*** 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.
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The wake-up call
Galen’s Apartment
Friday, 26 August 2005
3:00am
Galen sighed, glancing for what must have been the hundredth time at the bedside clock. He’d have to make a decision sooner or later. He looked down at Kate, still sleeping peacefully in his arms and sighed again, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He stroked her bare shoulder lovingly and inhaled deeply the scent of her skin. He didn’t want to leave her. Right now was the happiest he had been in a long time, holding Kate and feeling the rise and fall of her warm body resting against his as she breathed gently, rhythmically.
He looked again at the clock beside the bed – it was 3:00am. If he was quick and didn’t run into any problems he should be able to get back without Kate even knowing he had been gone. Regretfully Galen wrapped his arms around Kate and gently rolled her to the other side of the bed. She murmured sleepily and stretched out before settling again. Galen pulled the sheets back over her exposed flesh, trailing his hand mindfully across her back.
******A Little While Later******
Galen pulled a plain black sweater over his head and dragged his fingers through his ruffled hair. In his haste he dropped his keys on the floor. He cringed and looked anxiously towards the bed where Kate still slept. She mumbled something incoherent, stirring slightly in her sleep. Galen gazed at her; he’d never seen anything so beautiful in all his life, with her long red curls trailing across the pillow, her pale skin illuminated softly in the moonlight filtering in through the window… Galen leaned in and kissed her lightly, “I’ll be back soon,” he whispered before silently closing the door behind him as he left the apartment.
******
Kate felt Galen’s lips press softly against her own and then he was gone. She waited a short while until she heard his key in the lock and then climbed out of bed. She shivered and wrapped the sheets tighter around her naked body as she wandered over to the window and pulled the curtains back.
A few minutes later she recognised Galen’s car pull out from the underground car park and head off in the direction of Glendale and Burbank. Kate paused for a moment before moving away from the window.
Cops, Conspiracy Theorists and their Curious Girlfriends
Burbank East Side – Los Angeles
Friday, 26 August 2005
4:30am
Kate relaxed in the back of the cab as the vehicle slowly rolled down yet another dark and dreary section of the Burbank East Side. She was trying hard to concentrate on finding Galen but was finding it difficult with the cab driver’s music blaring out of the radio.
“Please, really can you turn the noise down, please?!” Kate implored the driver as she yet again lost her focus.
The cab driver swivelled in his chair, “Lookie miss, maybe if yo could tell me where is we’re goin’ I mean, I don mind cruisin’ around wi a darlin’ like yo self but, da meter is runnin…”
Kate sighed. She was never going to find Galen; at this rate he’d get himself arrested again, or worse he’d get hurt… No, she thought determinedly - he wasn’t going to do this to her, not again! Suddenly she saw something familiar. “STOP!” she cried out. The car jerked to a stop straddling both lanes. Kate pressed her face to the cab window straining to read the licence plate, *Could it be…?*
Suddenly a car horn blared from behind and the cab driver honked his in return making some hand signal out of the window. “Miss?”
Kate opened the door, dropping some money into the driver’s hands and proceeded down the alleyway while the cab driver shook his head in dismissal and drove away. Kate watched the vehicle roll out of view. As its headlights faded into the night the alley was plunged once more into darkness. Kate continued towards the car, running her gloved hands over the hood. It was still warm.
*Where could he be?* she thought looking around anxiously. The area was what would be classed as 'the wrong side of the tracks'. Dirty didn't even cover it, and the surrounding buildings looked abandoned and decrepit. Kate wandered around feeling lost and slightly scared. She wrapped her jacket tighter around her body, feeling the cold night air creeping in through her thin black sweater. She stood silently for a moment contemplating what to do next.
Suddenly she felt a pair of hands grab her from behind, pulling her into the darkness of a nearby alleyway. She let a startled yelp escape her lips before a gloved hand covered her mouth.
