes, no, yes—he closed his fingers around the rim. It vanished into the sky, out of sight. He wondered, “What in the world, what in the world?”
Pritzie mewled by his loafers. The doggie leash vibrated in his hand, and the mechanism clicked, releasing some two inches of its threadlike, steel cord. Still bewildered by the loss of his hundred dollar hat, the man tugged at the plastic handle. Something tugged back, something powerful. Click, click.
The leash went mad. It zipped with the ferocity of a rod and reel giving up its line to a White Marlin. It spun him around to his knees. Five feet, ten feet, fifteen feet, it ran. Pritzie shot twenty feet into the air and rippled like a kite.
The man mumbled, fumbling with the lock. The cord halted, yanking his arm outside the socket. He howled. Whatever force had taken his pet now called upon him. He struggled into the nearest store, begging for help, the leash over his shoulder. A Tek Wit stock boy and his manager grabbed hold and began hauling Pritzie in. The automatic doors tried closing around the line, which was taut and flying at an angle out of the store. The man couldn’t see his darling poodle, and people in the street had begun hollering over her frightened yips. A small car sailed by the window—
Upside down.
A snap traveled down the leash. “Did you feel that?” the stock boy said. “The leash busted.” Or maybe the buckle gave way on Pritzie’s collar. By all logic, she should be on the moon. But the clerks reeled her in, and behind her the automatic doors closed. Her carcass hit the floor. Her neck looked like a kinked hose, leaking water, but not water. Crimson besmirched her poodle-white curls.
Mariah blows the stars around
And sends the clouds a flyin’
Mariah makes the mountains sound
Like folks were up there dyin’
Tay’s legs dangled straight into the sun. God had punched a hole in the ozone and was vacuuming up the dirt.
Zac and Ike held on for dear life, pressing their faces to the metal. Their torsos flapped at the base of the pole. All their equipment flew into the sky. Ike’s guitar struck Tay and dislodged him. Tay skid to the aluminum gold eagle and, at the last instant, caught hold of the flag. It was ripping fast. It wasn’t fair. No time to think, reflect on the full life being ripped from him. Rip, rip.
Tay thrust out his hand. *Help.* His brothers reached with miens of terror, but they refused to shin up the flagpole. They were letting him go. He squinted and prayed.
So hold on to the ones that really care
'Cause in the end they'll be the only ones there
He opened his eyes to shredding cloth. The flag slipped from his fingers. Zac and Ike shrank away. The tops of the buildings shrank around them. Then the business district. The metropolitan area became a microcosm, glittering with a touch of Midas. As far as the eye could see, natural Earth reigned.
In an mmmbop they're gone
His ascent slowed, slow, weight, less. Surrounded by sky and mist, he felt the absolute cessation of all triviality in the world. In two seconds, his stomach caught up; it tickled. He drew an open palm to his helium lips and snorted through his finger and thumb.
Livin’ large.
***
Mariah
Mariah
They call the wind Mariah
Before I knew Mariah’s name
And heard her wail and whinin’
I had a girl
And she had me
And the sun was always shinin’
She saw gunpowder, a sizzle and a flash. She stooped forward, blinking rapidly. And the pain in the back of Bunny’s skull? Instant pleasure.
The firmament whistled. Her hair kept whipping her face and sticking. She tied it into pony tail. Clumps of hair showed up in her hand. Something had struck her—looksie, a microphone. She lifted it by the cord. It felt slippery, slippery between her fingers.
Imagine that. Wet hair. A microphone. Slippery. Imagine that.
She felt giddy.
But then one day I left my girl
I left her far behind me
And now I’m lost
So goldern lost
Not even God can find me
Looksie over there!
An ocean of skyscrapers spit foam. Confetti—but they weren’t confetti; they were cars and people and cans of trash—shot into the air and fell. Metal and dust weltered among the city blocks. The roof quaked under Bunny’s toes, to her delight. She hopped in place and clapped her hands: awe, excitement, happy New Year.
A shadow fell. A total eclipse of the sun.
Out here they’ve got a name for rain
For wind and fire only
But when you’re lost and all alone
There ain’t no word but lonely
The scrolling marquee above the 1500 block shopping center changed from “…ALL…YOUR…FRIENDS…ARE…ON…AOL…” to “…LONELY....”
The television on display in the window at Tech Wit flashed “Lonely,” while a dumpster rolled down the middle of the street. “City Garbage” was no longer stenciled on its plastic lid. And the graffiti changed: the Crips and the Bloods finally agreed on one thing, that they were oh so lonely.
A newspaper slapped a woman in the face as she ran from the sucking winds. She removed it, and the headline read, “Lonely,” as did every word to follow.
A Union 76 gasoline truck floated down the street, its gears grinding the cry of a preying pterodactyl. A child ran from it. The boy screamed for help, but out of his mouth came
And I’m a lost and lonely man
Without a star to guide me
Mariah blow my love to me
I need my girl beside me
***
Shucks. The storm must have scared the angels away. They’d got all quiet up there under that poopy-dark sky. She repeated their lyrics to herself, trying to get them right, because they were totally written for her. Totally.
Now he wanted her back within in his arms back in the past
Alas!
He’d stepped up and to the side, just like she’d asked
That’s it! The melody too, she’d done it. Why had it been so hard to remember a minute ago? She felt around for the itchy clump of hair on the back of her head, stuck her finger in it, and scratched. Maybe the angels couldn’t hear her down here. She’d still honor them with a lovely song she made up—except she heard it on the radio. So what? Angels don’t know no better.
Oh, those stupid people! How was a girl supposed to sing over all the honking and screaming? To hell with ‘em. She stepped up on the ledge and took a dizzy breath. Spreading her arms, she balanced and sang, “I will fly away…”
A great wind hurdled from the street, embraced her; she squealed. Into the air she went.
Mariah
Mariah
Blow my love to me
Sam finished his song with both arms out, begging Mariah to intervene, to give his dreams another chance, all the while knowing she wouldn’t, she couldn’t.
Whump, she did!
Sam was on his ass. A girl struggled in his lap, her brown eyes blinking. She was barefoot. Blood dripped off her fingers, down her ear, her neck, and her complexion burned white.
“Oh my god,” she said. “Oh my god.”
“Oh lordy,” Sam said. “Lordy, lordy, lordy.”
“I can’t believe…oh my god. How?”
“I don’t know,” he said, shifting her weight. “Bunny is it you?” She’d put on some pounds since he last held her.
“Sam? Sam? Sam, you caught me.” She began petting his face and kissing his eyes. “My angel, my angel.”
He shrugged her off. He said, “I’m sorry.” The only words he could think to say. “I’m sorry for giving up.” They just popped out of his mouth.
“Giving up?” she said. She slumped happily. Then she checked her bones for fractures. “Hoo. That ride was rough on my stomach. Hey, are we dead?”
This was divine intervention, a second chance. He had to express what he’d been too flabbergasted to tell her yesterday. “Because I’ve been here,” he said, “in this city. All along. I gave up looking.”
She glanced around. “I’m on another roof, aren’t I?”
“I feel so bad. I followed you to LA, but I couldn’t find you.”
She glanced around a second time. “You more than found me.”
“But I shouldn’t have stopped looking in the first place, Bunny. I wanted to beat your brains out, isn’t that horrible?” Killroy’s face nipped the edge of his conscious mind. “Or worse.”
“Don’t be sorry, Sam. Me and Bill, we gave you every reason to hate us.” She kissed him quickly. “Have you seen my shoes?”
“This is how it happened,” he said. “Please listen. When I first started my search, I had to find a base of operations. Then I met Kimmie.”
“Who’s Kimmie?”
“And Al and Jade and Victor Tek and.” Sam realized he’d been waving his hands. He closed his eyes. “And-And I have a roommate. Her name is Reah. And a job. Shoot, but none of that matters. The point is, I stopped visiting and made a life for myself. I live here now.”
“Sam, look at me. Who is this Reah? A girl?”
“And you won’t believe how easy it is to get sidetracked here in Alhambra.”
“Alhambra. Alhambra? How the fuck did I get out in Alhambra?”
“Don’t swear, dear.”
“Sorry, honey,” she said, playing the dutiful wife. “Look, whatever you’re trying to tell me, it doesn’t matter. We’re back in each other’s arms. And once we find my socks, we’re going to be so happy together.”
“No, darn it, listen. I gave up, I stopped hating you. It stopped mattering. You see?”
The currents of wind died around them. Sam’s hair settled over his eyes. “I think I’m just beginning to understand it myself,” he said. “Gosh.”
She nudged his face and gazed into his eyes. “Go on,” she said. “I’m listening. You stopped hating me. So far, I like this story.”
“I wanted you back. I really did. Just a few minutes ago, I thought that.”
“You thought right. Here I am. Fate is telling us something.”
“You’re not hearing me.”
“I’m sorry, Sam. Tell me everything.” She pulled his head into her breasts, causing him thoughts of Mother Mariah. Oh, Mother! “What’s the matter, baby?”
“Bunny?” he said. “I think I’ve stopped caring about you.”
Ooo
“What?”
“I tried to care. But it was just a habit. I see that now. Seeing you again has cured me.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“Come on,” he said. “We should really get you to a doctor.”
Enter guitar riff.
Oh-ooo
Hope Street—calm, windless, sunny again, wrappers and debris. A nine-car pileup outside McDonald’s. Arms, legs, a neck or two or twenty—all smashed within. Distant sirens. Words other than “lonely.”
Oh-ooo
In later news, dental records would prove the disaster’s most noteworthy victim was Jordan Taylor Hanson, lead singer of Hanson. His fans often declared him “the quiet one.” He was Pisces, aged 23-years. He liked computers and classic literature. He was left-handed, and his hidden talent was cartooning. His turn-ons included girls who didn’t hyperventilate while talking to him. None of this mattered, not since he decided to make a cement angel outside Hot Topic. Some guys just can’t wait for snowy weather. Show off. Add twenty million crushed hearts worldwide to his injuries, and close the book on Tay’s legacy.
Oh
The Anglewing butterfly found its next perch, a Chrysler Voyager. It waited there. The car teetered rhythmically on top of thirteen feet of wreckage. Its stereo was the only survivor.
Yeah
You have so many relationships in this life
Only one or two will last
You go through all the pain and strife
Then you turn your back and they're gone so fast
Oh, yeah.
They’re gone so fast.
So hold on to the ones that really care
'Cause in the end they'll be the only ones there
And when you get old and start losing your hair
Can you tell me who will still care?
Mmmbop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du
Yeah
This has been a quasi-musical by Sid Siclid.
Mmmbop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du
Yeah
“MmmBop” by Hanson.
Plant a seed, plant a flower, plant a rose
You can plant any one of those
Keep planting to find out which one grows
It's a secret no one knows
Mmmbop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du
Yeah
“They Call the Wind Mariah” by Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe.
Mmmbop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du
Yeah.
In an mmmbop they're gone
In an mmmbop they're gone. In an mmmbop they're not there
Until you lose your hair. But you don't care
Mmmbop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du
“Sam’s Song,” by Sid Siclid, inspired by the music of the Pogues.
Mmmbop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du
Can you tell me
No you can't 'cause you don't know
Can you tell me
You say you can but you don't know
Can you tell me which flower's going to grow
No you can't 'cause you don't know
Can you tell me if it's going to be a daisy or a rose
You say you can but you don't know
Don't know oh
You don't know oh
Mmmbop
Duba dop
Duba bop
Du
Written entirely on location at Late Night Games.
Mmmbop
Duba dop
Duba bop
Du
Music available on the unofficial MP3 soundtrack.
Mmmbop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du
No Hanson songs were enjoyed during the writing of this post.
Mmmbop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du
The End.
© 2002 Sid Siclid and Late Night Games.
Yeah.
[Editor’s Synopsis: The Idea manipulates Sam, Bunny, Hanson, and the LA business district into performing a musical version of A Street Hope Re-Named Disaster.]
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Sunday, 21st August 2005 – 4:30pm
Tash put the training sword on the table, grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from her face. She watched as Sorrow upended one of the water bottles. She felt she’d kept up a little better this time and let a small smile curl her lip. She’d never be as good as Sorrow with the sword, though.
He lowered his head after emptying the bottle and noticed Tash regarding him thoughtfully. "So where do you think Jem'll be hiding? I doubt she'll have stayed at the cemetery we checked out."
"You know," Tash replied after gulping some water of her own, "I doubt it, too. Maybe we'd be better off tonight if we split up. Cover more territory."
He frowned momentarily. This would be so much easier if he had 'heard' Jem - he hadn't though, and he wasn't sure he felt up to searching that much dissonance for a particular vampire. "You might be right, though keep in touch. Don't start the party without me."
Tash grinned, "Wouldn't dream of it. Hmm, leave your phone on silent ring tonight in case either of us finds Jem."
As Tash took another mouthful of water her glance rested on a pair of stakes on the table. Her eyes narrowed, "I don't suppose you've had a chance to find out anything about that stake of Sam's yet?"
Sorrow glanced away "No, I've been busy. Haven't had chance to get over to my apartment and check it out more thoroughly. Zhì-mìng-de Shù is old and powerful though, and it was made for a purpose." *I'm just not sure what that purpose is...*
Sorrow looked back to Tash. "I don't think it'll harm him, not directly at any rate."
"Hmm, not great news, but not terrible either. I know you've got a lot on your plate, what with helping Jade with XY and this whole Xavier business." Tash bit her lip. She had so many favours she wanted to ask of Sorrow, she didn't know where to begin.
"Uh, and there's something else. When you do manage to find time to look up Zhì-whatever, maybe you could add a couple of other things to your search?" Tash looked up at Sorrow hopefully and apologetically.
"Such as?"
She took a deep breath. Sorrow wasn't going to make this easy for her. *Oh, well, jump in the deep end, woman. You always do anyway.*
"Well, Victor remembered something after he'd healed from the head wound he got. And it all ties back to Sam and that stake," Tash explained. "A guy called Hesch apparently gave the stake to Sam. Don't know why. But Victor thinks a vengeance demon is linked in with it all. And some woman called Kimmie who he says isn't human. Not sure what, but not human - not vampire, either. She's hanging around After Dark. And someone or something else is tied up in it - called Bunny."
Tash shook her head. "Sorry, it's all a jumble and I'm sure we're missing pieces, but maybe some of those names will come up in your files..."
"Hesch, Kimmie, Bunny and an unnamed Vengeance Demon. You really don't want to get involved with Vengeance Demons, Tash, especially if wishes are being bandied about." *Wow, I think I just got turned into research guy!*
“I'll look; don't think much'll turn up. A lot of the named beings in our files are dead." Sorrow shrugged, "You got anything more on any of them? Names are very easy to change. Anything mystical?"
Tash frowned, trying to recall the conversation she'd had with Victor the other night. "Hmm, not much. Just that the vengeance demon is masquerading as a waitress in the Denny's near here. I'm not ready to go there yet for more information. Demons aren't really my area of expertise. Vampires are my thing." Tash smiled tightly. "But there might be something in your files... it's worth a look anyway."
She bit her lip for a second, contemplating the next request. "And there's one other thing, too. Do you remember Galen, the government agent guy?"
"Vaguely, we found him at Serapis' place didn't we?" Tash suddenly felt Sorrow's shields tighten.
She winced slightly. She knew what that was about. She reached out a gloved hand, but drew it back before making contact. "It wasn't really you, just remember that," she said softly.
There was a moment's awkward silence then Tash continued, all business. "Well, while you were off taking care of that not-you bit, Galen and Kate have grown pretty close. Kate's besotted with him, actually. And he seems to feel the same. And he's helped us out - me especially. But I keep getting the feeling that there's way more going on with him than he's telling anyone. Even Kate."
Tash perched herself on the edge of the table before getting to the point. "The thing is, I found him the other night while I was out hunting. He was dropped off by a black helicopter, like in all those conspiracy movies. We had a little... chat. He's not shielded at all, and he had strong thoughts about his organisation. I was hoping Ulle might have something on them. The name's Majestic. And, uh," Tash decided to press on, "he also was thinking about experiments involving vampires and demons."
Tash paused significantly. "And humans."
"Majestic... Majestic... I don't know much more than what you can infer from what you've already found out. " Sorrow began to pace. "It's supposedly a US Government agency operating in the occult world. Sort of like the 'Ministry of the Occult' in Britain."
He stopped and turned back to the table. "There are a couple of kooks in the society who love this sort of thing. I'll ask some questions - maybe I can find some more out."
“Thanks," Tash smiled broadly. "I'm sorry to dump all this on you, but I've never had to worry too much about finding things out before. For me it's just been sense vampires, track vampires, dust vampires." She rolled her eyes theatrically, "Ah, for the simple life again!"
"Simple life? We don't have simple lives. From the moment we found out, our lives stopped being simple. " Sorrow smiled a little, "I'll check everything out and see what I can find, but this talking isn't sharpening our skills. You ready to get your butt kicked?"
"Put those swords away and we'll see whose butt gets kicked," Tash winked.
She hopped off the table and returned to the centre of the room, Sorrow following close behind. She turned to face him and adopted a ready stance. "And thanks," she said, "I really do appreciate your help."
Sorrow threw a fast punch and smiled, "Don't mention it."
An E-mail To Kate
Sunday, 21 August 2005 - About 10am
Jade frowned down at the laptop she kept in XY as she read through the email she'd just finished.
*Well... that's as good as it's going to get.* Sighing, Jade clicked on the SEND button. She'd debated about calling Kate directly but; unsure if Kate would speak to her, had decided to take a less direct route to contacting her friend. Jade huffed out a breath... She expected some form of resistance and hostility - nobody had forgotten the role Tris had played in what happened to Luc and Innana - but prayed that the last few months had given Kate some time to heal.
Feeling lighter at heart now that she'd taken the first step into re-establishing contact with Kate, Jade decided to take a short stroll and get herself a nice, foamy, low-fat latte with a shot of hazelnut syrup. She dropped a call to Sorrow before heading out but received no answer on his mobile. Since he had still been asleep when she had left for XY, Jade wasn't too sure what plans he had today, besides the hunt he had planned with Tash for Jem and her cronies tonight.
Jade frowned. The uneasiness she felt refused to diminish and the way that Sorrow had brushed it off when they had spoken about it before bed had both irked and worried her. She wished he would just focus his energies and attention on ridding them of Xavier's presence in L.A without getting the whole Society of Ulle on their backs. *I've had enough of rogue hunters and fanatics chasing me through parks... Tris and I are definitely going to talk about this tonight.* Her face set, Jade snapped XY's door shut.
Fashionably late
***Saturday 20th August, 2005…9:00pm***
Reah locked the heavy doors of the Armoury behind her before slowly turning around and slumping against them, sliding down it till she thudded to the ground, legs sprawled in a heap on the steps.
Heaving a sigh of exhaustion and stress Reah knocked her head back against the doors and gazed up at the scungy roof of the alcove and gathered her thoughts.
*Owner of the Armoury! The god damn Armoury! And its account! Bloody hell!* She shook her head against the metal of the doors, hearing the sound of her hair crunch lightly under the pressure. *I actually signed those forms! I really am an idiot.* She figured she must have been sitting there for nearly a whole half hour before she even changed positions allowing blood to flow to her frozen flat ass on the concrete slab.
Eventually she resolved to get on her damned way home. Sam would most likely worry about where she was… or doing. If there was one thing she hated, it was not knowing. She could only assume it’d be the same for Sam. She’d go home, leave him a note, then slip back out. No fuss.
She set a brisk pace, eager to get back and out hunting as soon as possible…*Although I could really use a drink!* That reminded her. "Party! What day is it? I think Tash said Saturday…" She closed her eyes and thought, *I ran into her while I was moving stuff onnn…Thursday! Two days ago. Yeah, today’s Saturday.* She smiled. It had been a while since she’d been invited to a real party.
She decided she wanted the drinking more. Maybe if she was lucky she’d run into a vampire to dust on the way there. *Two birds, one stone!* she thought cheerfully. First she had to get home. She still wouldn’t leave Sam without a note even if she wasn’t hunting he’d probably think she was, plus if he was there he might want to join her! She could get some drink into him. She grinned deviously. She was determined to get Sam drunk one day on something other than cranberry juice. *Innocent people bring it upon themselves! They make people like me want to get them drunk.*
Quickening her pace, eager to get ready to go out for a night on the town. *For the first time in LA!* she thought, dazed as she realised her recent slack behaviour in going out for nightly clubbing piss gigs… without the housework, dusting the city free of its pests.
About half an hour later, a little after ten, Reah jogged up the steps to the second floor, room 211.
Unlocking the door she entered the room effortlessly, one of life’s small pleasantries that she still appreciated, and headed purposefully toward her bedroom.
"Sam?" She listened for a reply…. Nothing.
Silently and swiftly she tiptoed over to his bedroom door, carefully rested her hand on the knob, held her breath, then slowly pushed it open and peered inside. Her gaze darted about the room before adjusting to the light abandoned interior and she spotted his still, peaceful figure on the bed. *Hmph. Glad one of us can sleep easy.* She shook her head with a tired, friendly smile. "Night!" she whispered before slowly backing out.
She closed the door carefully with barely a click, then turned about and paused for a moment, blowing the loose threads of hair out of her face before instantly darting off to her room, decorating it with the assortment of clothes she spewed out of her suitcase until she found a slim little denim, pleated skirt that looked appealing for the moment, and slipped off her pants and top then pulled on the skirt before continuing to dance about the array of clothes spread about her floor and bed till she picked out a red, spaghetti strap singlet top that hugged her body and threw on a lingering black jacket and stomped back into her boots. Quickly trowing up her hair she grabbed her keys and darted back out leaving a quick note for Sam on the McDonalds fry box from her previous nights dinner.