“Kate?” a familiar voice whispered in her ear, there was a faint sigh of relief and the grip around her waist slackened slightly. “Kate…” the voice sighed again, forcing an intimacy upon her. “Really if you’re going follow someone you shouldn’t take a taxi.”
Kate turned around to see Galen smiling awkwardly at her from the shadows of the alleyway. She frowned and hit him hard in the arm. “For God’s sake you scared the life out of me!”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Galen said, breathing another sigh of relief while being worried at the same time. What he was about to do was dangerous to say the least. *Why has she come, what is she doing here?* he thought wildly.
“I was worried about you,” said Kate in answer to his unspoken question. “You just left in the middle of the night without a word, what was I supposed to think?”
Galen sighed in resignation. “You were awake? I’m sorry Kate, but you still shouldn’t have come here.”
“No, I suppose I should have just stayed at home and waited for the phone call to tell me that…” Kate looked away briefly, “Galen, I’m not going to stand by and just let you get yourself killed,” she said solemnly.
Galen took her hand and kissed it softly. He knew she was just concerned about his safety, but that still didn’t make him any happier at the thought that she had followed him.
Kate looked around the alleyway and grimy buildings, still wondering what could possibly bring Galen out here in the middle of the night. “What are we doing out here, anyway?”
“We?” said Galen in surprise, “Oh no way, you’re not staying. You’re gonna take yourself back home, now.”
“Oh please,” said Kate in annoyance. "The last time you went off in the middle of the night like this, I had to bail you out of jail. I'm not going through that again."
Galen sighed in defeat. “Fine, but you get yourself killed and I will, I will, be VERY annoyed!”
Kate smiled in her triumph. “So, what are we doing here?”
“Executing a search warrant,” Galen lied. He took hold of Kate’s gloved hand and led her through a maze of dark alleyways. Finally they stopped upon reaching a small whitewashed building. It stood out in stark contrast to the surrounding gloominess. A sign marked it clearly as a free clinic. Almost as if reading Kate’s mind, he explained. “It’s the best place to run … testing… for their purposes. Nobody will ask questions if someone comes down with a ‘mysterious illness’ or vanishes here.”
Kate surveyed the building; for a medical facility it looked awfully run down. Galen began looking around the perimeter of the building, until he came up to the back entrance. He knelt down and slipping a small instrument from his pocket proceeded to pick the lock.
"I thought you said you had a warrant?" said Kate in alarm as Galen continued to unlock the door.
Unfortunately for Galen, the back entrance looked out onto a small side street. "Oh, I do," he said, then grabbed Kate as he heard the sounds of a car. "Get down!" he hissed. They moved aside and huddled together in darkness as a lone police patrol car went past. Once it was gone, he went back to work on the lock, quickly opening it. "It's just that the warrant is of a special nature. Classified, very hush-hush, bending of the rules for national security, you know the drill." As the door opened, he ushered Kate inside, quickly closing the door behind them.
The door led into a small antechamber to the clinic's storeroom. Galen pressed his ear against the door’s keyhole, listening for any sounds out in the corridor. Kate waited directly behind him. “This ‘special nature’ wouldn’t happen to be illegal would it?” she whispered.
“Kate, honey,” said Galen turning back to face her, “now really isn’t the best time to discuss this.”
Kate rolled her eyes in annoyance as she glanced around the room; she frowned as Galen continued to listen at the door. “Oh let me,” she said reluctantly. She yanked off her glove and placed her bare hand against the door and closed her eyes. “There’s a guard…” she concentrated, turning her head to one side “…he’s…” she opened her eyes and smiled. “He’s asleep.”
Galen swore inwardly before looking at Kate with admiration on his face. Still, it was good to know the guard was asleep. Now all they needed to do was hope they didn’t wake him up. Despite the possible danger, he smiled at her and tried to get her to relax. “Let’s try not to wake him, then.”