Striding quickly after having roamed the streets forever trying to find the damn place only to discover it wasn’t far down the same street as Bob’s, Reah pulled her mobile out of the slight pocket inside her jacket, (just not quite big enough for a stake, but seemed perfect for the phone) she checked the time. "Shit!" *10:57!* She recovered herself over the shock of the time and shrugged smugly. *Oh well. Nothing wrong with being fashionably late!* She grinned slyly and broke into a quick jog. *Why I didn’t take my bike I don’t know!*
Her jog slowed and faltered slightly as she approached the deserted and rather trashed shop front. "O…kay. Must be out back or somethin'." Pretty sure she had the right place she ventured inside frowning at all the debris scattered about the floor. *Well… there was definitely something that happened tonight…. Major party crashers?*
"Can I help ya miss?"
Reah looked up from scanning the floor she was carefully treading, crushing the remains of a glass in the process, and was greeted by a solid, friendly looking black man grasping a broom. "Umm, yeah. Is there a party here or something?" She looked confusedly at him. "I was told by a friend, Tash, that there’d be a party here and I was welcome."
A clatter of glass across the room made her aware of another man near a bar clearing up a smashed Jack Daniels bottle. She winced, *What a waste! Hope it was worth the smashin'!*
"Was," he replied slowly. "Some gang came 'n' crashed it though." He glanced around the room and looked at the other man by the bar for a moment before turning back. "Everyone’s gone ‘ome." He shrugged uncomfortably.
Reah scanned the room again, noting the numerous piles of ash that seemed to decorate the place ever so creatively. "Hm. Yes. Gangs," she muttered levelly. "Thanks anyway," she added before turning to leave quite disappointed and annoyed.
"Say," she started again, spinning back on her heel. "You wouldn’t happen to know of any local clubs that are good would ya?"
He paused and looked up from resuming his sweeping in thought. "Ah…there’s some place called Asylum. Don' know where ’dis though exactly." He shrugged.
Reah sighed. "K. Thanks." She made a slight inclination of her hand in resemblance of a wave, then turned about again and left.
She had eventually found a group of people heading to the same place while wandering the streets and joined up with the group; Jay, Natalia, Simon, and Hayden.
She was slightly uncomfortable at first, being out of the social swing of late, but eventually relaxed in with the group for her night out.
***Sunday 21st August, 2005…around 9ish…something…. Stupid clock, brain not work, too early, work late! No…bugger it, arg, sleep need***
Reah really hadn’t been that bothered about drinking all that much.
She felt weird waking up without a headache after going out. Still, she rolled lazily over on her bed, *Mmm, so comfy.* She smiled wearily, eyes slowly shutting in a Mexican wave before fighting themselves open again, much in the same rolling manner. "Mmm. I’m a toasty little bun in an oven!" she mumbled, cuddling her doona about her.
Rolling her head back in the opposite direction with a crick in her neck, she stared at the clock again and allowed her eyes and mind to focus. *Hmm, nine forty-six.* She groaned lightly and pouted. "Bugger it. Me own damn store now. We no be longer open on Sunnideeeeees." She smiled childishly, pleased with her first cutting edge business decision. "Hmhm…" She chuckled into the pillow. "Day off! Yaaiy!"
An hour later, or around about, Reah pulled herself out of bed and with bare feet slapping on the floor made her way to the bathroom for her wake up shower.
Warm needles pierced through her clammy skin and ran over her face as she methodically rolled her head under the water's caress as carefree thoughts ran through her head. *Hmm…no stupid work, no stupid Joe…. His problems are his problems, he can deal on his damn well own.* Reah reached up to the nozzle on the shower, turning it to change the pressure until it shot out in a single solid burst hitting the knots in her back. "OOohmMMmm!" Reah moaned under the water's massaging force. *And no stupid Darling sitting behind me, and…* Her eyes shot open, the pelting water now hitting a stone frozen, unfeeling body. "SHIT!"
She had to feed Darling.
Despite all her hate for the damn creature, she was still asked to look after the damn thing. *She can have the bloody left over chicken in the freezer. If she dies I can just say I didn't realise that chicken defrosted in my bag would kill her.*
Moaning with great annoyance, Reah forcefully turned the taps for the shower off, bringing a sudden unwelcome halt to the relaxing beam, then pushed out and reached for a towel on the rack… finding nothing. Leaning around the edge of the shower she then realised the lack of a towel she was meant to bring in. *Bugger. I hate wearing my clothes when I’m not dry.* She scanned around the rest of the bathroom…"Where’s my pj’s?" She questioned herself wondrously before coming to an unwanted realisation. *Oh fantastic!*
Slipping on the underwear she thankfully had not stripped off when going to bed, but were immediately sodden by the thin layer of beaded water that still covered her, she grasped the door handle, ducked her head and braced herself. *I didn’t see Sam when I walked out to go to the shower. But then again I also didn’t notice that I was stark naked!* She gritted her teeth mouthing silent curses to herself.
Slowly she breathed. Relaxed her legs readying them. Sl-ow-ly be-gan tur-ning the knob...a hearts beat pause...then bolted for her room! Wet feet madly slapping the polished planks, slipping, sliding, dripping, trying not to fall till she finally reached her door and slapped into it with her right hand to stop herself then fumbled and faltered with the handle door while she struggled to cover and contain herself with her left arm, till finally breaking through and slamming the door behind her with the full force of her body.
Panting and gasping for breath she tried to calm her racing heart. She didn’t know if Sam had seen her, or if he was even there. She prayed that he wasn’t, but if he had been she had bets on that he spotted her mad panic.
Her breathing slowed as she slumped against the door and slid down, making a dull thud as she hit the ground. *Bugger me!*
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
***** Sunday night *****
Alice was sitting one her bed pouting. “This hotel room sucks.” *The bed is hard and the TV is broke.* "I have money; I really need to stay in a better place. Oh, what money?” Alice pulled out her cell phone.
"Hey, Anonio...Salute...Yah I did the job in LA.... Sure the same account. Listen, you got anything in my in-box? ... No? Grazi. I'm taking a little time here in LA. Enjoying the sun and the surf. Capice? Ciao."
Alice hung up the phone. Waited a moment, then pressed auto dial 9.
"Senor Hernandez. Pleasure to talk to you again.... Si, I am in LA. ...Sure love to have drinks sometime, only no more shots of Tequila...I don’t want to end up with Sal again. His momma nearly had a heart attack last time. Listen, whattaya know about a human gangster-type named Paul who works the warehouse district?"
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
“Cut to the Paper Chase"
Special Guest Star: Steve Buscemi as Wit Dewitt
Sunday 21, 2005. 3:16 AM.
SCREE.
He reached up, groped around, and turned the cab light on. He heard screeching in his mind. Aching in his hips, arms, and head, he peeled his eyes open. A cloud of milky-blackness hugged the windows. It felt as though his Volkswagen Bug were adrift at sea. The cab rocked diagonally, back, forward, back. He sat up in the chair and secured his seat belt; and Brinkley, who was already awake, did the same. Something hard was pressing into his headrest. He turned around in the driver’s seat. A thick, white rod had pierced the vehicle up the center. “Not what I expected to see first thing in the morning,” he said. Brinkley nodded, nodded, and nodded.
The radio displayed a green “SUN 21 AUG 3:16 AM.” Last he remembered, they were driving downtown trying to find the address for the LA branch of Island Records. Next he remembered, this very minute. They must have been unconscious for over twelve hours.
Brinkley rolled down her window. “I’m going to find out where we are,” she said, and she stuck her head out.
Ra caught himself in the mirror: tan neck, pink eyes, red complexion, forehead purple in spots, and a black nose, broken and bandaged. His sister had inadvertently broken his nose on Friday during her struggle with Kevin the Hansonite. His bruised head, however….
“Lots of stars out tonight,” Brinkley said. But then she looked down. She peeped.
Ra shut off the light. The view of the sky changed from black to blue. He couldn’t see what had frightened her. He couldn’t locate the horizon, either. Brinkley rolled up the window. “Guess that is that.”
“What did you see?” Ra said. “Ocean? We’re floating, aren’t we? Like in The Love Bug.”
“No such luck,” she said.
Brinkley scanned the stations for a news program and found six. They were all discussing a preternatural disaster that winnowed the business district “today”—which was "yesterday," as of midnight. They were calling yesterday’s news “the Hope Street Disaster of ’05.” By the looks things, the VW Bug numbered among its victims.
“Let’s recap,” Ra said. He fought to keep his mellow mellow, not yellow. “We’re driving along yesterday, cool as beans. A big California wind picks us up. We wake with lumps on our heads and find ourselves—my car—impaled on a flagpole that’s sticking out of a very, very tall building." His hands became fists. "Any ideas on how to get down, sis?”
“Nope. You, brother dear?”
“Just one, I’m afraid.”
A hideous screech filled the cab of the car. It was the very sound that roused them in the first place. The flagpole was beginning to fold: scree.
“Make that two,” he said, grabbing the steering wheel and locking his elbows. “We can either pray for a miracle or we can die without trying. Lady’s choice.”
“I choose door number three.”
The car woke with spasms, bouncing them up and down. The flagpole throbbed as the weight of the Bug ground down and around its shaft. “On the b-b-bright side,” Ra said, his voice rocking with the turbulence. “Beh been a long tie time since we kill illed off our bod-d-d-dees.” The last time he sounded like this, he’d been using a coin-operated massager at the mall. He was once again in a vibrating chair. Was rattled. Terrified, in fact.
“Oh whuh,” Brinkley said, “I’m mum sure you’re ree lee love ving this. This me means you get to get a new iden tit tee. Con gratch yoo lay shunz.”
“Give me some creh dit Brink lee.”
“I on the uh thur hand still ree mem burr the pay ane Ra. Die ing hurts. La La Lots.”
As they sank toward the subbase of the long pole, it stooped. The Bug’s weight shifted into the dashboard, and over the hood of the car appeared block after block of roofs and windows, and one scary yellow moon. Their seatbelts became instant heroes.
The vibration stopped, leaving Ra’s eye sockets tingly, his tummy ticklish, and his lips numb. “This is no McDonald’s Happy Meal for me, you know. I much prefer choosing the body I end up hopping into. Who knows who I’m going to get stuck with when I hit the pavement? I might end up inside Justin Timberlake. And you…you could end up a government employee.”
“Scree,” said the gruesome noise of car frame versus flagpole. They could see the aura of the streetlamps, now, and a stoplight changing from yellow to red. Scree.
“Oh-whoa,” Brinkley cried. She stomped the floorboard as if it were a break pedal. “Please, God, I don’t want to become one of those fat ladies who drives around in her police cart leaving parking tickets under people’s windshield wipe...ers-when-they…” She shuddered her last three syllables, then inhaled. “Forget to feed the meter.”
Scree-ee.
The extra “ee” told Ra that indefinite seconds remained before the flagpole bent at such an angle that the Bug slid off the pointy end. “I suppose my only wish is that I don’t body-hop into someone really lame,” he said. “Like that Hansonite girl I sucked last week.”
“Whah? Who? Her? The girl with the accent?”
“Right, the accent.” Ra saw no need for his sun visor to be extended at night. He flipped it up. He hoped Brinkley didn’t notice his trembling fingers. “I’m sort of off my British kick. If you think about it, it was kind of foolish.” But that wasn’t all he’d gotten from the girl. “I’m still trying to get ‘Mmmbop’ out of my head. When, in this life or the next, I land a job with Hanson, I-I think I’ll establish an interdiction against that song.”
Scre-runk!
The car rattled violently…into a state of utter stillness.
“Ra?”
“Yes?” he said.
“Is ‘runk’ a bad sound or a really, really bad sound? I think it’s a really, really bad sound.”
It was the sound of an impending tipple. Their car was no longer sinking around the shaft; it was being dumped.
“Remind me,” he said. “When we get our new bodies, we have to find out who caused this catastrophe. The Dread Idea most definitely played a part.” The moisture in the air tasted like armpit and mango.
“You pick this of all times to adopt a work ethic?”
“What can I say? Dissonant conduct is what I do best.”
Runk-runk-scree-scree.
“Oh, man, my stomach,” Brinkley said, staring straight forward at the road, staring through a tunnel of her own dark hair. “This is gonna hurt worse than a paper cut.”
“We could opt for that miracle solution we talked about. You know, as an alternative to dying.”
“Our job is to squelch major miracles, not promote them.”
“Suit yourself. It was just a thought.”
Brinkley was reputable, but in times of crisis she’d been known to take a leap or two into hypocrisy, which pleased him to no end. “Don’t you think,” she said, “after millions of years working together, we could get ourselves into just one jam that doesn’t require us to feed Scylla in order to starve Charybdis?” She ran out of breath, her thumb in Ra’s face.
“Tell you what,” he said, moving her arm aside, “I’ll take responsibility for the miracle. I won’t even mention your name. That will leave us with just one problem: thinking up a big idea to get us out of this.”
“Ra, don’t. We’re Keepers. Miracles are God’s sin, not ours. We can’t—” Scree! “Okay, I changed my mind, yes we can, do it, sin me, baby, sin me.”
“If you’d only let me.”
Scree-runk-runk-runk-runk.
“Hurry and pray for us,” she said, “before I get sick.”
“It’s hard to concentrate between all that metal grinding and your groaning.”
“Got an idea yet?”
“In the last half-second?”
“Are you at least trying to hurry? Because that’d be terrific.”
“Shh.”
“Here’s one: maybe a rescue plane could pick us up.”
“Ridiculous,” he said. “A plane can’t catch a falling Volkswagen. That’s Superman’s job.”
“So pray for Superman.”
Poor Brinkley. One didn’t simply pray for Superman to appear. It had been too long for her; her human brain forgot how the praying process worked. Ra demonstrated by closing his eyes. He let the seatbelt hold him, clasped both hands piously over the strap. After a second, he said, “Got one.”
“What-what, what’s the idea?”
“We’re going to let the car fall.”
“Yuh-huh. And Superman saves us, right?”
“No. But before we hit the ground…”
“Yuh-huh.”
“With all our might we—”
“’With all our might we,’ yuh-huh.”
“Hop up in our seats…”
“Yuh?”
“Wherewithal we will counteract our downward momentum.”
Brinkley was speechless.
“Don’t think it will work?” he asked. “It works in elevators.”
Scree-ee-runk-runk-scree-ee-runks-sss-sss.
The tip of the flagpole slipped through the roof by Brinkley’s head. It twanged inside the cab and left a puncture the size of a tea saucer. It dragged a cloth of red, white, and blue inside. Slowly the twisted pole worked its away through the floor, and she shrieked, for soon it would be gone. The Bug slumped. End of the line.
The tattered American flag was pulled off her shoulder as quickly as it landed there. The three final, tapered feet of the pole, bent like a clothes hanger, descended. Its cap, a mangled gold eagle, fell past Ra’s nose and hit the vent where the windshield met the dash. A chip appeared in the glass.
The Bug jolted, halted. The back seat had collided with the hook, and, for untold moments, certain death stood beside itself with envy. “New plan,” Ra shouted. He offered his hand to Brinkley, but she was quite busy carping through her fingers. “Something a little less…improbable.”
“Hurry, I’m listening,” she said.
“I was late picking you up yesterday, right?”
“Right.”
“If we’d left Denny’s earlier, we’d have driven out of the downtown area before the storm—”
“Hurr-ree…”
“Hit Hope Street. Right?”
“Go on, go on.”
“So what if we just say I got to Denny’s earlier?”
“But you’re never early,” she said.
“Just pretend.”
Rip-runk.
“Okay, I’m pretending, here we go, I’m pretending. Ra’s reliable, Ra’s reliable, I think therefore he is….”
Rip-runk-rip-runk. Ru-u-unk.
Ru-unsss-sss-sss….
Under the shifting gravity, strands of Ra’s blond hair lifted and touched down on the quilted sun visor. “What if?” he muttered. “Amen.”
SSScretunk-twang-whoosh!
THE UPSHOT.
Meanwhile—yesterday, supposedly—at the friendly neighborhood Denny’s…
“Shiver me timbers,” Brinkley said. “You’re early. It’s a miracle.”
My she looked doable, today, in her blue denim jacket, band T-shirt, and bra-lessness. Cold nipples did a lot for a girl.
“Can’t a guy be early if he wants?” he asked.
“Sure, but keep it up and I’ll have to suck your brain.”
Smiling, Ra sat in the booth. It was hard not to kiss her hello. She would consider such an act inappropriate. Funny how something can be so right for so many millions of years, but then, simply over a cup of Bibliophile coffee, become so goddamn taboo. “So what happened with you and Kevin yesterday?”
“He had to run,” she said.
“And you let him?”
She puckered her frowning lips and gave a short nod. “He was clean.”
“So, you’ve got your new clothes on.”
“Aren’t they terrible? But work is work. Have to look the part.” She fingered the colorful decal on her chest featuring all three Hanson boys. She’d even pinned herself with an “I Like Ike” button.
“What about your ring?”
His sister guiltily turned the Maltese Cross around her marriage finger. She scanned the appetizer page of the menu. “I’ll wear it,” she said. “To remind me of better times. And a girl never knows when she’ll have to punch somebody.”
“And your hair?”
“I’m keeping the green strands—oh look: seasoned fries. Yum.” She laid the menu on the edge of the table. “Ike’s hair is totally green this year. It’s his favorite color.”
“Stop it. You’re scaring me.”
The waitress showed up.
“Hi, Sue,” Brinkley said. “I’ll take a—”
“She’ll take nothing,” Ra said.
“But I’m hungry.”
“We need to be going.”
“But my lunch.”
Ra took her hand. “Please trust me. My angel senses are telling me we need to be going. We need to beat the traffic.”
“I don’t always trust your angel senses. The English accent give you a clue?”
“I’m not talking that way now, am I? Listen, I think we’re rewriting history. Which tells me that, in the future, I prayed for a miracle. Which tells me we better do as I say and leave. Now.”
“Be reasonable. You’d never risk working another miracle after the last mistake. What makes you think you’d—”
“I was early to pick you up, wasn’t I?”
Brinkley stared into his eyes. She could see his point; he could see that she saw. She handed the menu to Sue and said, “I’ll take my coffee to go.”
FRENCH FRIES.
It could have happened that way. In fact, given a little longer believing it, it absolutely did happen that way. As truly as the Bug was currently nose-diving toward the sidewalk, the flagpole incident lay in the past. They’d lived two realities that would grow inextricably into one. In the frame of his rearview mirror, he saw hundreds of windows zipping from bottom to top, like the cells on a reel of film. Thirty windows a second became one window.
He and Brinkley were much calmer now.
“Now that we’ve established that we left Denny’s early,” he said, “we can forget about the flagpole. Just make sure you really do forget about it this time. I can’t handle another flashback.” The incident he was thinking about spawned the 60’s peace movement. He hadn’t tried another major miracle since. Lesson: be careful what you wish for and, if your wish is granted, believe in it implicitly. Don’t forget. Otherwise, you might suffer a decade of brotherly love.
Fortunately, his flagpole prayer had been answered. He hadn’t been sure if he could pull it off, but now that he did, it was pure skill. Of course. If he had faltered just once during his chant to God, the consequences would have been…unpleasant. Perhaps worse than the 60’s. Perhaps they’d rewrite the 80’s. One’s chances were better if one stuck one’s head in the maw of an alligator than if one tried to recreate Ra’s miracle. Ra was a professional, one of a kind, and barring any untimely flashbacks, he and Brinkley were in the clear. Success gave him the confidence to formulate a second prayer. What could he say? He was feeling cocky.
“Hey, Brink, seeing as we’re already messing with reality, I’d like to add something.”
“Don’t press your luck.”
“’God doesn’t play dice with the universe.’ This is merely an addendum. We both know I’m going to get the job as Hanson’s manager. Ultimately. So what if we go ahead and say that, by the time we reach Hope Street, I am already their manager? We’d be saving a lot of time.”
“I don’t know about that. Sounds to me like you’re asking for a really bad paper cut.”
“Not really. This prayer will be safer than the last one. Surviving this fall was tricky because it was fantastical. But I was going to be Hanson’s manager anyway. It’s coincidental if we pretend they’ve already hired me.”
“Do what you want. Just leave my name out of your prayers.”
“I’ll be sure to do that,” he said. “Please excuse me.” He prepared himself with an on-the-spot relaxation technique. He left one eye open, though, just to be polite, and before he began, he said, “How about you? Can I get you anything while I’m tuned out?”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Nada?”
“Nada thing.”
“Nicer breasts, maybe?”
“You big jerk,” she said. She began slapping his right shoulder with feeling. “There is nothing wrong with my breasts, gawwwd.” She crossed her arms and faced the window. Together, but emotionally separate, they shared the outstanding view normally reserved for passengers of a commercial jet. An orange brilliance diddled over the skyline. It didn’t interest her, though. She unfolded her arms just once, just long enough to pop Ra with her ring finger. “Jerk.”
He rubbed the “owie” in his jaw where she hit him. “It was just a thought,” he said. She had decent breasts, actually. Maybe a little droopy for an archangel.
“What floor is this?” she said.
“I think we’re approaching the fortieth.”
“Out of how many?”
“I’d say at least fifty.”
“This is going to be a long fall.”
The less coincidental the prayer, the more distorted its path to actualization. Because falling off of a flagpole, landing on the street, and driving away was preposterous, Ra fully expected that they’d fall for whole minutes, even hours. Hopefully his sister had thought to use the bathroom before they left Denny’s. Maybe he should pray for empty bladders while he was at it. But troubling God about Denny’s coffee would be pushing the envelope, so he simply had to settle for chortling quietly to himself.