Galen carefully opened the door, cringing as it creaked back on its hinges. He motioned for Kate to follow him and together they slipped into the corridor. Galen held Kate back as he spied a security camera as it began its sweep down the room. They both exchanged a series of glances before Kate focused her eyes on the camera, building up a static charge in the circuitry. Suddenly the camera stopped moving, a small wisp of smoke coming from inside. They continued their way down the corridor, keeping close into the wall as they moved swiftly towards the office room where the guard slept soundly.
“I’ll take care of this,” said Galen as he removed a syringe from his pocket. He flicked the barrel a couple of times before quickly jabbing the needle into the guard’s flesh. Before the guard even had a chance to wake from his slumber the liquid had taken effect and he slumped in the chair, dead to the world.
Kate watched all of this in amazement. Could it really be that the man she loved could be capable of these things? And to do them with such ease and little care for the consequences. She could hardly hide her concern as Galen took the keys from the security guard’s pocket and began to unlock the office door.
“He won't be waking up for a good few hours, short of a ton of bricks landing on him that is!” Galen said, laughing slightly to himself, *So far, so good…* Once inside the office he systematically began searching through the filing cabinets.
“Um, can I help look for anything?” Kate asked nervously from the door, looking around.
Galen found one of the right folders at last, began looking through it, and could barely contain his horror. “Yes, there is one thing,” he said. “In storage, you should find several bottles of flu shots. They’ll have X73 on the label. I need to look for a few more things here, but if you can grab those - and be careful! - I would be eternally grateful.”
Kate nodded and made her way back to the storeroom. She couldn't help but feel nervous, she just wanted to get what they needed and get the hell out of here.
Looking around the room Kate couldn't see anything that resembled what Galen had described and was about to give up when she noticed the small refrigerator in the far corner of the room, labelled 'Cold Storage'. She opened the door and was met with a cool blast of air. There on the shelf stood a series of tiny glass vials containing some kind of clear blue liquid. Kate picked one up and turned it over in her gloved hands. 'Formula X73' was printed across the label in fine print. It certainly didn’t look like any influenza vaccine she had ever seen before. *Maybe it’s one of those weird Shanghai strains,* she thought.
Kate replaced the bottle and then took the rack containing all eight vials. On her way back to the office room she could have sworn she heard something. Dismissing it as just nerves she hurried back to Galen.
Galen felt no small amount of disgust at the people he worked for as he continued glancing through the files. He could look over them in greater detail later, but what he had already read was disturbing enough. The phrase ‘project terminated’ sounded innocent enough, but it was easy to guess what it meant. For a moment he wondered what would be worse, the use of the doublespeak or not even trying to hide it.
Kate returned as he finished collecting the documents. “All right, I have them,” she said in a hurried voice. “Can we please just get out of here?”
He nodded as they started back out, carefully shutting everything behind them. The important thing was to make the administrator able to plausibly deny that any break-in had happened. It was when they got outside and he shut the door that the worst happened.
The same patrol car from earlier was parked a little way down the back alley. One of the officers was on the radio while the other reached into the car for something. He straightened up and turned on a flashlight, walking into the alleyway. As he swung it around the darkness it crossed directly over Kate and Galen’s path. In her alarm Kate dropped one of the tiny vials; the glass container smashed and its contents spilt out onto the sidewalk.
“Hey!” shouted the officer, “HEY YOU!”
Galen didn’t even hesitate; he saw the young rookie fumbling for his sidearm and took his chance. In one swift movement Galen grabbed the rookie’s arm holding the gun and pulled it under his own arm. He planted a punch in the officer’s gut and twisted his arm sharply causing him to drop his gun. Galen picked up the weapon and deftly beat the rookie in the back of the head with the butt of the gun. Panting breathlessly Galen threw the weapon into the darkness as he straightened up.
He turned to Kate; the distorted light from the fallen torch highlighted the horror in her eyes. Galen only hesitated for a moment before he grabbed Kate’s hand firmly and pulled her into the darkness of the surrounding alley.