“Okay, I’m going to pray now,” he said finally. “I’ll need some quiet.”
“You’re the one who keeps talking.”
“Right.” He closed his left eye. “Sure you don’t want anything?”
In silence, she turned back to the break of dawn. She leaned her head against the window, and Ra took the hint: no go. So he closed his right eye and began to pray. But he felt her hand clutch his shirt and shoulder. He looked over. Her eyebrows pointed to the roof of the car, and she said, “Fries. Want French fries. ‘Go Big.’”
TAXIING.
It hadn’t been such a bad fall, as far as falling hundreds of feet—hundred of minutes—in a VW Bug goes. The tummy tickle had gone away by the time they passed the twentieth floor. And they each had a bag of Carl’s Junior food to occupy their extremities. Ra ordered the Six Dollar Burger, which tasted like a four-dollar and fifty-cent restaurant burger, after tax and tip, choice of potato included. Brinkley looked so cute, so immature, with grease on her fingers and lips. They’d ‘Super Sized’ everything. Or was that McDonald’s? Oh well—
“So what you’re telling me is this,” Ra said, chewing, swallowing, “there’s no chance that we can get back together.”
“Correct.”
“None at all.”
“Right.”
“I got to tell you, I’m not sure that’s a good idea on your part. It’s hard to find a quality immortal these days. And I’m quite a catch, got a lot to offer. I’m young, good-looking, broad shoulders. I drive a sweet Volkswagen Beetle with an Alpine DVD-9993 player. I don’t smoke. I don’t do too many drugs. And, not to brag, but I’m the manager of Hanson, you know.”
She bit into her fry and laughed. “Yeah, I know.”
“Do I see a ‘maybe’ creeping into your face?”
She nodded, or was she silently chuckling? “Maybe,” she said, “say in another million years.”
“Then there’s hope!”
“More than you realise,” she said, leaning forward and pointing with a droopy French fry. “There’s Hope Street down there. Take a left at that rainbow cloud.”
“What rainbow cloud?”
“The rainbow cloud on your left.”
Ra looked.
“Your other left, retard,” she said. She snickered as she eased back into her seat. She thrust her hand inside the white bag and pulled out an apple pie.
HOLLY.
“Some grand opening,” said Hollywood Gleason Dewitt, 45-year-old, scrawny owner of the Tech Wit chain. “I’ve got no business since all those cops and ambulances showed up and started scaring away all my customers.” He was rich. He owned a mansion and a yacht. And N’Sync.
“Looks like this disaster really put you out,” Ra said.
“I’ll say it did. I’m telling ya, I saw an episode of Scooby Doo that started out just like this.”
Two guys in blue coveralls and orange baseball caps were fixing the automatic door. Seems that a human skull broke the opening mechanism. Mr. Dewitt licked his thin, chapped lips and stared in disbelief. “These monkeys couldn’t fix a nuclear submarine,” he said.
Brinkley shrugged at Ra; she didn’t get it either. She blinked, too, silently making fun of the man’s eyes. But Ra didn’t find that funny, as Dewitt’s pair of unblinking, black dots—in one or two ways—reminded him of his own blue eyes. Her joke made Ra self-conscious.
“Come on back to my office, Mr. Davis,” Dewitt said. “You too, girlie. This way.”
He stooped forward as he walked, hands in his pockets, his head bobbing to the words of sixteen tons, what do you get?, another day older and deeper in debt blaring from one of the multiple stereo displays. Dewitt commented, “Customers love playing with volume control.” Well obviously.
His “office” was the alley out back. Dewitt popped two cigarettes in his mouth and lit them with a three-inch flame, produced by a pen-lighter he lifted from his pocket protector. He smoked the first one down in an amazing display of gluttony, nodding at all of Ra’s questions. While smoking the second, he described the Hope Street Disaster in detail. Secretly Ra marveled at the man’s lizard-like appearance. At one point, Mr. Dewitt dropped his cigarette and, as he bent down, Ra noticed a Dead Milkmen logo showing through the fabric of his dress shirt. The guy had no ass. His buttocks were, nevertheless, contained in a pair of yellow jeans, dotted with more coffee stains than his tie, yellow also. His shoes were very expensive. Brinkley whispered, “The Brogue,” and walked away.
“Mind if I ask you something, Mr. Dewitt?” Ra said.
“Call me Holly. Everybody does.” He lit a third cigarette. “Unfortunately.”
“Uh, which do you prefer?”
The question surprised him. “Wit. I’ve always wanted to be called Wit. Like a nickname, like I belong to a club.” Wit shook his head. “Fuck it. Anyway, what’s your question?”
“I don’t mean to offend you,” Ra said. “Or make you uncomfortable.”
“That’s good to know.”
“And if it’s too personal…”
“Do I look like the kind of guy who gets offended easy? And even if you did offend me, pretty boy, which I sincerely doubt, at least I wouldn’t be bored whilst I commenced beating your kisser to smithereens. Uncomfortable? That’s a matter of fact: if you’re a mortal being, you’re uncomfortable. So I’m already, by definition, uncomfortable. Nothing you can do about it. You don’t know comfort until you’re either dead or God. (Or staying at a Coco Chanel Suite, but who can afford that, except me and Bill Gates?). And personal? Go ahead. Ask me anything.”
After that mouthful, Ra was afraid to. “I was just wondering,” he said. “Are you a god?”
“Does it show?”
“A little.”
Wit called to Brinkley, who’d been leaning against the dumpster all this time, her arms folded so that her denim jacket blanketed her imperfect breasts. She’d taken no part in this conversation. “What do you think, pretty lady?” Wit said. “Do I look like a god to you?”
Brinkley pushed forth with her ass and approached, her arms locked. “Got a bathroom?” she said. Ra knew she wouldn’t be able to hold the Denny’s coffee forever.
Wit held the door for her. “Down this hall to the end, take a left, then a right, then go up the stairs.”
He closed the door behind her.
“Don’t mind her,” Ra said. “She’s been PMSing since the 80's."
“She your girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
It felt good to pretend.
“Lucky for you she’s spoken for,” Wit said, “because, I don’t know, otherwise I’d have to move in on your territory. A little chunky, though. Could use a breast job. And the Hanson shirt has to go. But otherwise…” He coughed up some spit. “I can think of some vegies I’d like to feed her, know what I mean?”
Ra didn’t know, didn’t want to know. “So, back to you being a god.”
“Yeah, right, I’m a god. Was a god." With the tip of his Brogue he swirled the puddle of spit he’d made on the cement. “Not a god no more.”
“Why not?”
“You really want to hear this?”
No, but it was the polite thing to do, since Wit had been so forthcoming with information about the Hope Street Disaster. And, truth be told, Ra felt sympathy for him. The man’s bones screamed, “Lonely.”
“Nothing fancy,” Wit said. “I used to be the god of Not Being Bored.”
“Really. That’s interesting. I didn’t know they had a god for that.”
“They’ve got a god for everything.” He stomped out his cigarette and lit another. “I embodied the experience of ‘not being bored for a even a nanosecond.’ People worshipped me, man.”
“What happened?”
“After so many centuries, you get tired of not being bored. So I said to myself, ‘What the hay? Let’s try being bored for a change. That’d be interesting.’ Or so I thought at the time.”
“Didn’t you like it?”
“It was okay. I slummed it for a while. The trouble came when I tried being interested in life again. I couldn’t get back. See, that one fateful instant that I actually became bored, even just this much…” He demonstrated by pinching his finger and thumb together. His fingernails were fiercely chewed. “Just a tiny fraction of a bit, I ceased to embody that unattainable ideal of not being bored that all humans strive for. As a consequence, I became human.”
“Sounds rough.”
“Being bored all the time? Yeah. Almost as bad as the eternal starvation.”
“You’re not starving,” Ra said, though Wit reeked of withering.
“It’s been over four decades, I haven’t fed off the adulation of a single frat house kegger, pre-pubescent slumber party, or Wiccan festival. Can’t you tell? Look at my sunken cheeks. Look at the bags under my eyes.”
“But you’re human. You do eat.”
“Yeah, I eat. But ever notice how empty food is? I leave every meal nourished and unsatisfied. You can’t expect an ex-god to get off on prime rib when he’s used to the prayers of billions.”
“Can’t you get your old job back?”
“Sure I can. Anyone can become the god of Not Being Bored. You just have to perfectly embody that idea, become the ideal. Jeez, you can become the god of Lost Lesbian Leotards if you work hard enough, believe in it.”
“So? Work at it. I can’t stand to see another immortal down like this.”
“Immortal nothing. I’m a dead man in another twenty years.” He took a drag. “Ten years.”
“Work harder.”
“Easier said than done, pal. When I stopped being perfect, I became, like, the most boring guy in America. I opened up this chain in hopes of easing the hunger. I oversee the construction of each store personally.”
“Does it help?”
He started another cigarette. That was his answer.
“So a couple more questions about this tornado yesterday,” Ra said. “Did you have anything to do with it?”
“No. Wish I had.”
“Really. Don’t you care about all your customers who lost their lives?”
“Care? Of course I care, what do I look like, a monster? It sucked big-time, no pun intended. But at least I wasn’t bored for once. Got to see a poodle die, that was something.”
“Fascinating. Tell me more about the people who were in and out of your store recently.”
Wit took a pause. “What newspaper are you and your girlfriend with? Not the LA Spy, I hope. Did you see the one about the guy pregnant with a gerbil? Freaky, man.”
“We’re not reporters.”
“Because I don’t want my picture taken. I don’t photograph all that well, you know what I mean?”
“Promise. We’re not.”
“Cops?”
“No.”
“Angels?”
Oops. A Keeper who gets asked if it is indeed an angel must answer truthfully. It’s in his contract. But since Wit was an ex-god, Ra didn’t see the harm. It just caught him off guard; that’s all. “Yeah,” he said with confidence. “We’re Keepers.”
“Oh. Right. Keepers. That whole ‘idea’ mumbo jumbo. Keeping all God’s wayward miracles from unraveling the fabric of reality. Redistributing the power of thought among the populace, right? Like Robin Hood.”
He liked the sound of that. “Right,” he said.
“Keeping the geniuses down, washed out. Keeping the people uninspired. Keeping us from reaching states of perfection. Keeping us all dreary and the same.”
“I suppose.”
“Gotta tell ya, pal, I ain’t all that impressed. I would welcome a good old-fashioned apocalypse right about now. LA is so damn boring.”
Ra didn’t need him to be impressed, just informative. “I believe an unplanned miracle was the cause of all this trouble,” he said. “The trouble that chased all your customers away, I should add.” That got his attention. “Did you notice any unusual behavior that might have lead to an eruption of The Idea?”
“Come to think of it, I’ve got this new employee, Bubbles. The day before the tornado, her ex-husband came in and started acting weird.”
“Dangerous?”
“No, just…weird. Apparently they hadn’t seen each other in a really long time. It was hard to watch. Ever see a comedian bombing on-stage? Real touch-and-go there for a second. I thought he was gonna start crying. Instead he paid for fifteen CD’s and left, so he’s okay in my book.”
“And you think this has something to do with the disaster?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. He looked like he might be capable of an idea or two. And his wifey had some things to say about him.”
“Can we talk to her?”
“Sure.” Wit scoffed. “Check the hospital.”
“The hospital?”
“She had an accident. She called this morning to say she wouldn’t be in on Monday. Hit her head."
A head injury. The Idea often went straight for the head. It might have been coincidence, but Ra couldn’t ignore a hunch to the contrary. He’d been enjoying the aftertaste of mango fruit since the moment he laid eyes on Tech Wit. Ra licked his lips and swallowed. He couldn’t grasp how Brinkley could hate the taste of God-stuff.
“Which hospital is Bubbles at?”
Wit frowned.
Just then, the door opened. It was a red-haired, red-bearded kid, maybe eighteen years old. “Here you are,” he said. “The electrician dude wants to talk to you. He says we’re going to need a whole new door.”
Wit threw his cigarette down. “You tell that punk electrician he can fix the door we got and stop trying to bleed my dry. Damn monkey.” He reached for his Marlboros. “Tell him I called him a monkey.”
“You’re the boss.”
“Hey, Teddy, wait up. Which hospital did Bubbles end up going to?”
“Who?”
“That new clerk. You know the one I mean. The one that called in sick for tomorrow, because she said rooftop angels played music that carried her into the arms of her ‘non-caring, bastard ex-husband-jerk-o-fink-off’?”
“You mean Bunny?”
“Right, that’s her name.”
“I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember,” Wit said. “You can’t remember even a simple thing, can you?”
“I remember the phone number to the California Labor Board.” Teddy checked his watch. “So…should I tell the guy to order the door?”
“Yeah. And while you’re at it, you’re fired.”
Teddy paused, then rolled his eyes and closed the security door.
Showing a throng of bad dental work, Wit grinned at Ra, who gave him a shocked look in return. “Nyah,” Wit said. “Don’t mind Teddy. I fire him all the time.”
BUNNY RUTAI AUBREY.
The Volkswagon Bug followed the broken yellow lines leftward around the side of the mountain. There wasn’t a safety rail to the right. One foul swerve and they’d drop eighty feet to sand dunes. But they’d done enough falling for a Sunday afternoon.
Ra glanced at the ocean and adjusted his visor to block the sun. “What if we just say Wit remembered the name of the hospital? Then we can say we’re driving there right now.”
“Uh…”
“Let’s bring her a ‘get well’ present. Should I pray for chocolates?”
“Now you’re just being lazy,” Brinkley said. “Can’t we call around to all of the hospitals until we find the right one?”
Funny how she didn’t object to the chocolates. “Too time-consuming,” he said.
“Less time-consuming in the long run. Remember the 60’s?”
“Hey. The 60’s were your fault. Besides…” He perked up as they drove through a darkly lit tunnel. He loved highway tunnels. They reminded him of the launch tubes in Battlestar Galactica. “Daylight’s wastin’.”
All too soon they hit daylight again.
They parked the Bug in the visitor’s garage, level 3, section C. They received permission to visit Bunny Aubrey in Room 402. Bunny, half-Asian by the looks of her, was sitting at the window when they walked in. White, fluffy layers of hospital dressing hugged her head like a sweatband. She seemed so sad, waiting for something intangible through her view of the parking garage. It took her thirty seconds to look over and see what they’d thought to bring.
“Flowers? For me?” She stood and walked right over. “Mm, they smell good.”
“Hope you like purple roses,” Brinkley said.
“I used to like daffodils. But to be honest, any flowers are welcome. I haven’t gotten flowers in a long time. Not since my husband.”
Ra said, “It’s your husband we wanted to talk to you about,” but Brinkley poked him in the side.
She said, “It’s nice to see you again, Bunny. I hear you got a job.”
Ra said, “Thanks for agreeing to see us.”
He didn’t like being shushed.
Bunny buried her face in rose petals. “It’s okay. When I heard that it was the caring woman who talked to me at Denny’s the other night, I just had to know. What’s this all about?”
Brinkley covered Ra’s mouth. “We’re interested in what happened to you during the Hope Street incident,” she said.
Ra stepped back, feeling as useless as Brinkley must have felt when he was talking to Wit Dewitt.
“Are you police officers?” Bunny asked, smiling.
“No,” said Brinkley.
“Oh." The smiled faded. "You must be reporters."
“No we’re…scouts. Movie-makers, actually. We’re on the lookout for new script ideas.”
“Oh. Is this tornado attack going to be a movie of the week?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Who’s playing me?”
“Lucy Liu.”
“Neat. Really?”
“Maybe.”
“Neat.”
Bunny seemed distracted, dazed. Certainly confused. Victims of The Idea often behaved this way. Some never recovered. Fortunately, though he detected traces of inspiration in her subconscious, he didn’t think The Idea had claimed her. It had been there, all right, nipping at her soul. But he sensed a deep resistance in her. Something emotional, most likely husband-related. If someone had hurt her, she might have blocked The Idea without knowing. Lucky girl. She wouldn’t have to be killed.
She was describing to Brinkley how her husband had rejected her, even though angels had reunited them in holy-something. Bunny hushed herself, though, embarrassed, it seemed, by how she sounded.
“Don’t worry,” Brinkley said, straightening the girl’s hospital gown. “We woke up on a flagpole this morning. I’m willing to believe just about anything at this point.”
Ra jumped in, whispering, “We did not wake up on a flagpole, sister darling. That never happened. Because if it did happen, we’d still be there…right? Or maybe splattered on the street. Do you want that? Or maybe sentenced to relive the 60’s, if you know what I mean? Nudge, nudge.”
“Mm…right,” she whispered back. “Ixnay on the lagpole-fay. Thanks.”
And, thank God, a flashback was accordingly avoided.
“That tornado that took me to Alhambra was just like the one in the Wizard of Oz,” Bunny said. “It was angels. I have a guardian angel out there, I know it."
A thought lit Bunny's brown eyes. She said, “Are you an angel, Miss Davis?”
Immediately, Ra covered Brinkley’s mouth. Her teeth slipped up and down over his palm as he muffled her reply. “Uh, Mrs. Aubrey,” he said, “can you tell us more about your husband?”
Bunny tossed the flowers onto the bed. “EX-husband," she said.
“Your ex-husband. Pardon me.”
“EX-husband.”
“’EX-husband.’ Gotcha. Where does your EX-husband live?”
“I honestly don’t know. But I never want to see him again.”
“I see. Can you at least give us his name?”
“Sure you’re not cops? Cuz if you are…good.”
Brinkley stopped struggling, and Ra let her go. “You figured us out,” she said, pulling a strand of hair out of her mouth. “We’re cops.”
“You lied then. Could be entrapment.”
Brinkley struggled with that one. "We're more like private detectives.”
“Oh…I see...I think.” Bunny fixed her bandage so it was out of her eyes. “In that case, his name is Sam. Samuel Brendan Aubrey, the man who broke my heart. Are you going to arrest him for something?”
“You can count on it.”
And with that, Bunny’s usefulness came to an end.
“Finally,” Ra whispered to Brinkley. “Now we’re getting someplace.”
BLASPHEMY, AN EPILOGUE OF SORTS.
As he was unlisted in the phone book, their only hope for finding Sam B. Aubrey was if he’d left a paper trail: paid for his music with a credit card, filled out a comment card, or signed up for a junk-mailer. Ra forked out his five dollars at the tollbooth, and they exited the parking garage, heading back in the direction of Tech Wit.
On 56th street, he pulled over to the curb next to a ramshackle building. Brinkley asked why they’d stopped there. He pointed at a word spray painted on the gray-brown plank, nailed above the entrance. It read, “Church.”
“That’s a church, all right,” she said. “What of it?”
“All things considered, I figure I better check in with God. This is good a place as any.”
“Bad plan. You got away with your miracle-work scot-free. Let it go.”
“Scot-free? Every thought that we have is God. Gotten away with it is all we’ve done. None of us are free. I feel the need to apologize, humor me."
“But if you go in, I’ll have to go in. You said you’d leave me out of it.”
“Wait in the car,” he said, pulling the emergency break.
“I’m not waiting in this car. We’ve been driving all day—for two days. The bottoms of my legs are oatmeal, and I have to go to the bathroom again.”
“Fine.” There was a bus stop on the cross-street. “You go ahead. I can catch the purple route back to the Skunk Motel. I’ll call you later to see how things went with Dewitt.”
“Deal,” she said. “Given the choice between tangling with Wit Dewitt and God Almighty, well, you know my vote.”
“Scoot on over.”
Ra got out of the car, and Brinkley took the wheel.
“Good luck,” he said.
“Ciao.”
He watched her drive away.
The place lay on the fifth floor. Someone gutted a soup kitchen, painted Jesus Christ in the dining hall, crosses on the swinging doors, then added a crude wooden dais, called it a church. There weren’t pews, but two rows of folding chairs, instead. It appeared to hold a congregation of seventy or eighty. Ra was the only person there, breathing in the must at the back of the room.
“YUD HEH VAHV HEH,” he said aloud, as if God were anywhere near this dump.
Ra felt as lost as any human when it came to conversing with divinity. He knew for a fact that God existed, once and for all. But since passing through the Milky Way long ago, The Idea had become so much a part of the mythic forest, not even an archangel could grasp the breadth of its wake. The Creator was long gone, and what many considered to be reality was no more real than the shadow cast as God faced chaos.
Chaos is the deepest dark, and we, the shadow, are the light.
“Are you listening to my words, God?”
God was the spoken word.
“Do you understand me?”
Did the nail understand when one hit it with the hammer? Ra was master of the nail, then. How many smashed thumbs and bent nails were there to prove him wrong?
“Will you bend for me now?”
His voice echoed. His sandals squeaked. He crept one foot after the other up the aisle, his goal a lectern on a wooden stage.
“Adonaye,” he said. “I’m sure you are aware of the disturbance in the space-time continuum. You see, my partner and I were about to die. I know death shouldn’t mean much to immortals, but we weren’t ready to give up our bodies. Understand that we’re on the trail of someone carrying a really big idea. Really big. We couldn’t afford to get sidetracked with new brains, possibly forget.
“I guess I’m not being totally honest. It was more than that. I didn’t want to lose my Bug, I paid a lot of money for the stereo system. It’s a nice car, you should see it sometime. It’s a white, 2004 Volkwagon Bug. It looks like The Love Bug, except all bubbly and futuristic. I even had the number fifty-three painted on the hood and doors. You should watch those movies sometime, God. They’re pretty good.