Kate half ran and was half dragged down the alleyway as Galen led the way. They soon heard the sound of the other police officer as he found his partner. He quickly returned to his car and picked up the radio. "I have a suspected break-in at the South Street Free Clinic... Two suspects, one male Caucasian..."
His voice became mute as they both continued to run. Kate was almost out of breath when they finally stopped. "Why... didn't..." Kate had to pause for a moment to catch her breath. "Why didn't you just show them your warrant?" she asked.
Galen wanted to continue, despite the fact that he was running out of breath as well. “I told you,” he said in between gasps, “this case is classified. If the story became public knowledge, it would be a disaster. For everyone. You have some idea of what it is, isn’t a cover-up in the best public interest?” He barely waited for Kate to catch her breath before he picked up the pace again.
"Come on, hurry! We need to get out of here, NOW!" Galen urged as he all but dragged her the last couple of blocks to where the car was parked. He could sense her resistance to him but he pushed his thoughts aside as he ushered her into the car and then ran around to the driver's side. Moments later the car burst into life and sped down the street. The sound of police sirens could be heard faintly in the distance.
Galen checked the rear-view mirror and saw flashing lights in the distance. He took the next two turns at random, trying to throw off any pursuers they had. “I’m sorry I got you involved in this,” he said, making another sharp turn. The black ford pulled into another alley and came to a stop out of direct sight of the road. After turning off the engine, they waited in silence. Sirens could still be heard in the distance, but with luck, they would miss the car in the blackness of night.
A few minutes, a police car zoomed by the alley. Galen waited until the siren was finally out of the distance before starting the car again. He drove steadily and calmly, occasionally checking his rear-view mirror with slightly more scrutiny than your average motorist.
He glanced at Kate. He could tell she was scared or nervous - probably a mixture of both. Her hands were shaking. He took one hand off the steering wheel and gently squeezed her knee in reassurance.
“Don’t worry love,” he sighed in relief as he pulled the car onto Huntington Drive. “Everything’s going to be all right.” He squeezed her knee again, avoiding her accusing gaze that contained more questions than he was ready to deal with right now. “Just try to relax, we’re nearly home.”
Telekenetic Wiccan+Mad=Bad
Kate’s House
Friday, 26 August 2005
6:00am
A small buzzer went off across the street from Kate’s house. Ernie rolled out of bed in surprise, knowing it could only mean one thing. He checked the clock, noting the time. Just after 6am. Outside of the window he could see the pair getting out of the car and heading up to the house. They had been at Galen’s place the past couple of nights, which Seb was currently in charge of listening to, thanks to the distinct lack of manpower MJ12 seemed to have in the area.
“This is damned peculiar,” he muttered, wishing he could overhear them as they went to the door. Walking over to the desk with his equipment he placed on a set of headphones and began to listen. Checking to make sure there was a decent amount of tape left, he switched on the recorder as he heard the sound of the door opening.
******
Kate’s heart was still beating furiously as the car pulled up outside her house. She had never been so glad to be home. Galen was talking to her about something but she barely heard as he took her hand and led her up the front porch to the door. She fumbled in her jacket pocket searching for her keys and shakily unlocked the door.
Galen led the way inside and closed the door firmly. He took Kate’s hand again and brought her into the sitting room. “You’re still shaking,” he mumbled. “I’ll make some tea, maybe I should put the fire on…”
“It's August,” said Kate numbly as Galen wandered aimlessly around the room. “And I don’t want any tea.” She took a deep breath and looked steadily at Galen. “I would like an explanation though.”
Galen looked at the woman he loved in wonder. She did deserve some kind of explanation, especially with the number of laws they had just violated. It was amazing how quickly one got used to one’s position, the acting in secret, that it was easy to forget others did not have that same experience. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Galen said at last, finally sitting down and extracting the papers he had poached from the office.
Kate glared at him. “Galen, please, I’m tired of all the secrets. Just trust me for once.” She removed the vials of liquid, placing them next to the papers. “What we just did was illegal, wasn’t it? What’s so important to risk that?”
Galen sighed, lost in thought. Yes, she did deserve an explanation, but he couldn’t put her in danger like that. “National security,” he replied in a monotone, tired of all the hiding behind that excuse. “I’m sorry, I wish I could tell you. But I told you when we first started going out, there are some things I’m not allowed to talk about.”
“No,” said Kate resolutely, “you’re not giving me that excuse, not after tonight. Galen, I am so tired of having to pretend that I don’t know what’s going on for your sake, for your precious ‘National Security’. I want the truth.”
“Kate, I love you, and would never let anyone harm you. So please, just trust me on this,” he said firmly, again remembering the conversation he had with Tash several nights before. “Don’t go down doors you’ll regret opening later. There are some things you’re better off not knowing.”
Kate sighed angrily and turned away. After a moment she faced Galen again and shook her head in dismal regret. “But I want to know. If it affects you, us, then I want to know, I deserve to know. If you love me, you should trust me.”
Although he did not like the idea, he could see only one way to protect her. He had no choice but to lie. "You're right. We believe someone is attempting to deliberatly contaminate the supply of flu shots, to cause an epidemic of influenza. Why or who is behind it, we don't know."
Kate looked deeply into Galen’s eyes as he spoke. When he finished she laughed slightly to herself and looked away. “You’re lying, AGAIN. What is wrong with you Galen?”
“Kate, please,” said Galen softly, trying to take her hand in his. “I’m telling you the truth…”
“STOP LYING TO ME!” Kate cried in absolute unrestrained anger, ripping her hand free from his. “Do you know your trouble Galen? You’ve been lying for so long that you don’t know HOW to tell the truth any more!”
Galen looked away sharply as the ceiling lamp tinkled slightly and several objects on the mantelpiece began to rattle as though a mild earthquake had just occurred. “Kate, please, I’m doing this for us. I don’t want to lose you” he insisted, holding her tightly around the shoulders.
Kate shook her head again “I can’t… I can’t carry on like this any more Galen, I won’t! If you won’t tell me then there isn’t a future for us. There can’t be! This thing, this secret of yours will tear us apart.”
Galen gritted his teeth, his hold on her tightening. “I am only trying to protect you!”
“Protect me from WHAT? From WHO?” she cried, breaking free. She could barely keep a handle on her emotions; part of her wanted to cry while another was so angry she could hardly think straight.
“I can’t tell you!” Galen all but wept. “I can’t tell you…” he repeated again dejectedly sinking into the couch, holding his head in his hands.
Kate paced the length of the room in frustration. “Just tell me, just tell me, please just tell me Galen,” she repeated anxiously while wiping at her tears. Finally she stopped, resting her head against the cold marble of the fireplace.
“I need you to understand,” said Galen imploringly.
Kate let Galen’s words wash over her; she couldn’t hear anything apart from the pounding in her head. She gripped the frigid stone tightly in her hands until her knuckles were almost the same colour as the pallid material. “I don’t understand,” she whispered quietly.
She pushed herself up from the mantle and in one smooth motion she swept the entire contents of the shelf over on to the floor. Several small trinkets, picture frames and a vase all shattered on the hard wooden floor. “I DON’T understand!” she cried painfully, wiping at the fresh tears that flooded her cheeks.
Galen wanted desperately to go over to Kate, hold her close and tell her everything would be okay, but something about the look on her face told him that would not be wise. More than anything, he wanted to tell her the truth, but was afraid to do so. He stared at the collection of pieces on the floor as he tried to find the words to answer her with. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking.
Something jumped out at him. It looked like a wire. He walked over to the shattered remnants of a vase, moving several chipped pieces aside. “What are you doing now?” Kate hissed, with a puzzled look on her face. He picked up a small device, with several wires clearly visible. “What is that?” she asked. By way of answer, Galen dropped it on the ground and proceeded to crush it under his shoe.