“Oh, and while I’m confessing, I secretly wished for my car to have a soul, like Herbie did. Guess you didn’t grant that one. I don’t blame you. If you haven’t even seen the movie, well…”
The stage and lectern seemed to grow as he approached.
“I’m glad this happened, really. I’ve been meaning to clear the air for a millennia now. Got some things on my mind."
“Okay, I’ll cut to the chase,” he said. “You don’t like us.”
It felt strange putting it that way. Not liking someone was a human concept. Keeper angels naturally countered God; by existing as ordered beings, they involuntarily opposed the ideals of discovery, exploration, expansion, chaos. The friction resulted in emotion. Humans felt it, and God Almighty personified the feeling. God manifested as dislike for Keepers because they hindered its process of learning, but as emtion, God couldn’t fathom why. Fortunately, the Lord did not dwell on those who stepped too far into its path. It slapped their wrists and moved on.
Ra heard himself breathing.
“Ours is a thankless occupation. You don’t appreciate what we do. I must say that, of all the Keepers I’ve ever met, I’m the one who really knows how to play. I like learning new things. I am more like you, God, than you give me credit for.
“If you think about it—and of course you will, just the thought itself is you—we Keepers are only doing what you created us to do. You wouldn’t have conceived of us if you didn’t, in your subconscious, suffer a need to keep yourself in check. You need us, like the father needs the son.”
Quietude.
“I-I know you feel inhibited by us always keeping you from congealing. But look what happens when you amass in humans—Einstein, for instance. That guy was a loon. And look how he changed the commonwealth of scientific knowledge.” Maybe Ra wasn’t making a good point with that one. He rethought his words.
“How about AIDS? Talk about a goof on our parts. We Keepers tried to stop your mess. But sometimes we fail.” He wasn’t doing any better, was he? “I myself didn’t see our most recent disaster coming. Do you mean to tell me of all the Keepers in California, not one of them saw a tornado brewing in LA? That bothers me.
“Well, we’ve all got bigger fish to fry, I guess. Why drop the carton to catch a few eggs?”
He paused in the aisle. The shadows behind the stage seemed to be moving.
“For better or worse, we try to do our jobs. Jesus, I sound like Brink now. But she’s right—don’t tell her I said so, in fact forget I even mentioned her. We must keep you from manifesting. Even I see that. I mean, imagine the chaos if you showed your face at, say, the Vatican. And you would show yourself, wouldn’t you, if we let you? All of animal-kind, and all of mineral-kind, and all of vegetable-kind…the Epiphany would drive all the world mad.
Ra felt his blood moving now. “I mean, look what happened on Hope Street yesterday, case in point. You were out of hand, God, admit it. All the destruction, all the death…” Then the crux of it: “God damn it, I almost lost my car. My car. This is going to be news for weeks. And it just better not pre-empt my reruns of Friends.
“So you’re welcome, God. Your welcome for us keeping your little project known as Life functioning for you.”
He turned and started to leave. But he realized he wasn’t done putting God in its place. He faced the lectern.
“Can you imagine what your universe would be without us? Imagine what it would be like if you could just think anything you wanted? You’d destroy…” He waved his hands, indicating everything around him. “Without all this reality, you’d never hold a thought. You’d never remember what you’d learned, you’d never get anything accomplished. You need us tempering your every thought.”
He started at a normal pace toward the lectern.
Though feeling righteous, he couldn't deny the fact of how he’d saved himself and Brinkley from the flagpole predicament. He heard his heart loud and clear: “You are a hypocrite. No better than a cop who snorts the cocaine he confiscates from the junkie dealer.”
At least Ra was a living, breathing hypocrite with a nice car. Hard to argue with success. Arguing with success was like his holding on to the notion that N’Sync were a bunch of losers. Tell them they sucked, and they’d simply buy you a new attitude.
The silence of the room had developed a sound. It reminded him of the dead-air “whee” in his car speakers with the volume set to 8. He climbed onto the stage. He stood at the lectern and opened the Bible on its metal tray. “I hate churches,” he said. “Ridiculous, huh? It’s the only place I feel you’ll listen to me.”
He flipped through the pages of the stuffy book; via stichomancy, he’d elicit a response to his soliloquy.
“EH HEH YEH,” he said. “I deserve to be punished, I know it. I tampered with reality and that’s not my job. My job is to keep ideas from crossing the boundaries of believability. But I yam what I yam...as soon as my luxuries were threatened, I turned right around and ordered a miracle with a side of fries. For this, I apologize. My bad. I just hope you can forgive me.”
No reply.
He closed his eyes, flipping through the pages at random.
“In my own defense, it’s not like you presented us with reasonable circumstances. What are the odds of a Volkswagen being whipped into the air and landing straight down on a flagpole so it pierces the car through the middle—not the exact middle, I noticed. You did it at an angle so the point came damn near my head. Cute, God, cute.
“And that we even lived to pray for a miracle in the first place is, in itself, a miracle. The way I see it, you started it, God. Come on, admit it. You were tempting us, and I don’t exactly appreciate it. But I'm alive. Seriously, what’s the point of life if it’s not to keep yourself from dying? So I passed your test, in my book. So there.”
Ra was officially angry. He opened his eyes on page 997--damn-well insistent that he be recognized. After all this time, God owed him one lousy attaboy. He chose a Bible verse by wildly sticking his finger—
Yow!
He stumbled back in sheer pain, and the lectern tipped. It fell, the Bible with it, over the stage to the floor. The room clanked, and the book made a flat splat on the hard linoleum tiles. With clenched teeth, Ra danced in place, his fresh “owie” thrust into his armpit, safe from the sting of open air. “Dump truck, dump truck,” he exclaimed. Paper cut. Paper cut. Paper cut.
Finis
[Editor’s Synopsis: It takes a miracle for Ra and Brinkley to find out that Sam could be a carrier of The Idea that devastated Hope Street.]
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
*****Monday*****
It was dark in Narcosis. Day or night there was always a darkness that lingered around the place. Winos avoided it and addicts hated to go there. But there were free drugs; just because every third person never came out made it sort of thrilling...in a sick way. Then again there were lots of things about Narcosis that were sick.
The man at the door was tall and dressed in black. Not just black clothes but warty black skin and black eyes. Even his teeth were black. He was a solid shadow that checked everyone who went in. The junkies he let walk in unhindered. The demons and well-fed humans he stopped at the door.
"Whoa there, sister. Where do you think you are going?"
Alice stood there holding her purple bunny ear as if she was playing with her hair, “What? I can't come in out of the cold?”
The guard looked down on the small purple rabbit creature. The glossy sheen on his ebony orbs seemed to sparkle with dirty thoughts. A black tongue snaked out and dampened black lips, "You are far too hot to be cold, sister."
In her best southern accent, “Well thank you, hun, I do try. So I was told this was a club and that I would like the kind of people I meet here. Well, if they're anything like you then I just might like it here."
The monolith took a step that covered the door. He frowned at her, "I don't know who 'told' you about this place. But it ain't a club and you ain't a member. What is your game, sister?"
The warty black tower stood balanced with feet planted for a fight. "You aren't the kind who looks like you want to eat...or do any drugs."
“Well I guess I should go then if I’m not needed here. Too bad really, everyone needs some luck.” Alice smiled, “Yep, too bad.”
There is an art to calling a bluff. Not everyone can pull it off without looking like a putz. This guy was good...very good. Alice was almost out of earshot when he broke.
"What kind of luck?" he asked.
Alice walked back up to the hulking man. She smiled. She leaned in and whispered, "Bad luck hun." She pierced his spine with her knife just under his skull. She quickly caught the man and propped him up by the door. "You should have just let me in dear."
Alice took his earpiece radio and walked into Narcosis.
Inside there was a hushed silence that clung to the place. The low murmur of conversation was reminiscent of the sounds of cattle grazing on the plains.
There was a well lit counter where a Coke machine proclaimed that "Life went better with Coke" and a rack of chips in bags hanging from little clips next to a counter display of mints. Behind the counter a thin white man in a thin white coat was handing a bottle to a skeletal woman. The dark circles of his sunglasses were a stark contrast to this animated stick of chalk.
He patted her hand lovingly as she snatched the drugs and huddled on the pillows tossed around the room. The dark circles turned to the purple rabbit. Several of the patrons had already looked at her and dismissed her as an illusion. This man, however, was all smiles. "Lovely," he said.
“What’s up Doc?” quipped Alice as she walked over to the counter. “Question. Don’t the drugs leave the blood tasting odd?”
The sound of air huffing from his nostrils might have been considered a snicker. "My pet, that is part of the charm. Seasoning is what distinguishes a good cook from a chef."
“So they leave the cook unguarded? Well that doesn’t seem right. You keep this place open. You need more protection." Alice leaned over the counter and found the little panic button.
”Ah, there it is. Let's see how long it takes people to get here.” Alice pushed the button.
The white pharmacist looked amused at the chutzpah of the visitor. "You live dangerously. Do you go natural, or do you indulge?" he asked with all the pleasant politeness of a tea party.
The earpiece in Alice's ear sparked to life, "Signal at Fugue station. Maximum alert. Scramble!"
Alice could smell the faint odor of ozone. That button did more than sound an alarm. Fugue leaned back against the shelves of pills and powders with his casual deliberate manner. "I do, however, suggest you not reach too much further past that counter edge, love. I'd hate to smell burned fur."
The sounds of guns leaping from holsters and the red dots of laser sights jiggled into place around her. The thin man answered her question, "Not long it would appear."
Alice applauded. ”Yes, very quick Fugue, I’m impressed. But if I had a gun I could have shot you before they got here. I still say you need someone here.”
Alice put her hands up and smiled, "I give up. Do you want to frisk me?"
Fugue waved his hand at the darkness. A few of the junkies had begun to shake with the adrenaline that suddenly flooded their system. Fugue adjusted his shades and pointed a long thin finger into the large pillowed lounge. Several of the junkies were whisked away. "Special reserve," said Fugue.
He pulled a stool up to the counter and leaned his elbows on its smooth white surface. "What did you have in mind? Someone furry and dangerous no doubt."
”Well hun I am new to town and have some time to kill. Do you have a application or something?”
Something new...
Monday, 22nd August 2005 – 3:30am
Tash opened the door to the Poplar Avenue building, leaving the pitch-black night behind her. She’d not encountered Jem, but had found some more of her hangers on. None of them had been able to tell her anything about the book Jem had stolen, so she had gleefully dusted them. A quick call to Sorrow had verified that he’d not found the Black Veins’ leader during his hunt either. Now she was weary, but still on an adrenaline high from the night’s hunt and was looking forward to losing herself in Victor’s embrace. *My fiancée,* she thought with a contented smile and a shiver of anticipation.
She turned to close the door behind her and then stumbled as she stepped into the foyer, almost sprawling on the floor. *Wow,* she thought, *I must be more tired than I realised.*
She wheeled her bike up the stairs quietly, not wishing to wake any of the residents. It seemed particularly heavy tonight. Yet another symptom of her fatigue, she supposed. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of her own door.
Her apartment was dark, but she knew where everything was so she didn’t turn on the light. Besides, the faint glow of dawn was showing through the window. It gave her just enough light to see by. She could hear Victor moving about in the bedroom. As she passed through the lounge room her hand brushed a pair of pants draped over the back of a chair. A thought struck her as her fingertips encountered the hard leather of his belt.
She entered the bedroom and passed the belt to a puzzled Victor. She explained, “I want to try something different tonight…”
*** 9:17am ***
Victor laid in bed naked and watched the motes of dust tumble freely in the sunbeams through the window. He could still smell the sweat and the blood from last night and it disturbed him. He didn't know what to do or think or feel about Tash's "something new." It was not the loving caring Tash he thought he knew. *Ohenewaa. Maybe. Tash is a fuh-reak! No.*
Whatever the cause Victor knew that the abandon with which she was whipping him and he… Victor shuddered. He didn't want to go there again. He had done it because she asked, not because he liked it. *I liked it. Beating that bitch like a… ENOUGH!*
He gathered up the sheets and placed them in the hamper. He went to the closet to get fresh ones and saw that even they had been ruffled. It was as if every inch of this apartment had been searched. *Maybe Galen had his government buddies checking us out. Or worse yet… Xavier.* No, there weren't any signs of forced entry.
Victor made the bed while upstairs he could hear the thumping of Tash's workout. She had started early this morning as the sun was barely up. She was wired. Hours of… bed… then a workout. She had not even stopped for a cup of coffee. That was unusual.
Victor dressed and walked across to his office. He sat at the computer and checked on the status of his package. It was due to arrive next weekend. He had been very explicit in the instructions for getting it here. The packing, the route; all of it had been carefully choreographed. There were two things in that cache that he wanted to be sure arrived safely.
One was the scrolls he had smuggled out of Egypt into Turkey. There had been some cult pursuing him at the time and they were anxious to get the scrolls. He had done it out of spite. Now he wondered what significance they held. He hoped that Daye and Kate with their superior resources (or even Sorrow, he was proving a source of vast knowledge as well) might be able to decipher them.
The other was a box of treasures he had pilfered from the Vatican. He suspected that some of the icons and jewels were not only valuable but would be powerful and helpful. And he needed to liquidate some of his stashed valuables. This "foundation" was going to be very expensive.
He wrote a check for a huge sum to Daye and placed it in an envelope along with a note explaining that this was a gift and not a loan. He had been funding XY's rebuild in part through anonymous contributions to Jade as "a private investor."
He sat back and closed his eyes and listen in to the sounds of Tash upstairs. *She is really pushing herself,* he thought.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Monday, 21st August 2005 – 6pm
Sorrow got out of the cab and headed inside. Besides Hizashi he was carrying a couple of tomes that would hopefully give him a lead on Zhì-mìng-de Shù’s powers. Sorrow walked upstairs and dropped off the books in Jade's empty apartment. He'd missed her completely yesterday. He'd been asleep when she left for XY and by the time she got back he'd been out hunting; something similar had happened today. They seemed to be communicating with notes and messages and the occasional phone call. He patted the stack of books. *Looks like a night in with you guys.* Sorrow shrugged; it wasn't a Meg Ryan movie-fest but he'd be here at least.
Sorrow got changed into his working gear and headed upstairs. He'd been late back from the apartment and guessed Tash would have started without him. He tried the door and smiled, *Locked as usual.*
"Tash? It's Sorrow - you going to let me in?"
*No answer...* "Tash?" Again there was no answer. Sorrow left his kit bag by the door and walked downstairs to Tash's apartment.
He knocked twice. "Tash?"
The door finally opened on a highly distracted looking Tash. She was just pulling on one of her gloves, the other still clutched in her hands. Recognition dawned in her eyes after a moment. "Sorrow?" She blinked. "Uh, come in..."
Sorrow glanced at the gloves. *Lost in a vision?* It was unlike Tash to be that careless, he'd never seen her without her gloves on.
"We had training..." Sorrow said as he stepped inside. He quickly surveyed the room; there was nothing out of the ordinary though it did seem a little less tidy than normal. "If you want to postpone..."
Tash blinked a few more times and slowly pulled on her second glove before pushing the door closed. "Uh, training? Yeah, maybe not today... but would you like some coffee?" Without waiting for an answer Tash bustled off to the kitchen.
Sorrow put the back of his hand to his forehead. *That fever must be worse than I thought. Tash just said she didn't want to train.* He followed her to the kitchen and watched quietly as Tash made coffee.
With deft movements she filled the plunger and let it steep while she retrieved a pair of mugs and placed them on the bench. She glanced up at Sorrow staring intently at her and lowered her eyes, "What?" she asked. "Do I have antennae growing out of my head or something?"
*Something’s definitely wrong and the last time I did this...* Sorrow gently lowered his shields. "No, no antennae."
Tash sensed the relaxing of Sorrow's shields and looked at him suspiciously. "Sorrow?" she queried, "What are you doing?" Her hand rested on the top of the coffee plunger, ready to push it down into the black liquid.
"I'm ok, really. Just a bit out of sorts today..." She exerted pressure and watched as the coffee slowly bubbled up through the filter. She could feel Sorrow - poised, waiting to pounce.
He relaxed; let the shields come back slowly. She seemed more with it by the second and he didn't want to push things too much. Accepting the coffee he walked back into the lounge and sat down on the sofa, but his awareness was focused on Tash the whole time.
Tash rested her mug on the coffee table and sat next to Sorrow, sensing his scrutiny even as he sipped his steaming coffee. It slightly unnerved her, but also somewhat comforted her that he was concerned. She leant back in her seat and twisted slightly to face Sorrow, her chin cupped in one hand. One long brown leg stretched out and rested on the coffee table for balance.
"Well, I only found a couple of uninformative minions last night. How about you?"
*Well, other than a vampire with a really odd idea about what you get up to after fights.* "A couple of vamps; not even Black Veins. I think they've gone to ground."
Suddenly Sorrow's hand spasmed and the coffee cup crashed to the floor.
Tash jumped at the violent noise. She stared at Sorrow for a second in shock before reaching across and grabbing his hand in her own. She scooted closer to him and placed her other hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes with concern. "What is it?"
"It's nothing..." *Haven't had one of these in years.* Sorrow dug his fingers into his wrist and slowly his hand relaxed. He rubbed at the tendons and muscles. He looked down at the carpet. "That's going to be tough to get out..."
Tash didn't even look at the floor, "It'll be fine."
She took his cramped hand between her own and gently began massaging it, easing the tension from it. With their proximity, their legs touching and her wrist brushing his arm, Tash could feel Sorrow's concern - both for her and for himself - even through his shields.
His hand relaxed under her ministrations, but not as much as it should have. She continued working on it, stretching and kneading the muscles in his hand and forearm. While she worked, she glanced up at him, his face bare inches from hers. "Backlash?" she asked.
Sorrow shivered, "Not unless I'm sleep spellcasting. I've not been using enough magic to trigger a major attack and it doesn't normally manifest as physical symptoms."
Sorrow strengthened his shields; something was off here. Tash seemed normal but that slight sense of wrongness was still there. He pulled his arm slightly away from Tash, placed a little more space between them.
Tash frowned slightly as Sorrow drew back. She decided his hand was as good as it was going to get for now, so she lowered it gently. "So what do you think caused it, then?" she asked.
"Well tendonitis is a pretty common injury in Kendo, maybe I've been pushing too hard."*This is going to have to be quick.* The whole sense of the room was off and Sorrow made a decision. Power built rapidly behind his shields. Before Tash could react he snapped his shields down and listened.
A surge of raw power washed over Tash and through her, leaving every nerve end tingling. She thought she saw faint streams of colour flow from her to Sorrow, then she felt Sorrow. With his shields down completely all his fears for himself and Jade came through. The D'Nethk'Quan was uppermost in his mind - his hand... Then the walls between them snapped up again abruptly, cutting her off from his psyche.
She gasped, feeling like she'd been holding her breath for minutes. The whole thing had lasted barely a second, she estimated. She grasped Sorrow's shoulders and pinned him to the couch as she rested one knee lightly against his stomach. "What was that for?" she demanded.
Sorrow met her eyes then looked down at them, then back to her. "Everything ok Tash?" Sorrow was worried - there'd been nothing in Tash's theme to suggest anything wrong but Tash was not normally all over him.
Tash let her knee slide across so she was straddling Sorrow and lowered her head. "Oh, everything's fine," she whispered before capturing his lower lip between her teeth, biting hard enough to hurt, but not enough to draw blood. She kept her eyes locked on his the whole time, her brown orbs boring into his emerald green ones. Releasing his lip she planted a tender kiss on his mouth, "Perfectly fine."
Sorrow felt a surge of heat only for it to be chased away by a chill. His hands came up and reached for hers, prising them away from his shoulders. "No. Not now. Not ever." Sorrow's hunting persona slipped across his features and his voice was flat and cold.
Even though Sorrow pushed her upper body away from his, she could still feel an initial stirring of interest from him. She squeezed her legs around his waist. "And why not?" she purred. "Don't you find me desirable?" She glanced down, "Bits of you certainly seemed to a second ago."
Sorrow worried at his lower lip. He wasn't worried about what was after all a purely natural physical response to what had rapidly become an overtly sexual situation. This wasn't Tash however, and he needed answers. He leant forward and grazed Tash's lips with his own; pulling back before Tash could deepen it into something it wasn't. Sorrow spoke softly, intimately, "Victor is going to be a problem, maybe you could give me some info. Xavier could finish him off..."
Tash simply stared at Sorrow for a second, "Oh, no. I'm not going to let you hurt Victor. But," she leaned forward, resting her mouth against his neck, first running her tongue along it before gently nipping the tender skin, "Victor's a demon. I've never known what it's like with a real man."
The reply was too calm, too focused on other things. Xavier had been a major point of conflict and Tash's response had been far too mild. Still Sorrow was in a difficult situation. Tash was better at hand to hand and their current position allowed him few options.
Doing his best to ignore the sensations Tash was eliciting, Sorrow concentrated on recalling his conversion to D'Nethk'Quan. When he was certain he had the image fixed in his mind he caught her wrist in one hand and peeled the glove off with his other.
"Then it's time for you to really feel." Sorrow let his shields slip a little and sucked Tash's finger into his mouth.
Tash smiled against Sorrow's neck as he suckled on her fingertip. *Hmm, got him...* The thought went unfinished as a sharp vision overtook her.
Sorrow stepped into the room. Before him was a complex arrangement of gems, crystals, incense, candles and small bowls of water... divesting himself of his clothes he moved through the rings, his voice raised in song.
*Hmm, he does look nice naked,* Tash maintained the detachment to think before she found herself being drawn into the vision.
Sorrow/Tash raised their voices in chant, speaking words not heard in over two thousand years. They raised power and more power until the very air seemed to catch fire.