It didn’t matter if he said anything or not now, he knew. They had to know about the two of them, though he didn’t know for how long. Kate was about to ask the question again when he looked up at her with a sorrowful look in his eyes. “Kate, I’m sorry. I should have told you earlier, but I wanted to protect you. Now, it seems they already know.”
Kate could not believe what she was hearing. Just once, she wanted a straight answer. “WHO? What have you been hiding?”
Galen sighed, knowing there was no way to avoid this. He really should have said something earlier. “There’s something I need to tell you, Kate.” She stared daggers into his chest at such a statement of obvious truth. “But not here. They’re listening to us. We have to go. Now.” Kate’s expression showed just how angry she was as she followed him to the car silently with clenched fists.
The Truth is Out There...
Galen’s Car, Location Fluid
Friday, 26 August 2005
6:40am
Kate gazed out of the window into the gradually lightening streets as Galen drove. They sat in complete silence, neither one quite sure what to say. Galen focused on the road ahead, only breaking his concentration momentarily to steal a glance at Kate; her silence was more unnerving than her anger had been earlier. He felt that she should be angry and he was prepared for that. What he wasn't prepared for was this terrible, detached silence.
He stifled a tired sigh and pulled the car over on to the edge of the road and turned the engine off. After a long uncomfortable silence Galen turned to Kate, touching her arm gently. "Kate, we have to talk about this."
Kate turned in her seat to face Galen, "So now you want to talk. Just tell me what we're doing here."
Galen paused in thought for a long moment, unsure of exactly what to tell her first. Then he decided it would be best to get the cautions out of the way. “I’m afraid both of our lives may now be in danger,” he told her. “That thing I crushed back there was a piece of rather sophisticated electronic surveillance equipment. There’s something you need to know about me, but…. Kate, you have to promise me. You can’t tell this to anyone. If the wrong person found out, I might not be able to protect you.”
“Surveillance equipment?” Kate echoed in confusion, “I don’t understand, wh-what, what’s going on?”
“You have to promise me,” repeated Galen, “You can’t tell this to anybody.”
Kate nodded in agreement although she still looked puzzled, “I promise.”
“What’s going on could take a while to explain,” replied Galen. “You have to understand, the government has known about the occult for a long time. Some time in the late 40's, an internal intelligence agency was established to determine the extent of the threat it posed to national security, and also to conceal its existence and intervene where deemed necessary. My… position with the FBI is a cover. I’m really a member of a group called Majestic 12.”
“Majestic 12?” Kate frowned, looking away in confusion. “What does that mean?”
Galen swallowed hard before continuing. “It doesn’t have a specific meaning, not any more. But we are classified at a level above top secret. Kate, you have to understand. People have been terminated in order to ensure that the agency remains a secret.”
Kate turned away in horror, a look of shock painted across her face; she remained silent for a moment. “But… what about the police, the laws-“
“The laws protect us in the name of national security,” he said before she could finish the objection. “We may as well be the secret government the conspiracy theorists rant on about.”
“I don’t believe this,” said Kate in distress. “So, you work for Majestic, not the FBI… you’ve been lying all this time, about everything!” Kate fumbled with the door handle of the car and stumbled out.
Galen quickly exited the car also, “Kate, Kate! Where are you going? Kate!”
“No, I- I need…” Kate shut the car door and leaned against it breathing in the cool morning air. “Danger, you said our lives were in danger…”
“Yes, that’s true,” he said, moving closer to her and lowering his voice. “I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you earlier, but you have no idea about the people we are dealing with. Majestic 12 is the only agency that would have an interest in bugging your home. The truth is I really have been working to expose a black project, one that was supposed to have been terminated after the failure of the Initiative five years ago. The supporters of that project are the only ones who could have done this without my knowing about it.” He realised that wasn’t strictly true: internal security could do it as well. “My life is in danger if they find out what I’ve been doing. And now, your life is in danger too.”
“But why? Why would they want to kill me, I don’t know anything!”
Galen could see Kate was distressed. Her hands were shaking again and she could barely gather the strength to stand unsupported. He felt sick inside that he had reduced her to this fearful state after all that she had already been through. “You know enough for them to consider you a risk.”
Kate shook her head in disbelief, looking steadily into Galen’s eyes. Carefully he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, stroking the back of her head soothingly. For a moment he thought everything would be all right, he could hold Kate tightly and Majestic would take care of itself. His brief moment of content was soon shattered as Kate began to slowly push him away.
“No, no…” she murmured, “I can’t… I, I have to go,” she continued to frown in confusion as she stumbled across the frozen grass, “I have to go home…”
Galen caught up with her and grabbed her tightly by the shoulders. “Haven’t you heard anything that I said? You can’t go home. Neither can I. Somehow, somewhere along the line the agency bugged your house, and possibly my place too. Everything we have ever said or done will have been listened to. Every time we talked, ate dinner, watched a movie… made love, they heard it all.”
Kate’s body went rigid as Galen’s words began to sink in. “But, but why? If these are people from your own agency why are they spying on us?”
“Internal politics,” he said without hesitation, pausing for a moment in thought. “Kate, the people in security give bona fide paranoids like myself a bad name. They’re notoriously suspicious about everything and everyone! That’s why relationships between agents and outsiders are frowned upon, never mind the fact that you’re a telepath! That’s why I’ve been doing my best to hide it from them. If they found out I was in love with a telepath, it would be enough reason for them to come after you.”
Kate broke free from his hold on her; she looked at him with accusing eyes. “Is that how you see me? As an ‘outsider’? Some dangerous telepathic witch that might discover your state secrets?”
“No, No!” insisted Galen desperately. “I love you, that’s why I couldn’t break it off with you, despite the warnings…”
Kate could barely hide her disgust. “Warnings? You’ve been getting warnings to stay away from me?”
“More like… not-so-friendly advice. But none of that mattered to me. All I cared about was you.” Galen looked at Kate with a pleading look in his eyes. “Please, I’m sorry. I know that you’re hurt and angry and I wanted to tell you this earlier, but I couldn’t. I… if I did, I might as well be pulling the trigger myself. Please Kate, please forgive me.”
“First you ask me to understand and now you want my forgiveness?” Kate laughed hollowly. “You are unbelievable Galen, truly unbelievable! You have had countless times to tell me, but you’ve been lying to me since the day we first met! How am I supposed to trust you again after this?”
“Kate, I had no choice,” he said desperately. “Do you think I enjoyed it? I love you, so how could I put your life in danger like that, knowing what kind of people… knowing what they’d do to you? If you said the wrong thing to the wrong person, do you know what would happen? Let me tell you something about the kind of people you’re dealing with. That free clinic we lifted the formula from? Last year, a group of children were inoculated against the flu. What they really received was an experimental formula intended to force the body to produce certain enzymes found in some species of demon. Kate, every one of those children died, and do you think they cared? I can tell you how much that meant to them because that same project is still continuing.”
“And these are the people you work for? The kinds of people you work with…” Kate’s eyes were suddenly filled with comprehension. “Oh my god… Oh my god! Oh my god, I’ve been so stupid! Why couldn’t I see it before? It was all there… that night I told you I was in love with you, and you were so overcome with guilt… And that day I returned to L.A. and turned up at your office, you couldn’t get me out of there fast enough…” Kate paused for awhile, leaning back against the car and closed her eyes. Finally she spoke again. “What are you going to do?”
Galen thought hard about that question. There was one man he definitely had to ask a great many questions of. “There’s not much I can do,” he finally said. “Look, there’s a faction trying to gain power in the organisation, one that should hopefully put a stop to the black projects. Then… I don’t know. My hands aren’t exactly clean, nobody can stay in MJ12 long and remain that way.” He stood in thought for a long moment, realising the decision had been effectively made for him the moment he began dating her. No, the moment he realised how much he was in love with her. But how could she want to remain with him after this? “Some powerful people will owe me a favour or two after this is all done. I’m thinking of resigning.”