Tash struggled, feeling herself being sucked further into the vision...
It was hours later when the outer ring was drawn into the centre and absorbed to feed the spells being wrapped around Tash... She stretched languidly. She felt amazingly, awesomely alive. Suddenly, pain wove through her and it was like every nerve in her body had been set aflame.
Tash yelped. Her eyes, which had been closed, flew open as she ripped her hand from Sorrow's mouth. As soon as her bare hand broke contact with him the sensations started to fade, but tremors started in her limbs in reaction to the agony she'd felt. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times in shocked horror. She was sure he'd deliberately pushed those images into her. "Why?" she gasped, "Why did you show me that?"
Sorrow stood up, pushing Tash's unresisting body away from him. "Like I said, not now, not ever. As attractive as you are we won't be doing this." Keeping Tash in view the whole time, Sorrow edged towards the door.
Tash remained where she lay sprawled on the couch, watching him with sad eyes. "Pity," she said, "it would have been fun."
Sorrow gave Tash a quizzical look, *Definitely not Tash...* He stepped through the door and with the safety of wood between himself and whatever lay in the room beyond, Sorrow turned and sprinted upstairs.
Tash gazed at the ceiling for a little while. Now that the initial shock of pain had worn off, she had to admit that the sensation from Sorrow's vision had certainly been interesting. Such a shame he was too uptight to satisfy her other cravings. Sighing, she rolled onto her stomach and spotted the shards of the coffee cup on the floor. She reached out with her still-bare hand and brushed the sharp edge of a piece with her fingertips, reliving the spasm that had caused the cup's demise.
A soft sigh escaped her lips and she rested back on the couch. Not perfect, but it had been better than nothing...
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Sorrow reached the top of the stairs. Grabbing his bag he stood and tried to gather his thoughts. *Ok, Tash just hit on you...* Sorrow rubbed at his neck; a dull ache flowed from the marks Tash's teeth had made in his skin. Sorrow shook his head; Tash's theme was about normal as it could be, once you took into account the stress caused by all the Ohenewaa memories. There had been nothing to suggest why Tash had a suddenly thrown herself at him. Sorrow moved carefully back downstairs, his attention focused on recalling the events in Tash's apartment clearly. Absently entering Jade's apartment Sorrow picked up Hizashi and slipped the sheath over his shoulder. Sorrow padded towards Victor's office. Without knocking he entered and closed the door behind him.
"We need to talk."
Victor looked up from the papers on his desk. He was distracted... but it did not take him long to realize that there was more going on than a friendly conversation. A furrowed brow and a gesture to an open chair followed.
"What's up, Tristan?" Victor asked.
Sorrow remained standing. He'd feel happier about this whole conversation with himself on his feet and Victor behind a desk.
Sorrow ran a hand through his hair and started to speak, then returned to silence. "So how are you and Tash getting along?"
"I love her. I asked her to marry me and she said yes. But there seems to be things about her I didn't already know. I am not sure how I didn't know, but she surprised me last night."
Victor closed his eyes as if he didn't want to look at something unpleasant and continued speaking. "She has been struggling to find herself after this Ohenewaa business. I only hope that this is part of that search."
*Not the end of it. Oh no... She's just starting to get interesting!*
"So she's been acting strangely? More so than when this Ohenewaa thing started..." Sorrow's voice dropped to a murmur, "but that doesn't make sense - her theme was pretty much ok..."
Gazing into space, Sorrow lapsed into silence.
The two men waited in concerned silence like supplicants at a church. Waiting for the divine to provide answers that rarely, if ever, came. Victor coughed, then stood. "Sorrow, you have proven time and again that you are worthy of trust. I would never tell you this unless Tash trusted you too. She was like a different person last night. She was the same...felt the same...but was wild like a storm blowing. It was if she had abandoned control to something...scary."
Sorrow met Victor's eyes. "I think she's abandoned more than just control. We had a training session scheduled but the room was locked when I got here." Sorrow paused again. "I know - nothing unusual there, she guards that place like it was the holy of holies."
Sorrow smiled momentarily, "Anyway, I knocked. No answer. So I thought she might have been delayed. You know, something might have come up. Xavier or something."
*Get to the point Sorrow.* "She was in, seemed a little out of it. Something wasn't quite right."
Sorrow rubbed at his brow and sighed, "She hit on me Victor, and not just...," Sorrow raised his chin up and to the left revealing the teeth marks in his neck, "She knew just which buttons to push."
Victor looked puzzled, "Hit on you? Like training?" *No. Yes! Oh, Ghortab no.* "You mean..."
Sorrow's curt nod was assent enough.
Victor was both angry and sad at the same time. He slammed his fist into the wall without considering for a moment what the consequences might be. Brick and mortar gave way and cracks of waning sunlight shone through the hole. Then he just sat down. "Thanks Tris. I appreciate you being up-front with me. Now get out."
Sorrow opened the door behind him. "I'm sorry, Victor."
There was no malice or anger left in the reply, "I am too, Sorrow."
The door closed behind Sorrow and only the sad lights from the drawn shades and the hole in the wall were left to illuminate the room. Victor watched the dust settling through the beam of light. He could still smell Sorrow's sweat and the brick dust and it disturbed him.
He didn't know what to do or think or feel about Tash at all. He didn't know how to think or feel about this. He was adrift on the emotional sea. And he didn't have the will to paddle anywhere. He just wanted to float a while.
The door opened again without a knock. And a voice said, "Victor, we have to talk."
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Monday, 22nd August 2005 – 7:45pm
Tash’s bedroom looked like a bomb had hit it. Drawers had been pulled fully out and clothes were strewn over the bed, on the floor, even out along the hallway. The door to the apartment clicked shut on the devastation as Tash wafted out of the building and onto Poplar Avenue. Her exhaustive search had turned up an old leopard print mini-skirt she’d worn once to an 80’s retro party and the most gauzy and low-cut top she possessed.
She breathed in the twilight air and critically surveyed her reflection in the window across the street. The combination of high heels and bum-hugging skirt served to accentuate her magnificently long legs, while the top did little to conceal her cleavage. *Should do,* she thought. Smiling, she turned right and strutted towards Bob’s Bar.
Catcalls and wolf whistles followed her down the street as she approached the seedy establishment, and Tash felt a warm glow at the attention. It made a nice change from her usual ‘blend with the shadows’ mode. She sauntered up to the door of Bob’s and pulled it open, her nose wrinkling at the odour of stale smoke, stale beer and stale bodies that assaulted her nostrils.
She paused for a moment, letting the streetlight behind her silhouette her in the doorway before she released it. It slipped shut behind her and she entered the room. She hadn’t been in this bar for many months and figured Bob might not remember her. Frankly, she didn’t really care if he did. She manoeuvred through the tables until she found one that was free and sat, casting her glance around the room, making eye contact with various possible candidates.
She didn’t have to wait long.
A muscular arm rested on the table in front of her. “Mind if I join you?” the baritone voice asked levelly.
She tilted her head and appraised the face before her. Handsome enough, with a chiselled jaw and a fine nose. His eyes were a deep brown that held an unspoken promise. Her gaze travelled down, inspecting the well-built chest and arms and the lean, tapered hips. He stood still, accepting her scrutiny. Her eyes travelled back up his body to his face again. Definitely handsome enough. Oh, yeah, and he was a vampire – perfect.
She smiled suggestively, “Not at all. Please do.” She gestured at the chair beside her.
Before long they were laughing together, the vampire with an arm casually draped across Tash’s shoulders. He leaned against her and whispered into her ear, at which she licked her lips and nodded. They rose, the sound of their chairs scraping against the floor lost in the din of the bar. Hand in hand they left the noisy pub and escaped into the warm LA night. He tugged on her hand, steering her towards the alleyway next to Bob’s. She responded by sliding her arm around his waist and letting him guide their way to the deepest shadows.
She stood with her back to the wall, the vampire leaning close towards her. She whispered, “You don’t have to playact with me. I know what you are. You must have seen these.” She let her fingertips graze the top of her breast, highlighting the two neat puncture marks that were revealed by the neckline of her outfit.
His initial look of surprise was replaced by one of appreciation. “Hmm,” he uttered. This time it was his turn to lick his lips.
“That’s right – you get the best of both worlds. You can have me, then you can drink me. And if you’re careful, you can do it again tomorrow.”
His answer was to slide his hands up her waist, under her top and squeeze her unfettered breasts, one in each hand. Tash smiled and ground her hips against his.
Some time later Tash was reflecting that death wasn’t really such a handicap. The vampire – she couldn’t be bothered recalling his name – seemed able to perform all the functions he could have whilst alive. Plus some extras. She lay on the ground, her skirt hiked up around her waist and her legs wrapped around the sated vampire. Blood trickled down her side in twin rivulets.
She shifted her body weight slightly to free one arm and reached for the clutch bag that had been discarded along with her top. She slipped her hand inside the bag and drew out the stake hidden there. Kissing the vampire on the forehead she said, “Thanks for the good time,” before plunging the stake into his back. He had barely time to raise his head in shock before he settled to the ground as a cloud of dust.
Tash stood, straightening her skirt and dusting herself off before putting her top back on and returning the stake to the bag. She sighed and headed back out onto the street. *Hmm, bored now.*
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Monday, 22nd August 2005 – 10pm
Further down the commercial strip Tash found what she needed to execute her next endeavour. A broken corner of paving stone proved more than adequate to break a window in the hardware store. Clambering carefully through the opening she scanned the aisles until she found the supplies she wanted. Soon she emerged again with a bulging plastic bag and danced on down the street, oblivious to the stares of passers-by.
As she moved she scanned the aura of everyone she passed. “Nope, not that one,” she muttered to herself. “Nope. Nah. Probably – but too many other people around here. Uh-uh. Nope. Ooh… maybe.”
She swayed to a stop in front of a pair of teenage girls who had wandered into a quiet cul-de-sac. They were dressed in clothes that were way too sophisticated for them and had makeup slathered on in thick layers. The overall effect, Tash assumed, was meant to be alluring but really she thought it looked kinda sad.
“Hey, girls,” she flashed a grin at them. They stopped and eyed her a little nervously.
Tash, undeterred, pressed on. “I don’t suppose either of you are still virgins?” she asked.
One girl glared at her indignantly with her hands on her hips and stammered in surprise at the question, “W.. What’s that got to do with you?”
At the same time, the other girl shook her head, dyed black tresses waving about her face. “’Course not,” she declared vehemently, but her aura and thoughts betrayed her.
Tash grinned, “Thanks, just taking a quick poll.”
She lashed out at the girl who refused to answer and sent her spinning to the ground with a backhand blow. The other girl she grabbed by the scruff of the neck before she could run. A sharp jab with her elbow to the girl’s temple knocked her senseless. Tash propped her against a skip before returning to the first girl she’d hit. The girl was groggy, trying to rise to her feet. Tash placed her foot on the back of the girl’s shoulder and pushed her back to the ground. She leant down and used the leverage to snap the girl’s neck. “I’m afraid you were a nope, dear. But your friend there should learn it does no good to lie to telepaths.”
Tash heaved the body into the skip and hefted the unconscious dark-haired girl in her arms. “Well, my little virgin, we’re going to have a party.”
Tash navigated her way through the back ways, avoiding the main streets, aiming for the nearby cemetery. The denizens of the alleys generally paid no notice to incapacitated people being carried through those areas. They figured it was best to mind their own business and let folks get on with theirs.
A few minutes’ searching at the graveyard provided Tash with the perfect candidate. She regarded the headstone:
Thomas Kavanagh 12 May 1982 – 30 July 2005
She swiftly tied the slowly recovering girl with some rope from her bag of goodies, stuffed some rags into her mouth and laid her next to Thomas’ grave. The next item to come forth was a trowel. As she began digging a shallow trench around the grave she reflected that Ohenewaa had had minions to do this preparation work for her.Sorely missed
Soon the work was done and Tash stood, brushing the dirt from her. She turned her attention to the girl, who was now awake and watching Tash with wide eyes. Tash crouched next to her and trailed a finger down the teenager’s cheek, gently brushing a raven-coloured strand of hair out of the way. The motion was tender, loving, delicate – and menacing. Tash smiled toothily and placed a kiss on the tear that was trickling down the girl’s face. Her tongue lapped up the salty tang. The girl made muffled sounds through the cloth that gagged her, and Tash shook her head.
“Sorry, my little virgin, but no. I’m not going to let you go.”
She drew a large wooden bowl from the bag followed by the hunting knife, and the girl began to struggle in earnest, stark terror showing in her eyes. Tash regarded the teenager critically. This would be easier, she decided, if the girl were unhampered by clothes. They would soak up too much of the blood. She tore the shirt from the terrified young woman and tossed it aside before using the knife to slash the skirt from her hips. A quick flick of the wrist and underwear soon followed.
“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” Tash asked. The girl’s body was shaking with fear and Tash admired the way it made her young, firm breasts jiggle. She swooped her head down and drew one into her mouth, suckling it for a moment. “Hmm, you taste good enough to eat. But I need to keep you virginal, I’m afraid.” Sighing with repressed desires, Tash rifled through her memories of Ohenewaa’s rituals to make sure she had everything right.
Holding the girl’s bound wrists above the bowl, Tash made her first cut in the girl’s arm, watching the blood drip and land in the dish. More cuts and slashes followed, until a steady stream of the precious red fluid splashed into the vessel. The teenager gradually grew weaker and her resistance lessened. The light in her eyes grew dull and just before she passed out Tash drew the knife swiftly across her throat, causing a gout of blood to gush into the bowl and over her own hands and arms.
When the flow slowed to a trickle, Tash casually dropped the corpse on the ground and carried the bowl to the prepared grave. She began to walk around the mound, pouring a trail of blood into the shallow depression she’d made and dragged the words from the back of her mind.
Chukua madhabuha, kushirabu ya damu ya bikira, kama weye fufuka. Ni shupaza na ake maisha.
As the circle of blood closed and she spoke the final words, Tash could feel the potency of the ritual course through her body. Faint tremors shook the ground beneath her feet and she stepped back from the prepared ground, waiting with eager anticipation. She licked her lips, feeling her own excitement at the smell of the fresh warm blood that still stained her arms and at the thought of the power she’d just raised.Kushirabu ya ake kifo kama weye aishi tena.
Pindi duara ni kamili, weye aishi.
Sikia angu maneno, na sikiza miye kama mwnu malkia.
Fanywa angu amrisha.
The earth above the grave shifted and moved aside as the body within rose. Thomas hadn’t died a pretty death, it seemed. One side of his skull was flattened as though it had been crushed, and his right arm didn’t sit quite right. Even though he had only been dead less than a month, his flesh was already severely discoloured and had a slightly ‘squishy’ look to it. Tash thought he was the most incredible thing she’d ever seen. *My very own zombie.*
Tash stood her ground and spoke firmly, “Thomas Kavanagh, I am your mistress. You will obey me.”
Thomas turned his opaque eyes towards her and nodded slowly. He shuffled to the edge of the trench and stopped as the energies of the circle held him. Tash moved closer to him and held out her arms, the blood of the girl still warm and dripping on them. Her hand crossed that invisible line between them and Thomas sniffed, smelling the blood.
“Drink of the blood of the virgin,” Tash repeated, this time in English.
Thomas reached with his good left hand and gripped Tash’s wrist. His blackened tongue rasped across the skin of her forearm and she shivered with pleasure as she felt him grow stronger. His grip tightened and soon he was lapping at the last vestiges of the crimson fluid.
Tash entered the circle completely, carefully stepping over the channel in the earth. She disengaged her wrist from Thomas’ grasp and his head turned to follow her movements as she divested herself of her clothing. She settled back onto the warm earth of his grave and beckoned to him. “Now you will do my bidding,” she intoned huskily.
[/][/]Dollface (To Continue A Theme)
****Monday, August 22, 2005, 11:45 p.m.****
“Aahhh!! Dollface!! Where ya been?”
Parasol stood in the doorway of the Hancock Park converted duplex, regarding the constant object of her thoughts of late, lounging all slithery in the overstuffed chair by the fireplace, firelight flickering off his black velvet skin. He was in loose cashmere lounging pyjamas, leg casually thrown over the high arm of the chair, popping grapes in his mouth. It was a cheesy tableau and the grapes were overkill, but had Parasol breath, it would have hitched in her throat to finally escape as a Bobby Soxer’s sigh. She reprimanded herself before she melted into a pool of hot syrup on the granite floor and regained the posture and attitude hard won during her 170 some odd years.
“Don’t call me dollface,” Parasol said evenly.
London scooched further into the down pillows of the chair he occupied, tilted his head to the side and admired the Amazon standing in his doorway. Of course, he would have to dispatch the lackeys who were careless enough to allow her access to his inner sanctum, but no matter…he was glad they did. She was magnificent. He had been waiting for her since the night in the parking lot of Chevrine’s, though as time passed he grew somewhat disappointed, expecting her to find him long before now. She stood limbs akimbo in the archway, decked out in all black, a color that suited her skin and her hair of every color of a Grand Canyon sunset. Was that gray he saw at her temples of all that hair? His mind wandered to the moment in what he hoped was the none-too-distant future when he could wrap his hands wrist deep in it and pull.
London leaned forward in his chair. She was a good 20 feet away but anything he could do to lessen that distance was his intention. “Then what do I call you, love?” London ambled to the wet bar. “And may I offer you a cocktail? I have a fine 1924 Rh-Neg that is quite complicated.”
Parasol watched him move like a ghost out of the chair. Since her nightmare about her mother, she had been drinking Mr. Kleinsman’s kosher blood like there was no tomorrow, but it was faux. The thought of a good long sip of blood, and Rh-Neg no less, tempted her beyond the telling of it. Had she been able to pray, she’d have whispered a heartfelt “Get thee behind me, Satan.” Instead she croaked, “Call me Parasol.”
“I sense reticence about the cocktail. What? Don’t drink from humans, Parasol?” His voice around her name entered her ears like molasses.
“Mostly – no. There are many more of them than there are of us.”
“With that kind of thinking, Parasol, we’d have never gotten the vote.” He shook his finger at her.
Parasol gave an honest “Ha!” from the archway. She considered her desire for the blood and his mouth and maybe both together. She’d been around men before like London; men who walked everywhere like every inch of ground under them they owned. Parasol was sure that being a vampire fed his ego, no doubt substantial before he was turned. Now that he was all able to thrall and bend the weak to his will, she’d bet Elysian Fields that he was a pill to be around. She shook off her desire and commanded common sense to come chaperone her groin, because if he kept being witty AND waving that Rh-Neg at her, she couldn’t be responsible.
He took the bottle from the warmer and uncorked it. Parasol could immediately smell the blood. She shooed common sense away from her groin and to her suddenly parched throat. She watched as he poured a dollop into a goblet, swirled it and put the goblet to his lips. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as the sip of liquid went down his throat. His eyes were closed as he savored the blood. He licked his lips, opened his eyes and held his glass to her as if to toast , asking, “Are you sure I can’t tempt you?”
Parasol closed her eyes against the wooziness of “she’s gotta have it” swirling about her. Common sense was about to be a fickle bitch and decide to leave her altogether, so she decided to come clean. “Yes, you can, London. It’s obvious you tempt me.”
“It is obvious, isn’t it?” London chuckled. Parasol’s eyes flew open at his voice a mere few inches in front of her. Parasol could never get the knack of that moving at the speed of light thing. It was like dancing or surfing. You either had the groove or you didn’t. Parasol didn’t and she didn’t like that London did.
London continued. “That’s good to know, Parasol. I wouldn’t want to be in this all by myself.” London swirled the newly full goblet of Rh-Neg in front of Parasol’s nose. He silently bet this fabulous marble monstrosity he called home that her nature would do the rest, but just in case it didn’t, he hedged his bets. (You never know what god is listening and he just took a second out on the thing.) London watched Parasol watching him as he took a small sip from the glass. He kept his promise to himself and wrapped his hand in all that hair and gently tugged her head back. She didn’t resist him and let her eyes fall shut. London used his elbow in the middle of her back to gather her into him and he covered her mouth with his, allowing the blood to trickle over his tongue into her mouth, which opened of her own accord London gleefully noticed. *Oooohh-weee* he giggled to himself.
The rare blood trickled into Parasol’s mouth, its taste beyond describable. The proverbial blood-lust partnered with the fine frame of London doing its best to grind hips first through her was too much for her to bear.
In the six seconds it took for her to decide if she was going to do the deed, Parasol considered her sexual history.
Parasol preferred sex with humans, because it was sex and only sex, sometimes peppered with love and devotion on their part, nothing harmful. Since she didn’t ally herself with idiots, invariably her human romances would notice the uncommon differences common to a relationship with Parasol and the truth would out. That was usually the end of whatever relationship there may have been. No human can live in love and take all of the considerations inherent to vampire existence.
For example, although the very beautiful Jake could live with no brunches at the beach; he couldn’t live mirrorless. Although the very fastidious Martin could live with no mirrors in the house, he couldn’t live with her stores of blood in the icebox. Boren, the bass guitarist for the buzz metal band loved the blood (way too much in Parasol’s opinion), but grew to hate putting his interlocking part into her chilly puzzle piece. You get the idea.
The vampire vibe is way different, mainly because sex, as those unpossessed by the minions of hell understand it, is not the primary goal. It’s not even the secondary one. The mechanics of the act itself is wrapped up in other visceral, wrenching, unspeakable occurrences. The vampire way of ooohh-ooohh-lookie-nookie was like the non-kosher blood to Parasol. It was so enjoyable that she feared its power over her, especially if she was to keep her head about her with her family through the years. They were more important to her than giving in to what had become her nature.
But then there was the one thing vampires offered that humans could not. Immortals offered companionship, respite and solace in the dark unending tunnel of time.
London’s tongue dueled with Parasol’s in the puddle of blood occupying both of their mouths. He felt her arms, previously hanging lifeless at her side, grab at the muscles of his neck and shoulders as she climbed him like a peach tree. Only when it seemed she was sure of her position on him did she release his mouth. Her head was now higher than his, knees cinched into his sides. My God, London thought, she must have been hell on a horse back in the day.
London watched her eyes search his. Exactly what she was looking for he didn’t know, but if it was somewhere in this house, dammit, she now owned it. She released London’s eyes, leaned over to take the goblet from his hand. She looked at the liquid in the glass. She closed her eyes and put her nose just inside the rim. London decided he was going make her look that rapturous. She then looked down at him and tossed the cocktail back like a Bowery barfly, drinking hungrily until the last bit.
Parasol felt herself change. The blood was delicious, but it still lacked something. It was the decanter that was faulty – bottle instead of body – but it would do. She looked down at London through her ultra-sensitive eyes. He had changed too. She dropped the Lalique goblet to the floor and heard it shatter on the granite floor, tinkling into shards that skittering in all directions. She relaxed her legs and slid down his body finally coming to rest amidst the broken glass, leaning her forehead to his chest.
“London?” she murmured into his chest.
“Yes, Parasol.” He barely choked out his response.
She clicked her heel into the floor. “This granite will hurt your back. Show me somewhere that won’t hurt you.”
“Hurt me, huh?”
“You want to talk or do you want to…”
“MMMmmmm, Dollface, I want to…”
“Don’t call me that.”
“What? Dollface? It’s true.”
“It’s a failsafe name, Slick, and it’s making me lose my blood and any other kind of lust.”
“Failsafe? And don’t call me Slick.”
“So you won’t call Diana, oh something like – say, Beth.”
London chuckled. She was right. Smart cookie. As his experience with the opposite sex was directly proportional to his years walking the earth – times, oh, about 2, 3, 4 or maybe even 5 in a good year, women became non-distinguishable. Interchangeable. Diana. Beth. It was all the same to him. Parasol still had her face buried in his chest so he couldn’t read her but he guessed that this was not the right time to impress upon her that he would eventually call her what he damn well pleased – and like all the others before her, she’d like it.
Parasol drew her nose from his very good smelling chest to look into his face. “So, London – who am I?”
“Parasol.”
“Again.”
“Parasol.”
“Mean it.”
“Parasol.”
“Okay then. Let’s do this. Bring the blood.”
All is revealed.
Tuesday, 23rd August 2005 – 3:30am
Tash padded up the stairs inside Poplar Avenue, her high heeled shoes dangling from one hand. The smell of putrescence clung to her from several hours of Thomas’ ministrations. He’d taken orders very well, doing everything she’d asked of him. She smiled smugly to herself at this successful first attempt at raising the living dead. She’d reluctantly let him return to his grave when she’d done with him, making sure he took the drained body of the girl with him into the earth. Then meticulously she had filled the channel back in and smoothed over the disturbed ground. The bag of supplies had wound up in a bin somewhere.
Now she was ready for a shower, and had some other unfinished business to attend to.
Not wanting to explain herself to Victor, she bypassed the second floor and continued straight onto the third. Fishing in the clutch bag she found the key to the penthouse apartment and disappeared inside, closing the door behind her with a gentle ‘click’. A short while later she re-emerged, smelling much fresher and no longer with bits of Thomas stuck in her hair.
She moved silently down the short stretch of corridor to the door of the training room and let herself in.
“Now, my dear. Where were we?” she asked to the naked figure that lay trussed and gagged on the floor.
The woman on the floor was tied securely, the hands behind her back joined to her bound feet by a short stretch of rope that pulled her shoulder and leg muscles cruelly taut. The eyes that glared up at her were bloodshot and full of fury, with a touch of fear and revulsion.
Tash knelt in front of the dark-skinned woman and rolled her onto her right side, exposing the left side of her body for scrutiny. She ran a finger down the woman’s bare arm and rested on the nasty mess of scar tissue that nestled in the crook of her elbow.
“Hmm, I think this one should be next.” Tash murmured, looking at the illusion of a scar in her own elbow.
She settled herself before the struggling woman and patted her shoulder, “There, there, Tash,” Tash comforted her, “it’ll all be over soon enough.”
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Tuesday, 23rd August 2005 – 8am
Tash descended the stairs, feeling much invigorated. The past couple of hours had made her feel much stronger, far more alive. She smiled, stroking the now-real scar in her left elbow, happy at how things were progressing for her. Partway down the steps she spotted movement in the hallway below. She paused, waiting to see who it was. A slow smile spread across her face. "Sam," she murmured. She took a couple more steps down until he was in view. He was facing his door, locking it. She paused again and hitched one hip, the skimpy mini-skirt riding up one thigh as she did so. Soon he would turn away from the door. It was 50/50 whether he'd turn to face the stairs or away, and she was hedging her bets - she could always call to him if he spun the other way.
The door clicked behind Sam as he started for the stairs, whistling They Call the Wind Maria, and he looked up - and stopped, not quite at the baluster. “Oh,” he said. Someone was partway down the steps. She had the legs of an athletic spider and bare, black legs. She was African-American in a leopard-print skirt that hung from waist to buttocks and no, no further. Her hipline struck him in the eyes, and he swallowed. He’d never seen this person before, but whoever she was, she was coming from the penthouse. His new neighbor? He’d been planning on returning the keys to Victor. Maybe he should give them to this person.
“Hello?” he asked.
Tash took a further step down, putting an extra sway into her stride. She could sense the interest from Sam already. Another step, and another, and finally she could see him fully, his mouth hanging open slightly. "Hi, Sam," she purred, "Sorry I missed our session last night." She did her best to sound contrite.
“It’s…okay….Tash?” She looked… like Bunny when he’d first met her. The low-cut top did it. Wasn’t Tash wearing underwear?
Tash leaned against the handrail, causing her upper body to twist a little further. "Oh, good. I hated the thought that I might have upset you." She nodded at the keys he held loosely in his hand. He'd had a thought about giving them to someone when he'd first seen her... "Those the penthouse keys?"
Honestly… was this Tash, his friend, his mentor, his wannabe slut? A quick test…
*Tash?*
He gripped the keys tightly.
Tash cocked her head, looking at Sam quizzically. "Yes," she nodded. "Who else would it be?" She held out a hand, "I can take those now, if you like."
His forehead became a fold of rubber as he, with keys extended, began to climb the stairs. He felt her watching his thigh, and he covered it with both hands and a din of clinking metal. The keys only drew attention to his legs, and his limping gait, too. Her tongue, her pink tongue - he’d never seen anyone do that before with her tongue. It crossed her mouth diagonally and twiddled in mid-air. A drop of saliva hit his nose.
He handed her the keys, careful not to brush fingers. She made certain of otherwise.
Sam tried to draw his hand away quickly, but Tash was quicker. Her fingers closed on the keys as her other hand closed on his wrist. She held him lightly, loosely, so he felt he could pull free at any second if he really wanted to.
”Actually, there's something up there that I'd like your opinion on, if you don't mind, Sam." She didn't give him time to answer, but started back up the stairs even before she'd finished talking, gently tugging on Sam's arm as she climbed.
Sam acquiesced. This was his mentor. Obviously something was up. She was going undercover at one of those nightclubs to get a vampire or something. That made sense.
It troubled him how she touched his flesh. Sure they’d been exchanging contact all week in training, but this was different. Kimmie had touched him this way when she tried to make him go to After Dark, and Kimmie wanted only to…
“After Dark?” What was that? Where did that memory come from? A thousand kisses on his neck… Sam stopped before reaching the top of the stairs. He said, “Whoa!”
Sam's sudden stop jerked on Tash's arm. Rather than pull, she halted her climb, one foot poised to step on the third floor proper. She looked over one shoulder and smiled reassuringly, "What's up, Sam? Oh..." she felt the anguish of sudden memory flood his essence. She moved back down a couple of steps to stand next to him and tilted her head to glance at the fading marks on his neck. "You've remembered something, haven't you?" she asked with concern.
“Don’t you know?” he said. “You’re the mind-reader.” He remembered the faces pressed into his collarbone, the shivers in his veins. The sickness afterward. And then… someone kissing him, saying, “Remember, remember.” But it only caused him to forget. What the heck was going on? Razor nips on his neck, punctures that were days old and counting, suddenly stung like new.
Tash could almost taste the remembered fear from Sam. A shaft of morning sunlight broke through from the window at the end of the hallway and illuminated the dust motes dancing in the air at the head of the stairs. Tash watched them for a moment before slipping an arm supportively beneath his elbow. "We'd best get you sitting down," she said, suddenly all business. "We're almost there." She nodded to the door of the penthouse, just down the hallway. She began to climb the remaining couple of steps to the top of the staircase, encouraging Sam to follow.
The memories were taking swipes at his brain, leaving traces as long and thin and inexplicable as tiger claws. But through the rips he could see. He could see Kimmie and her lovely smile and fangs as white as snow.
This wasn’t real.
And so it wouldn’t be once Tash got him a bed and a drink of water. But he had to be at work in seven hours.
Tash manoeuvred Sam inside the penthouse and carefully locked the door behind her. She bypassed the couch this time and took him to the main bedroom, where she laid him down gently. She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then knelt next to him, taking one of his hands in hers before pressing it to her breast. She knew he could feel the pounding of her heart through the thin fabric. Ignoring his startled look, she whispered, "I know you've been looking at them, Sam. Forget Kimmie. I'm here now." With her other hand she gently stroked the nape of his neck.
The room was spinning, the ceiling fans above her head still. He saw Kimmie looking down at him, or Tash grinning with the fangs of a vampire. This was a dream, Mother Mariah teaching him another lesson. Mother Tash, his mentor. The tingling in his face told him so - as did the warm skittles under the girl’s fingers as she touched his neck and face.
Lordy, if this was a dream, should he go with it? Fight it? If this was real, were Kimmie and Tash one? Should he go with it, despite the dread in his heart, the desire? Was this After Dark? What was this place, After D-
“Whoa,” he exclaimed. She’d touched his nipple.
Tash continued her explorations. Apart from that one flinch when she first ventured inside his shirt, he'd not protested at all. But she could sense his mind was oscillating between reality and fantasy. She wondered if she should try to snap him out of it, then decided that it could be more fun this way. She could see just how far his subconscious would take him.
She pulled her top off over her head, and placed both Sam's hands on her breasts, encouraging him to explore as she joined him on the bed. Then she continued her own ministrations, removing his shirt entirely before running her hands over his taut muscles and rubbing her body along his legs.
He tried to sit up, but could only follow his arms to his hands, and two aureoles of the deepest black poking through his forefinger and thumbs. They looked hard as rocks, and as he relaxed his arms, they lowered toward his mouth.
“Kimmie?” he said, his heart thumping. “Are we doing the right thing? You’re dating Hesch.”
Tash leaned into his hands as they caressed her bare skin, a soft moan escaping her parted lips. "No, Sam, I'm not dating Hesch," Tash said. She leaned forwards, pressing her naked torso against his, and kissed Sam deeply while her hands continued to roam, slowly undoing his belt.
”See?" she murmured huskily, "Isn't this so much better?" She removed the belt and began to twist free the button on his fly.
He didn’t know if it was better. The clank of his buckle scared him, and he reached for it. She grabbed his hands and helped him help himself out of his pants. He stopped with his hips exposed, and murmured, “Oh gosh. This isn’t right.” He could barely think. He felt like passing out.
Tash could feel Sam’s conscious mind threatening to give way entirely. *No, we can’t be having that.* She slowed down, let go of his pants and shifted so she wasn’t directly over him, giving him breathing room. She couldn’t fail to notice that one of his hands remained cupping a breast, however.
She spoke softly, soothingly, “It is right, Sam, I can feel it. It feels very right. You feel right. I’ve needed a real man for so long, Sam, and you’re the one. You’re my man.”
She delved into his mind, digging out what she could about this girl he kept thinking about. She placed her mouth near his ear and whispered, “And I’m your Kimmie, Sam. I promise I’ll never take you to that bad place again. I’ll keep you safe. You know I only ever wanted you… I’ll stay with you always.”
Tash extended her neck to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, trailing her tongue along his jawline before kissing him lightly. She waited to see if Sam would prolong the kiss, deepen it. She could sense his passion – and his confusion. But his desire was strong. *Strong enough, with luck.*
He was seeing Kimmie clearly now. She’d finally come for him. She’d finally kept her promise to return home and let him meet her friends. And her warm breaths played on his neck. He looked up into her eyes as the background turned into ceiling and nicotine smoke. Eyes - dozens of them - peered through the muck to watch. He felt Kimmie brushing his neck, leaving stinging needles with each kiss. Sam moved his hand and felt her nipple shrink in his palm.
A cruel smile played over Tash's features. Sam was so deep into his delusion that he was convinced she was this 'Kimmie'. Perfect. Not only would she have the joy of knowing his body, but she could witness the unravelling of his mind as well. She undulated her body across his again, pushing further at his clothing to remove it entirely. Wriggling her hips, the skirt soon joined the other items that were now strewn on the floor.
She was in control, as always. Sam didn’t like feeling helpless. She’d played him for months in this way. He was not her toy!
He flipped Kimmie around and held her dark arms against the mattress. He was angry. And he kissed her deeply to prove it. He pulled away. “Always willing to change for the occasion,” he said. “Think you know my secret wishes?” Kimmie had donned the guise of a black woman.
His head was feverish, and a drop of sweat hit her nose. “I’m not the same person you met six months ago.”
Tash's long tongue flicked up and over her nose, tasting the salt of Sam's sweat. "No, Sam, you aren't. And I'm not the same person I was either." She turned her head to the side, drawing attention to the wrist trapped by Sam's hand. Looking back at him, her breaths starting to become a little ragged, she said, "And I'm quite happy to play the submissive role, if that's what you want, darling."
There was something about her voice that stopped him. Her panting… it reminded him… of… some… one…
He locked his fingers with the fingers of her left hand. With his right hand, he ran along her body, over the curve of her hip, down the thigh. He rounded her kneecap and started back up, all the while staring into her deep brown eyes. He gave her a quick kiss to hear their lips smack upon pulling away. “Tell me you need me.”
Tash's voice was husky as she responded, "You know I need you, Sam. I want you so badly..." She strained her head upwards to graze her lips across his. "I'll always need you. I'll die without you, Sam."
He felt her free hand touch his back as she spoke, and from her nails a chill ran through him. He used his knees to widen her legs. Her expression did not change. She was asking, begging. She deserved this. As he entered her body, a sea of warmth overcame him, paralyzed him. The muscles in the backs of his thighs became taut and his head fell back, exposing the arch of his neck. He began to move…
Tash met his movements, running her tongue along the exposed skin of his throat and feeling the fire build within her. Sweat flew from both their bodies until finally after several long, glorious minutes they rested, replete, entwined in each other’s arms.
Sam rested on top, catching his strong breaths while keeping his weight off of Kimmie’s fragile body. Except she didn’t feel all that fragile to him. Formidable muscles above her right breast supported his head, and he listened to her breathing. That familiar breathing. A sound he’d heard before, but not in this situation. Kimmie never seemed to breath before. It had always been Sam gasping for air with her on top. So why was she different now?
His necklace, earlier having been flung around his back, began to slide over his shoulder. It tickled, and he glanced at it. The cross, brilliant silver, fell upon her black skin and stared at him. It stared at him. It stared at him from Tash’s skin. Tash’s black skin.
Slowly the clouds cleared from his mind.
He arched his back, lifted up on both arms, their waists still connected. His heart leapt out of his body, dragging his soul along with it. Hovering above himself, he watched in absolute terror as Kimmie became his mentor, and he remembered. He wanted to suddenly flee, but that silvery cord connected soul to body, and bound them with a sacrificial cross. And there are times in this life when even Sam Aubrey cannot contain it.
*Oh Lordy,* he thought. But out of his mouth came, “Oh my, fucking help me, what have we, we, we?” And that’s all he could think to say, as beneath him she smiled.
*Oh, how delightful.* Tash smiled as she felt Sam's horrified realisation. She leered up at him, "Thanks, Sam. I've always wanted to know what it's like with a real man. That was... wonderful." She wrapped her arms around his neck and levered herself into a half-sitting position to smother him with a long, probing kiss. Her legs trapped his body next to hers and she rotated her hips, "Wanna try again?"
“N-n-n,” Sam said, prying at her iron-lock limbs and turning in place. He used an elbow maneuver that Tash herself had taught him, and instantly he was free. She seemed to have allowed it. She crossed her legs and leaned back, laughing at him.
He bent forward and began bundling his clothes. “Why are you doing this?” he murmured under his breath, his voice quaking. “Why, are you…” He covered himself with the handful of socks, pants, shirt, and underwear and started heading out of the room. *My lord,* he thought. *Victor.* It was hard to deny they were on a first name basis now.
Tash rose from the bed and padded after him, admiring the rear view. Sam reached the locked door and grasped the handle, tugging at it ineffectually. She slipped her arms around his waist and whispered in his ear, "Are you sure you wouldn't want to do that again? You seemed to enjoy it." One hand slid down his waist, over his hip bone and burrowed beneath the bundle of clothes he clutched protectively.
“I did not enjoy it, you can’t say I did. Where is the key? Let me out. Let me out.”
Tash's tongue made hot trails along Sam's back muscles, while the hand she'd snaked past his hips began to stroke rhythmically. "Oh, I think you did enjoy it, Sam," she purred. "You don't need the key... you have the key to me right here." Her wrist twisted in a small tweak.
Sam squirmed out of her grasp. How did he get into this mess? Was he still dreaming? His life was slowly slipping into chaos. It - The key!
Sam hobbled toward the table, covering his rear end. When he turned, he moved the clothes around his front. Tash stood at the keyhole.
“Step aside, Tash. I m-mean it.”
Tash pouted and sighed, but moved away from the door. As Sam passed her to insert the key into the lock, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Well, I have to say thanks. My first human. Anytime you change your mind about doing it again, you know where to find me."
Sam had to stop at that. “What do you mean…your first human?”
Tash took the opportunity to wrap an arm around his waist again and press herself closer to him, rubbing one leg up and down his thigh. "Just that. You're the first human man I've made love to."
“M-Mr…Victor. Victor is human.”
Tash kissed Sam, her fingers gently pinching his nipples, before responding, "No, Sam. Victor's a demon. That's why he has the magic disguise. He's not a man, Sam. But you are..." She pressed her body more firmly against his.
“You are… are lying.”
Tash pushed Sam against the door, tugging away the bundle of clothing he still held protectively in front of him. "No, Sam. He's a demon. But let's not talk about him. I want to talk about us. You know, there's lots of other positions we could try..."
No, no. Too much. None of this was happening. He wasn’t here now. He was on the other side of the door, safe from this monstrous Tash. He dropped the key.
“I will not believe,” he said. “I will not.”
The hairs on his head rose, static.
Tash murmured against the side of his neck, "Doesn't matter. Believe what you will. But come on back to bed with me." She bit gently on the skin of his neck and rubbed her body along his, her hands roaming over his flesh.
“No,” Sam cried, “I am not here!”
And suddenly he was on the other side of the door. On the other side, his clothes slumped to the ground. Buck naked, Sam was standing in the hallway, stunned. He blinked.
And then he screamed.
He’d passed right through, a ghost.
Tash blinked.
She was plastered against the door, her lips pressed against its wood. It felt like Sam had simply stepped or fallen back through the locked door. She drew back and rummaged among his discarded clothes for the key he'd dropped. But by the time she found it and used it, the door opened onto an empty hallway. The smell of panic was in the air and the sound of bare feet slapping against the stairs came to her. She blinked again, then shrugged. *Ah, well,* she thought.
She shut the door and went back to the bedroom to find her own clothes, whistling merrily. All in all, it had been the perfect end to a productive night.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Monday, 22 August 2005 - Almost Midnight
Jade got wearily out of the cab, paid the driver and made her way into the apartment building. She had been working for almost fifteen hours, the last five of which were spent dealing with representatives from the law firm she'd commissioned to help her with the legal side of rebuilding XY.
*Damn legalities can drive a person crazy! Thank god we're almost done... XY's finally ready to reopen!* That thought had become a mantra in her head for the last two days. At times, Jade had felt like giving up; she was so tired. Now that the finishing line was in sight, she was glad that she'd managed to stick things out. The small smile that flickered over her face disappeared, however, as Jade remembered the one drawback XY's drain on her time had. She'd been so busy, she hadn't had the time to speak to Sorrow about Xavier and her concerns about the Society of Ulle.
"Well," Jade thought, "That's going to change tonight." Tired as she was, Jade was determined to stay awake till Sorrow returned from his hunting. Although the last thing she felt up to was a confrontation. *Procrastinating on this whole issue isn't going to help us much.*
As she opened her front door, Jade was surprised to find Sorrow home. He'd switched on the air-conditioning and the blue lamps placed next to dining table so the apartment was cool and inviting. There were several books scattered around him and he seemed totally engrossed in them, the lights from the lamps casting a bluish glint on his dark hair.
Sorrow looked up as Jade spoke. He'd lost himself in mystical texts for the last few hours, waiting for her to come home. "Hi." Sorrow walked over to Jade and wrapped his arms around her. "You know I love you?"
"Mmmmmm... Not really. What about you show me again?" Jade's lips curved as they met his and she murmured, "I've missed..." The sentenced trailed off as she noticed the marks on Sorrow's lips. *They look remarkably like...* "Tris, what happened to your lip?"
"Later." Sorrow leant down and kissed Jade again then moved them over to the couch. "Drink? I know you've got a nice Chablis in the fridge?" Sorrow headed towards the kitchen before Jade could really reply. As he opened the bottle, he spoke again. "How did today go?"
"It was hideous. I'm aching all over." Jade snuggled against Sorrow as he sat next to her on the couch, took a sip from the glass he passed her and wondered why he'd avoided her question. Not wanting to think about work any more for the night, she opted for another topic. "What were you working on? You seemed pretty immersed in whatever you were reading just now."
Letting his fingers tease at the aching muscles of Jade's shoulders, Sorrow shrugged a little. "I'm looking into that stake of Sam's, Zhì-mìng-dè Shù. I'm certain that Sam's stake is Zhì-mìng-dè Shù. The descriptions match too closely for one thing. Now, I'm just trying to make sure what the thing does." Sorrow slid his hands a little way down her back, letting them stroke and sooth away Jades aches.
Jade's brows furrowed in concentration. "Actually... I've heard of it. Zhì-mìng-dè Shù, did you say?" At Sorrow's nod, she shook her head in disbelief. "The deadly tree... I've always passed it off as another Chinese fairy tale or myth!" She paused, deep in thought. "Sam said a taxi driver called Albert Hesch gave it to him. Did you know about that?" Before Sorrow could respond, however, Jade caught sight of the red marks his shirt collar had obscured till now. "Oh god, what happened to you?!" She reached out to tilt his head gently, examining the marks with careful fingers.
Sorrow moved his head away from Jade's hand. "Yeah, Tash mentioned Hesch. She wanted to see if I could find anything in the Society files on him." Sorrow rubbed at the mark on his neck. "As for this, I know what happened, but I don't know what happened." Before continuing, Sorrow took a sip of wine. "I had a training session with Tash this afternoon. I'm not sure why but she had something else on her mind."
Jade blinked. "Are you saying that Tash did this? She bit you?!" Jade's voice rose in bewilderment. "Good lord... Why?!"
Sorrow winced at Jade's tone. "Well I know what she was trying to achieve but I don't know why." Putting the glass down Sorrow turned to Jade and said, "She knows me well enough to know which buttons to push."
Her hand came up to stem his flow of words. "Wait... Wait!" Jade felt an unnaturally loud ringing in her ears and shook her head as if to clear it. "Tash pushed your buttons... She came on to you?! Is that what you're saying?"
"Yes... She came on to me." Sorrow's distress was written all over his face.
"Why the..." Jade's tone mirrored her twin expressions of anger and disbelief. "What the hell does she think she's doing?!" She sprang off the couch, dark eyes like chips of black coal. Angry spots of colour stained her cheeks and her fists were clenched tightly at her side.
"Hey..." Sorrow jumped to Jade's side and wrapped his arms around her. "It's ok, nothing happened." Sorrow's hands stroked Jade's back, burying his face in Jade's hair, he whispered, "I love you Jade...I love you." He drew back a little, "I wouldn't betray you, Jade. As soon as she started with the... I did what I had to do to get out of there without hurting her." *Too badly.*
All the pent up frustration that had been brewing inside Jade had finally bubbled over and her temper refused to abate. She brushed Sorrow's arms off, moved away from him and barely resisted hurling the wine glass she held against the wall. "It's not you, Tris... I trust you wouldn't do anything like that. But how could Tash try something like that?!"
She cut off Sorrow's attempt to speak. "And next time, don't try to pacify me in advance by telling me that you love me!" Her tone was razor sharp. "I know you love me. Don't use that love as a shield to avoid a confrontation! I've had enough of us dancing around topics you don't want to talk about!"
"So what have I been avoiding?" Sorrow's voice was soft.
"This whole thing with Xavier!" Jade burst out in exasperation. "You haven't said a word about it since the night Victor told us about him and his damn flamethrower incident!"
"Well, what do you want me to do? The Society doesn't feel that Xavier's fucking flamethrower is sufficient reason to take steps. My hands are tied Jade. If I act now, I cause more problems than if I don't!"
"I want him out of the way Tris! Has it ever crossed your mind that having him around isn't only a threat to Victor; it's also a threat to me? To us?" Jade swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. "What's it going to take before you're willing to stop adhering to Society protocol and run the bastard out of L.A?" She thumped her hand against her breastbone. "Are you going to wait till he finds out about me and comes after me with a stake first?!"
"Have you any idea what that would mean?" Sorrow practically growled at Jade. "I run Xavier out of L.A. when he's on a perfectly legitimate hunt and we might as well start running now. I betray the Society over this and it's my life! Do you understand that? I do this and I spend the rest of my life running! You know what that's like... Would you want that for me?"
"You know that's not what I want!" Jade cried. She gritted her teeth, forcing back the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "But you know as well as I do that it's only a matter of time before Xavier starts getting suspicious about your association with the rest of us and your connections in L.A. He's been fixated on Victor but how long before he starts digging into the details of your life here? And when he figures out what I am and who my father is, what then?" Try as she might, Jade could not control the tremor in her voice.
"He isn't bothered about me, Jade, and after that debacle at the mall, I think Victor will finish him off fairly soon." Sorrow sighed. "I understand your concerns, but if I act outside protocol, we have more problems than just a single hunter. We'll have the whole Society baying for blood. It's a fight we won't win. Let's not start it any sooner than we must."
*Protocol again!* Jade thought bitterly. *Sometimes, I wonder... If it came down to it, Tris would forego everything we have just because it doesn't fall within the damn Society's definition of protocol!* Out loud, she said, "No Tris, I don't think you do. Because they aren't 'concerns'. I'm afraid I passed that stage a long time back; while we were being chased like animals back in England over the summer actually. I'm probably around the 'extremely worried' stage now, rapidly making my way towards being 'frantic'!"
Deep inside, Jade knew she wasn't being entirely fair to Sorrow but she couldn't help it. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "I have a bad feeling about him... Xavier... And I'm scared Tris, I'm so scared and you just don't seem to care or place any importance on my fears..."
"Damn it Jade! I'm walking a tightrope here and a single misstep could cost me my life, costs us our lives! You think England was bad? It was nothing! That was a bunch of fanatics with more enthusiasm than skill. Ulle is a society of hunters. It's what we do and we're very good at it! If I give them a reason, any reason to suspect that I've betrayed one of them, they turn the whole membership loose! Do you know how long most last? Do you?! Three months, six at most! Frantic? You've no idea."
Sorrow stood before Jade, anger infused into his every word. "Do you think that I like the idea of someone hunting one of my friends? I would like nothing better than to drive the tip of my sword through Xavier's heart! But if I do it, I reap the whirlwind..." Sorrow's voice dropped to a whisper. "So tell me, are you ready for that?”
"It might not have to come to that Tris. And even if it does, I'd much rather we take the offensive rather than wait for him or some other mad hunter to charge at us with stakes aimed at our hearts!" Jade braced herself against the emerald green fire in Sorrow's eyes; she understood his logic, but knew too that she had to make him see hers.
"If Xavier stays on in L.A., he'll find out about your involvement with me, if he doesn't already know! Then he'll find out who and what I am and that's when we'll have the whole damn Society of Ulle descending on us like a nest of hornets!" Jade took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. "Please Tris... Forget Society protocol for a minute and just think about what I've said. Can't you do that for me?"
"Xavier won't stay in L.A. Even assuming he kills Victor, which I doubt, he'll head off for the next big critter. I doubt we are even on his radar. But even if that wasn't the case, I can't do anything. It's not that I don't want to, believe me, but if I act, I just set in motion the train of events we're afraid of! We have to ride this storm out. Maybe we can take precautions, but moving against Xavier will just make things worse, not better."
"Fine!" Jade's thready hold on her temper snapped. "Stick to your precautions and discretion! If you can't help me deal with Xavier, I'll deal with the bastard on my own!" Whirling away from Sorrow, she stalked to the window and stared out, her fingers gripping the sill with a force that turned her knuckles white.
Running his fingers through his hair, Sorrow sighed, taking a moment to relax and calm down. He then walked up behind Jade. He did not, however, touch her. "There isn't a way of making this go away without killing him, and that may cause as many problems." Looking at her still angry countenance reflected in the window, Sorrow slipped his arms around her. As she stiffened still further in his grasp, he whispered, "And I won't let you put your life in danger. If this must be done, I'll do it."
Anger battled with love and relief, making Jade close her eyes and lean her forehead against the cool glass in front of her. She sighed deeply, then leaned lightly against Sorrow's body as he tightened his embrace. "Tris... I know this isn't easy for you. I know the Society's been your life since you lost your family. Please understand that I wouldn't be doing this unless I believed it was completely necessary."
"I know, it's just..." Sorrow eyes met Jade's gaze in the glass. "You're sure?"
"Yes." Jade turned around and looked at his directly. "I'm sure. Don't ask me how I know..." She gave a short, bitter laugh. "Vampire defence instincts maybe."
Shrugging absently, she moved out of his arms, strolled back to the couch and sat down again. "You know, you might not even have to be directly involved. I'm sure I could get together with Victor and Ta-..." Jade's words came to an abrupt halt as she remembered her earlier anger at her friend for what had happened.
"Nothing happened, though not for want of Tash trying. She got me in a semi-compromising situation, started with the kissing and biting. I hit her with a vision, she lost her grip and I was out of there." Sorrow paused, "I should have worked it out sooner though. There was something off about her the whole time. I don't know... Maybe there's some truth in what that vamp said." Sorrow shook his head, then looked at Jade.
"What vamp?! For god's sakes Tris, what else haven't you told me?!"
"There was a vamp last night. He knew me, or maybe more correctly, knew of me and he had some pretty odd ideas about what Tash got up to hunting. I discounted it, it's not the sort of thing Tash would do. But after today? I'm not so sure..."
Sorrow grabbed a dining chair and sat down opposite Jade. "I don't know. Maybe this Ohenewaa thing has blown up. Maybe the proposal shook something loose..."
"The voodoo witch?! Hmmm... Now that you mention it, it does seem a little ludicrous that Tash would do something like come onto you. Not that you're not totally desirable darling," Jade smiled wryly, "But it's just not in her to be like that." She planted a quick kiss on Sorrow's mouth.
"So... Assuming you're right and it is Ohenewaa causing Tash to act... crazy... What should we do? Have you told Victor?"
"That's the thing. I did a reading when I was in the room and there was nothing new there. Oh, the memories are causing a disturbance but nothing more extreme than before. In fact, there was nothing to suggest she was anything other than Tash... I guess we'll just have to put it down to my sheer magnetism."
Sorrow gave a quick laugh then sobered. "And yes, I've told Victor. There are cracks in his office wall that testify to that."
Jade winced. "That must have been rough... For the both of you." She stifled a yawn as the weariness started to take over. "Well... We'll figure something out though. If Ohenewaa is starting to take over and dictate Tash's actions, some form of exorcism is in order... Can voodoo witches be exorcised?!"
"I don't think she can. Ohenewaa's just a group of memories that Tash is simply unwilling to deal with. Until she does, it's going to drive her to extreme actions." Sorrow walked over to the wine, "Another glass?"
"No... I'm so tired, I'll probably fall asleep standing up if I have any more." Jade made her way to stand next to Sorrow and rested her head on his shoulder. "Our first fight... A real doozy, too, huh?" She sighed softly. "Let's try not do this again for at... Ohhh... At least six months, ok?"
Sorrow let his hands skim down Jade's back. "Definitely six months." He smiled at Jade "So, you're tired? Bed then?"
Jade's answering smile was slow and coy. "I noticed you didn't say sleep..." Linking her fingers with his, she drew him slowly towards the room.
Game Playing
******Monday, August 22nd 2005 – 11:45pm******
Kate frowned in concentration as she studied the chessboard in front of her. She reached her hand out, her fingers hovering over the little carved figures, then finally picked up her glass of wine that stood on the end of the table. Galen laughed out loud and then resumed his observant posture opposite her. They had been playing now for almost two hours and although most of Kate’s clothes lay in a pile on the floor she still insisted that she was winning.
"Okay, okay," said Kate, frustratedly putting her glass down. She picked up the queen and moved it several spaces across the board. Galen laughed again.
"You can't do that," he grinned, returning the queen to her original position.
"Hey!" giggled Kate, "I wanted that there!" She took another drink from her glass and then sighed in defeat. "Oh fine," she said, relenting, picking up the rook, "you and your 'rules'."
"Well, it does kind of defeat the purpose to put your own King in check," Galen teased her before taking a drink from his own glass, his brow knitting together in concern. "Hmmm, too much wine. How long has that Knight been there?" He pointed to one of her pieces, currently threatening his Queen.
Kate giggled into her glass of wine. "You weren't supposed to notice that. If you're going to notice these things it isn't fair." While Galen deliberated over which move to make she glanced back at the neglected television. Galen had rented 'The Big Sleep' again. Vivian and Marlowe were in the middle of another one of their scintillating conversations...
Vivian: “So you're a private detective. I didn't know they existed except in books, or else they were greasy little men snooping around in hotel corridors. My, you're a mess aren't you?"
Marlowe: "I'm not very tall either. Next time I'll come on stilts, wear a white tie, carry a tennis racket."
Vivian: "I doubt even that would help. Now this business of Dad's, you think you can handle it for him?"
Marlowe: "It shouldn't be too tough."
Kate shook her head in dismay. "Why do you keep watching this film? You must have seen it a dozen times already, and that's just while I've known you."
“Hey, it’s a classic!” Galen said in his defence. “Come on, Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall… it’s the epitome of the film noir genre!”
“That’s what you said about The Malteaser Falcon” giggled Kate again.
“That’s Maltese Falcon. Sheesh, I may have to break up with you now for that one… By the way…” Galen grinned again as he confidently shuffled his rook across the board and stole Kate's knight. "Check," he said with a sly grin. Kate pouted playfully. "Come on honey give it up, check is check, you know the rules."
"Hmm, all right, but I still say you're cheating," grumbled Kate as she slowly unbuttoned her shirt and teasingly dropped it on the floor. "I swear one of these days I’m gonna beat the pants off you for a change.”
Galen couldn’t hide his pleasure at Kate’s tease. “I’ll look forward to it,” he said before going silent as Kate tossed her shirt aside playfully. She leaned forward to consider her next move, and Galen began coughing furiously as her Queen took out the rook.
He studied the board for a few minutes, reaching for the wine again. The next time he looked up, Kate was leaning over the table seductively, playing with her hair. He swallowed hard, trying to decide between Bishops to move.
“Well, aren’t you going to move?” she asked.
“Just give me a, a minute to think,” Galen replied in frustration, trying unsuccessfully to avert his gaze from Kate’s playful teasing.
"It's still your turn honey," she smiled, leaning further forward over the table, allowing Galen a good view of her breasts beneath her black lacy bra. She slowly ran the edge of her tongue down the tip of her index finger and then slowly traced the outline of her lips. She couldn't help smiling as Galen cleared his throat and averted his gaze. "Something wrong, dear?" she enquired sweetly as she picked up a newly opened bottle of wine and re-filled their almost empty glasses.
Galen looked from Kate to the chessboard, then back at Kate, then returned his gaze to the chessboard. He frowned and then moved his bishop, taking possession of Kate’s queen. “Check,” he announced with satisfaction.
“You are so cheating!” laughed Kate. “Well I refuse to take anything else off until you stop!” Kate stood up and went to sit in Galen’s lap, resting her arms around his shoulders. “You know?” she said, trailing a finger down his chest, fiddling with the buttons. “You could help me…”
“Help? I can barely think straight with you wriggling around on my… erm on my lap like that,” laughed Galen.
“I’m just using the moves at my disposal, making an offensive manoeuvre, taking no prisoners. Isn’t that what you taught me?” she smiled innocently.
“Y-yes, but I meant, I meant in chess… is it getting hot in here?” Galen unbuttoned his shirt collar; he wasn’t sure he could keep up this pretence much longer.
“You do look a little warm,” observed Kate, slipping her hand under Galen’s shirt. “But then you have more clothes on than I do… if you helped me, we could remedy that.” She smiled and wriggled on his lap a little more, turning towards the chessboard.
Galen held on to Kate’s scantily clad body firmly. It was obvious that she wasn’t about to give it up so easily. She seemed determined to make him wait until the last possible moment. Slowly he turned the chessboard around so that Kate’s pieces faced him.
“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully while trying to concentrate. “You see, you have to plan several moves ahead,” he informed her, still looking at the board. “You have to try and anticipate the other player’s moves, but not just that, it’s also about not being afraid to take chances, risks, sacrificing the lesser pieces to protect your king. It’s all about the king; not what pieces you can take, but about forcing the other player to retreat to where you want them. You see you want to get into a position where you can control the other player’s moves, manipulate them into going where you want them to… chess is all about strategy…” Galen moved a few pieces around the board, “See?”
“I see,” said Kate, watching Galen closely. She couldn’t help but feel that his mind had wandered a little, as though he were talking about something else entirely. “Honey?” she said, turning his head to face hers, she gently touched his cheek, trailing her fingers round to the back of his neck. “I think you missed something out.”
“I did?” asked Galen a slight hint of weariness in his voice.
Kate nodded, she reached he hand out, her fingers hovering over the chess pieces. “You also need to know when to admit defeat.”
Galen watched as she tipped over her king. His eyes returned to hers and his hold around her waist tightened slightly.
“I’m tired of playing games,” she said before cupping his face between her hands and softly trailing her lips across his.
“Yes,” he said soberly, scooping Kate up into his arms and heading towards the bedroom. “No more games.”
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
*****Tuesday - 10 PM*****
The rain was falling in thick globs and splatting on the pavement. Even the bums and losers weren't out in this weather. Alice was sure that she had not volunteered for this duty.
And the smell of wet fur — even though it was her fur — was less than pleasant. Alice sat in the open doorway and hid from the rain. The only good thing about the water was it made her meaner.
A big round-shouldered bodyguard came out and opened an umbrella. A well-dressed man followed him out, took three steps away from the door, and then stopped. He turned and wrinkled his nose, "Is that you?" he asked.
Alice sniffed, "Fur is a lot nicer when it's dry. You could use an awning."
Paul walked back to her. He was taking shallow breaths but to his credit he was very close. The bruisers with him were not happy but he was the boss. They weren't responsible for his recklessness.
"Listen, you want to go back inside and use one of the upstairs rooms to dry off and get changed. See Bruno. You know the guy with the rhino horn on his forehead? He's putting together a team. "
Paul gently rubbed her arm and seemed lost in the sensation of it for a moment. He snapped out of it. "I heard about your stunt yesterday. Some shithead is missing out on talent if they put you here."
"Thank you, Sir," Alice called someone to replace her at the door. "Bruno was it, Sir?" she asked demurely.
Paul nodded and turned to head back to the car with the bodyguards. "And call me when you get back from the job. I may have some other things for you to do."
"I'll be happy to." * Smegger.*
Alice smiled and walked to the restroom to dry off.
Bruno was sitting at a table eating a cheese sandwich. Alice knew it was a cheese sandwich because he had not unwrapped the package of cheese between the two slices of bread. Bruno had arms that were gnarled like tractor tires and hands with fingers that looked like kielbasa with dirty fingernails.
There were two vampires there in game face talking about how when they had paid off this or that debt then they would be high on the hog. Bruno looked at Bunny and snorted. "What do you want, rookie?"
Alice looked up at Bruno's beady eyes, "The boss sent me up here to work with you. He thinks you might be able to use me."
Bruno guffawed, "For what? Earmuffs?"
"So what are we up to, big guy?" Alice took a seat at the table.
Bruno slid the empty soda can across the small lunch table. "You can get me a refill."
Alice left the can and spoke in a normal voice, "Look dear, I'm not here to be your waitress. Don't make me smack you around in front of the vamps like the little punk that you are."
The two vampires stopped chatting and waited for Bruno's response. Bruno didn't look shocked. He didn't look much of anything because it was hard to read the snaggleteeth, horn, and small little eyes.
Bruno just stared at her. "You want to work with me, sweetheart, you got to learn one thing real quick. I don't like hotshots and hotheads. I don't like people who ask 'why' all the time, and I don't like you. Understand that and we'll get along just fine."
He reached over, picked up the can, bit the top off and chewed it reflectively.
Alice went over to the cooler and got two sodas. "Well I didn't say I couldn't work with you or even follow orders. I just wanted to know what was going on,"
She sat back in her seat and gave him a soda, "Here, hun, something to wash that down with. Diet Coke."
Bruno picked his ear and then leaned up close to Bunny. She got the distinct impression it wasn't so much for intimidation as much as it was that Bruno was nearsighted. "You ever hear of a place called The Armoury?"
"Nope. What's that?"
Bruno guffawed again, "Its gonna be a smoking hole come Saturday."
"Sounds like a blast. What's the plan, Stan?"
Seeds Of Doubt
Tuesday, 23rd August 2005 - 10am
Jade turned her face into the spray, letting the hot water sluice down and relax her tired muscles. She'd lain awake long after Sorrow had fallen asleep, her heart still troubled by the unhappiness from the fight they'd had earlier.
When she had finally fallen asleep at dawn, Jade's slumber had been dream-filled and restless... Now, hollowed eyed and exhausted, she felt as if she was being pulled in two directions - one part of her was convinced that she was doing the right thing; the other was haunted by apprehensions of making a huge mistake.
*What if I'm wrong? What if I'm just being overly paranoid about Xavier?*
*I'm not wrong. I can't be. This deep feeling of foreboding isn't just a product of paranoia, I know it... Some instinct I have is warning me that danger lies ahead.*
*A gut feeling's all I've got. Am I willing to risk our lives based on a gut feeling?*
*Our lives are at risk as long as Xavier stay in L.A... It's only a matter of time before he finds out, before he strikes at all of us...*
And Tris? Aren't I being too selfish in asking him to do this? To disregard all that Ulle's been to him these past 2 decades? The Society's been the only 'family' he's had.*
*I'm his family now. He had a choice, he chose me. He loves me... *
Nothing Jade told herself, however, could erase the niggling feeling of guilt. Somehow, it felt like loving her had caused Sorrow to compromise his entire life's beliefs.
*What good is a love like that? What makes me so sure Tris'll follow through on his choice? The way he acted last night... All the talk about protocol... His almost-blind loyalty to the Society...*
The fight with Xavier had opened up a can of worms. Not only had it made Jade realise what a precarious position her and Sorrow's relationship was in, it'd also planted seeds of fear and doubt in her heart about the strength of their love.
The water had turned cool. Jade turned off the shower and stepped out, grabbing a thick towel as she did so. Once dry, she wrapped herself in a thin silk kimono and padded out to the living room to put the percolater on and light a cigarette. Since she didn't plan to head to XY today, *A girl's gotta take a break sometimes!*, she had all the time in the world to brood.
Sitting on the couch, Jade left the cup of coffee untouched. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her knees and huddled against the cushions, drawing on her cigarette, lost in thought...
Tuesday Night...
*I’m dreaming.*
Victor’s head was mashed into the meatslicer as Vrithetek was running it back and forth. Paper thin slices were piling up on the other side. Vrithetek looked like a huge rubber suit, his horns wobbling unrealistically. Vrithetek held up the slice of Victor to the light, “You can see right through it,” he said in a nasally voice. Definitely not Victor’s resonant tenor.
Victor heard Tash behind him and as his viewpoint swiveled around he could see Tash wearing a rubber mask lying on the bed. Her G’rnathan Battle Fiend mask clicked its mandibles together. The butcher Vrithetek licked his lips beneath his mask and grabbed a slice of tomato and a leaf of lettuce and slapped together a Victor sandwich before abandoning the slicer.
He strolled into the bedroom and turned out the light. The blackness filled the room like a liquid, bubbling up from the floor. Victor held his breath as it rose over him.
*I’m dreaming and I never dream.*
Victor looked down at the grassy knoll that rolled beneath him. He could see the cable that Xavier had used attached to his ankle and his wrist was being pulled up into the sky above. The cable rose into the clouds above. Below he could see Tash holding the cable. She was pulling on it with all her might. But Victor wanted to rise.
Like a balloon in the sky he bobbed between the two cables. Buoyant. Lighter than air. He could feel the urge to rise. But below holding him back was Tash. She was so far away his shouts did not reach her.
The cable on his arm went slack and the wind dragged him along and Tash with him. There was a mountain ahead; maybe it would stop him.
*I’m dreaming and I never dream because I never sleep.*
The rocks weighed him down. The cave was damp and dark. Only the warmth of the body next to him kept him from shivering as the cold earth sucked the heat from him.
The smooth curves of his lover beneath the earth beckoned his touch, and he rolled his fingers along supple flesh and familiar places. He snuggled close his bare black skin to her brown warmth. He wrapped his legs in hers and placed a kiss on the back of her neck.
He rubbed her muscular shoulder and turned her face to his and kissed her mouth. But she tasted of onions. He drew back to look into her milky eyes, toothless smile and wrinkled face. Ohenewaa.
*I am dreaming and I never dream because I never sleep, for how can you sleep?*
There was a bright light following him, an airborne spotlight suspended in the sky. A black helicopter or a Monitor, he could not be sure. He was running from something; something deadly. It had a flaming head…but it was his head that felt the heat. An unbearable fire in his brain.
Then he realized the spotlight was the circle of illumination around him. He was the light in the sky. He was illuminating a very small city below him. He towered over the buildings like little toys around his feet.
The people below were shouting at him. He got down on his hands and knees, squishing buildings, cars and people in his attempts to hear them. His head ignited houses and trees as he approached. He could not hear them.
*I am dreaming and I never dream because I never sleep for how can you sleep when you are never alone?*
Silence can be deafening when all you are used to hearing is noise. It is scary and unfamiliar like the darkness is to those who live in light. Victor was in darkness but that never frightened him. The silence however was a different story.
“Victor. We have to talk,” the voice boomed around him like the voice of the Creator coming down from the sky, “It’s time you and I went our separate ways.”
Victor sounded very small. Very alone. “Where will you go? What will I do?”
“I don’t care, Victor. I never wanted you to begin with. Now I can be my own…”
“Man….my head hurts.” Victor sat up and rubbed his head. He could feel fine cracks in his chitin as he sat up off the floor. The computer screen was the only light in his office.
There was no sign of it... the thing, the huge figure that had entered the room. The G’rnathan Battle Fiend. It had hit him in the face hard enough to crack his chitin and then something... happened. Victor had passed out. It had left.
*He left.*
The silence in his own mind scared him. He was gone. Vrithetek was loose. Victor panicked. *Tash,* was his first thought.
He stood and was surprised at how much effort it took to move. It was as if he were underwater. He swam against the current to the door where he looked into the hallway to see the doors that lined it and the stairs to the third floor. Taking one step at time and moving steadily if not quickly, Victor moved up. He was so hungry. It was as if he had not eaten in years. There was no energy to push him forward. Like a toy whose batteries were dying he reached the top.
Painstakingly slowly he reached for the door. He tried the knob, and his mind lied and said it was only a few seconds. Victor knew it had taken him whole minutes to jiggle the knob. He concentrated to focus all of his effort on keeping his motions deliberate and efficient. He pulled out his ring of keys, each one weighting a dozen pounds apiece.
He used both hands to lift the keys to the lock. His arms shook with the effort. The keys jingled merrily as he managed to insert the key and turn it. He so wanted to rest… to lie down and sleep.
*I never sleep for how can you sleep when…you are alone. Just you. I am a figment of your imagination. He was real. You are all that is left. *
Alone. Except for Tash. Victor opened his eyes and with renewed effort pushed the door open. There on the floor was Tash. She had been bound and gagged. She looked ragged and drained. Victor made a few excruciatingly slow steps towards her and then fell on his knees by her side.
He could see her. Think to her… but he had nothing left… no energy left. He had to eat… or… sleep. He… had… to… eat… or.
Xavier - After The Fire...
Tuesday, 23rd August 2005 - 8pm
Xavier opened his eyes, bracing for the searing pain that had tormented him since the fiasco with Vrithetek at the mall four days earlier. Amazingly, he felt nothing. Getting out of bed and making his way to the age-spotted mirror hanging over a chipped, wooden table, Xavier inspected his reflection.
Evelyn had done well... The burns had all but healed, the raw skin had grafted over and, save for the scabbed, bald patches where his hair had been burnt off by the damn flamethrower, he looked almost normal.
He had not, however, forgotten the agony he'd been in just two days ago, suffering for which he held Vrithetek responsible. Unable to go to a hospital, Xavier had cleansed and tended his wounds as best he could for almost 48 hours until, delirious with pain and fever, he had collapsed. Evelyn had arrived to heal him in a nick of time, for the burns had begun to fester and he would surely have died of infection should treatment had been delayed.
"Vrithetek!" The name came out as a vehement, furious hiss. *The motherfucker had better watch his back.*
The flashing red light from the telephone next to the table caught his eye. Hitting the MESSAGE button, Xavier was slightly startled to hear that he had over a dozen messages. Slightly suspicious, he picked up the receiver and retrieved the numerous voice mails, all from the same source, each more aggravated than the last.
Picking up his mobile, Xavier punched in a series of numbers and waited. Once the call had been connected, he barked, "It's X. I got your messages." A slight pause. "I've been bloody near-dead so spare me your little snits. Cut to it, what's the emergency?"
As the voice on the other side prattled on, Xavier's eyes widened, then narrowed as the words sank in.
"He did what?" His voice was low and vibrated with fury, his face was contorted into a grotesque mask. "And how exactly did you get to hear about this?"
After he had hung up, Xavier flung the electronic device on the bed and slammed his palm against the table surface. His fury was so great, he barely registered the pain that sizzled up his arm. *So, I'm not the only snitch the damn Ministry has in Ulle. Should have guessed. The bastards never take chances.* Rage threatened to overtake logic but Xavier fought to calm himself down. *Hunting 101 - You get too pissed off, you're bound to screw up.*
Easing down on the bed, he stared at the peeling paint on the ceiling and pondered what to do next. His contact at the Ministry of Magic had told him that a request for his leaving L.A had been submitted to the Society's council, on account of him "risking the lives of numerous innocent civilians in an extremely public arena".
*A request like that could only come from the local Huntmaster. Why the hell would Sorrow want me out? I was doing my fucking job.* Suspicion threaded its way in as the memory of the way Sorrow had spoken to him that afternoon at the coffee shop floated back.
"There are humans in the building, I know some huntmasters aren't bothered about collateral damage but I am. You kill anyone while you're after Victor and I'll declare you anathema and hunt you down myself."
*Waaaaay too much interest and intensity there for him not to be personally involved in this...* Xavier's mouth twisted into a smirk. *Well well... Mr Huntmaster of L.A warrents some looking into...*
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Friday, 26th August 2005 - 9am
The dirty white van was almost invisible, so well did it meld into its surroundings. From behind its tinted windows, its occupant yawned and stretched awkwardly. He'd been sitting in the van for almost 18 hours with no sleep, waiting for his target to show up and figured he could last another two before he had to get out, walk around and try to work out the kinks in his neck and legs.
Xavier stared morosely out at the building in front of him. He'd arrived at Sorrow's apartment the night before, having finally felt fit enough to leave his bed, only to find the place empty. Discreet enquiries had armed him with the knowledge that Sorrow spent very little time at this address but since he'd no other contact information, Xavier had few alternatives to staking this place out.
*Better not let the Society in on this till I have a better idea on what's going on...*
********************
*Sometimes, I really hate L.A.* It was hot, even considering the time, and right then Sorrow wished he was back in England. *Ok, the weather was pretty crap but at least you weren't sweltering at 9am in the morning!*
Still, if he was honest with himself, it wasn't the weather that was grating on his nerves. Instead, it was the fragile peace between himself and Jade that threatened to break every time Xavier came up.
*She gets this look every time we even go near the topic.* He'd spent the past couple of days going through Xavier's file with a fine tooth comb, looking for something that would simplify this whole situation. *I'll kill him but I'm not putting us in any more danger because of it.*
Yesterday he'd finally spotted something. Xavier had killed a Myoleth triad about a year ago and the Myoleth were known for a vigorous attitude to revenge. What had made it even sweeter for Sorrow was that he had access to the ritual for creating a Myoleth 'praentath' - an obsidian bladed dagger with an interesting side effect. Revenge was not a dish served cold for the myoleth.
So now, all he had to do was track down the ritual. Then ask Jade to get the ingredients from her sources and Xavier was as good as dead...
********************
Xavier tensed at the familiar figure in the distance. Recognising Sorrow's muscular build and dark hair, he slumped lower in his seat. He didn't think anyone could see him behind the dark windows but why take chances? All signs of fatigue vanished as Xavier watched Sorrow enter the building. This was like any other hunt... You staked out your prey, you watched, learned their habits, their weaknesses... Then you moved in for the kill.
*The only difference is, this time I'm not hunting a demon. This time, I'm hunting what could possibly be a rogue Huntmaster.*
The irony of that was not lost on Xavier and he smirked. He had been a spy for the Ministry of Magic for the last four years, an allegiance that had proved to be highly rewarding.
*Ulle really should improve upon the benefits it offers us poor employees...* Xavier wasn't too sure where the Ministry's financial backing came from but it apparently was a lot more substantial that what Ulle had. *Funny how people are willing to pay a lot more for a bunch of mad scientists to muck around dissecting and observing demon bodies than they are hunters.*
Refocusing his attention on the building entrance, Xavier shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He'd checked for exits earlier and knew that this was the only way in and out so all he had to do was wait Sorrow out. *Then we'll see where and who the SOB mixes with.*
********************
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
***Sunday 21st August, 2005***
Reah had her head burrowed into her hands leaning on the counter. She hadn’t the slightest clue how to run the Armoury. She failed accounting! And not only did she fail, but her bitch of a teacher had the nerve to give her a ‘Z’. That was a real confidence booster!
She started to wonder why she bothered signing the deeds in the first place. Possibly because she felt a sense of duty to sign it, or maybe it was because it had her name on it…*Or maybe it was to prove to that stupid ho accounting teacher that I would amount to something!* Reah kicked herself for having a stubborn pride sometimes.
She was halfway through a moan when she heard the door click shut. Looking up she noticed a girl carrying a skateboard perusing the shelves and racks, then recognised a familiar face from a couple of weeks ago. *What’s her name…?* She clicked her fingers, *Oh! Jess!*
Smiling, she slipped from behind the counter and opened the security door to the store front and approached Jess from behind.
"May I help you?"
"Hey," Jess smiled warmly as Reah approached her, "I was just dropping in to say hi, thought I’d bring my…friend Ellie to take a look around as well." She signalled to Ellie who was staring at the cases a little further back.
Reah smiled back to Jess, then took a second look at Ellie. *Must be some sort of big sister little sister program thing!* "I’m glad you dropped in." She continued smiling. "It's good to see a familiar face. Especially during the day without the…" She hesitated, glancing at Ellie. "…distractions," she winked.
Ellie joined the two of them. Reah guessed she was about sixteen, seventeenish. She nodded to her skateboard grinning, "I see you like to skateboard." She paused. "Either that or you just like the extra carry round weight," she joked.
"Yeah, since I was fourteen, do you skate umm…?" Ellie looked to Jess for a name.
"Ah, sorry. Ellie this is Reah, I met her a few weeks ago."
Reah grinned. "Yeah, Jess helped me out. She’s a legend that one!" She then remembered Ellie’s question. "And yeah. I use to skate all the time until my life took a new turn. I wanted to go pro at one stage." She sighed, "I miss it heaps. I only have my bike now to rain general havoc over the public," she finished, her grin turning devious.
"That sucks. I’d love to go pro sometime but other things need me apparently." She shot a glance at Jess who just returned a sympathetic expression.
Jess looked back to Reah before speaking, "So how have you been?"
Reah heaved a sigh. "Well, that certainly is a question!" she began. "Not too well to say the least. We had a… break in here last Saturday, I was food poisoned by my ever loving room mate, I’ve recently inherited the Armoury when I haven’t a clue how to run the place, and I tried to go to a party to drown my week in only to turn up there late and find the place trashed by what looked like vamm…" She hesitated, glancing at Ellie. "…dilisers." *Phew…saved!*
"You?"
Jess grinned, "Ellie knows about the not so pleasant creatures in this world." She then paused to think about what Reah had said for a moment. "Fun week you’ve had, eh? I’m okay, my brother bought Ellie over from England and he’s staying for a while."
Reah glanced at Ellie quizzically. Ellie nodded, Reah shrugged her shoulders, "Gees! I was eighteen before I found out."
Now she gave Jess a curious look, "Really? How come your brother's not staying? And you don’t sound very English," she said, glancing back to Ellie.
Jess shifted her weight onto her left leg and gave a slightly uncomfortable expression. "Will - my brother works in England so he’s just staying here for a short break. Ellie’s Canadian although she’s spent her time in several countries." Ellie just grunted and began to wander off to the cases again and look around.
Reah was beginning to find these awkward moments something of a tradition between her and Jess. Then it hit her how completely stupid she was. Was it almost pointless for her to be trying to keep her little secret a secret? Tash had come right out when she’d met her when she knew nothing more than she was a chick in an armoury store! Jess had actually seen her fight! Completely pulverise a vamp! And with a katana! No everyday person roams the streets with a katana. *You told Sam.* She still wasn’t entirely certain how Sam took it, it made her worry, but he was making the effort to show it didn’t bother him at least.
"Ah! A traveller are we?" Reah groped for some conversation, her thought process was taking way too long.
"Uhuh…" Ellie’s attention was now on the crossbow in front of her. "When do I get to use one of these?"
"Ellie?" Ellie glared at Jess who was now walking over to her, "When you’re… ready. Let’s not talk about this here, okay?"
Reah watched Jess’ uncertainty grow. Clearly they could have a competition of paranoia between Jess and herself! It’d be close to call who won.
*Spit it out Reah! I hardly think Ellie’s going to be disturbed, and this tension is suffocating me!* Reah’s grin was hard put on. *This is pathetic, you all know about them and yet you still don’t even say what they’re called!* "Vampires!" Reah burst out in distress to shut herself up.
Jess and Ellie looked at her strangely. Everything was silent. She half expected a tumbleweed to blow through. *Well… that was… unexpected! Now if you could just get the ‘I hunt’ part out too.* Reah fiddled uncomfortably with a loose thread she hadn’t noticed before on her jeans.
"Reah?" Jess walked back over to where she stood. "You okay?" she asked softly trying to hide her puzzled expression.
*Deep calming breathes.* Reah inhaled and let it out calmly before turning back to a very confused looking Jess. *If you back down now, I swear…* Reah nodded, ignoring her frustrated self. She cleared her throat. "I’m fine. But um…" she trailed, "there’s something that’s really itching me and I think I’m going to have to say it to prevent my head from exploding."
*C’mon Reah, you can do it! Tash did!* She took a deep breath and stared an ever-waiting Jess in the eyes. Ellie was listening intently from the other side of the room while she pretended to study the crossbow. "I hunt them…. Vampires I mean."
Jess stared at Reah blankly while the silence reined "Uhuh…" She paused for a second then continued, "Why else would you have been out that night? I don’t hunt vampires all the time unless I have to but it’s my job…"
Reah stared blankly and mentally kicked herself, *Told you so!* She looked back to Jess, curious. "Your job?"
She sighed trying to work out in her head whether to tell Reah or not *She just told me her secret even if I already figured…* Silence. "I…" She paused for a moment. "I don’t know if you’ve heard of them or not before but I’m a Watcher." *How many people have I told now?!*
Reah thought back. It rang a bell - she knew they were linked to vampires and demons somehow, but she didn’t quite know the exactness of the job. Although she generally always heard something about a Slayer t0o… although she generally heard about the Slayer first and the Watcher part seemed to follow suit most times. "I’ve heard of them…." She glanced over to Ellie who was now not hiding the fact she was listening and was now watching them quite openly.
"It kinda runs in the family… which I really didn’t like at the time until the demons… killed my parents. I-uh…" She gave up at that before pausing and smiling wryly at Reah.
Reah sighed heavily. "Yeah… you get that don’t you!" she said solemnly and returned Jess’s smile.
They stood there for a moment in silence, Reah reflecting on her past. She found it a lot easier now since she’d talked to Sam. She could only guess Jess was doing the same thing.
"You get that," Ellie muttered under her breath. "Jess, you getting anything?" Jess stared blankly at her and they all stood in silence for a moment.
"Wow!" Reah finally whispered, waking the dead. "Looks like we could start a club or something!" Her mouth quirked in a slight crooked smile in attempt to lighten the sudden sombreness that enveloped the store.
"Heh, yeah. Look I should probably get going soon, I think Ellie and I need to get a bit of training done sometime today."
"Ooh! Training. Sounds good." She smiled. "Well I won't keep you, I know I can get a bit insy if I don’t train. Plus I need to work out what the hell I’m doing here," she added, frustrated. "We should catch up sometime again… without the monsters at night, or the monsters of day, " She gestured to the cash register and heaved a sigh. "Ah well. Maybe lunch or something? And maybe we could go for a skate sometime." She looked to Ellie. "I could invest in a new board, then you can show me what you can do, and I’ll try to remember what I could!" She chuckled, "It's been three years!"
Ellie grinned. Finally, someone who spoke her language! "Skating sounds good!"
"So does lunch, I’ll give you a ring sometime," Jess finished. "See you soon." She smiled then turned and left with Ellie following.
Reah followed them to the door to wave them off. "Catch ya round! Drop in anytime you want!"
She smiled and turned back to face the counter, adopting her war face.
Positions Vacant
***Sunday 21st August, 2005…6:38pm***
Reah double checked all the information and spelling before nodding approval at the little ad.
Joe probably would have come up with something better. *But Joe’s a little asshole!* Reah sighed. "But one I need!" Reah hadn’t had to run a place before, let alone hire the staff! But she was buggered if she was going to try and run this place with only herself as staff and security.
Reah placed the slip of paper into an envelope and sealed it. *If that Paul ever comes back.* She glared venomously into space. No way was she going to be caught short. *Joe could have at least found out where he was from and told me before he decided to piss off!* She hook punched the tissue box next to her, sending it flying across the other side of the room, a large crumpled dent in its side.
Deciding she’d had enough frustration for the day, she thought back to the visit she had earlier from Jess and Ellie. *Must tell Sam about that. And I must get myself a new skateboard!* She grinned in delight. Grasping the envelope she picked up the helmet she’d brought at lunch. "Hope Sam likes his present too." She’d bought it as sort of a peace offering. Sam hadn’t said much beyond a peep to her since Thursday. She figured it had something to do with what she’d told him, he’d been so quiet and avoidy ever since. Sighing, she slipped out of what was now her new office.
She felt weird wandering around Joe’s rooms without him, as though she were intruding. Clothes were scattered about as though he’d been in a mad rush and just jumped straight out the door without even bothering so much as to even call her.
Shuddering at the thought of what he may be going through, she hugged her coat closer about herself and quickly jogged out the door and down the stairs eager to be outside and get some fresh air.