“Please, don’t put yourself out of a job on my account,” said Kate sharply.
“Kate, please, don’t…” begged Galen desperately, “I can’t do this without you.”
“You’re going to have to,” said Kate, her firm expression breaking down into tears. “I can’t even look at you right now.”
Galen shook his head determinedly; “I can’t let you go, you could be in danger.”
“Only because you put me there!” cried Kate painfully. “That should have been my choice and you made it for me!”
“I knew! I knew the truth would drive you from me,” pleaded Galen weakly, “That’s why I didn’t tell you…”
“Your lies drove me from you Galen. I’ve had enough lies and deception to last a lifetime; I thought I could at least expect the truth from you.”
“I couldn’t risk losing you…” he moaned quietly.
“Well you lost me anyway.” Kate looked away at the frozen horizon as the sun steadily made its way up into the sky. “I’m tired.”
Galen felt despair wash over him at hearing those words. His legs felt numb, and it was difficult to even move. “Kate, I…” he stammered.
“Don’t say it,” she said pleadingly.
He sighed in resignation. "All right, I understand you. You need some time. Can I at least give you a ride somewhere?"
Kate hesitated before nodding reluctantly. She was trying so hard not to cry. All she wanted was some time to herself. “I’ll need some of my things first,” she began, “but I, I think…” Kate was quickly trying to think of some place she could stay. She at once thought of her two best friends here in L.A. – Daye and Jess. She immediately rejected both of those possibilities – Jessica was way too busy with Will and Ellie, and Daye… Daye had problems of her own. Kate sighed, that didn’t leave anywhere else other than Poplar Avenue. “I could stay with Tash…”
“I want you to be safe,” said Galen firmly.
“Then that’s as far away from you as possible.” Kate looked away. She couldn’t bear to see the hurt in Galen’s eyes. “My friends will look after me, you don’t need to worry.”
Galen sighed tiredly, “Fine.”
He numbly opened the car door and after a moment’s hesitation Kate reluctantly climbed in the seat next to him. He drove her back to her house in a daze, neither of them saying anything. While she was inside, he waited for her in the car, completely unable to either move or think. The trip to Poplar was silent as well. He got out of the car and helped get her things out of the trunk.
“Just go,” Kate said at last, putting her things down on the step. “Please, just go.”
Still he couldn’t find any words to say as he got back into the car and drove away. Shortly he found himself at a 7-11. The food wasn’t exactly the best, but he was hungry so the sandwich and bag of chips would have to do. A paper and cup of coffee joined the two items on the counter.
“Will that be all?” the clerk asked as he rang up the items.
The pain finally began to subside as the realisation hit him. He had lost her. There really would be no point to leaving now. “A pack of Salems,” he said mechanically, reaching for his wallet.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
“The Best Laid Sam Gone Awry”
Previously On LA By Night:
· An old man on a park bench shows Sam a copy of Die Angst-Idee. Sam responds with his own book, Of Mice and Men.
· Sam and Kimmie head out to After Dark (A.D.)
· Tash suspects that vampires are feeding on Sam.
· Taylor Hanson dies during an impromptu rooftop concert over Hope Street.
· Daye meets Brother Sam in a dream and discovers that they are to bring Mother Mariah into the world.
· Sex-minded Tash lays Sam in the penthouse.
· Upon seeing the cross around his neck, Sam realizes he’s just had sex with Tash.
· Sam screams and runs awry. . .
Friday August 26, 2005. 5:05 AM.
“You,” Ike said. He stuck his finger in Zac’s shoulder. Zac continued rocking back and forth in yesterday’s clothes, his shoeless feet on the sofa, his knees bent, his chin resting on them, and Moby Dick propped under his chin. The lamplight skid over his damp cheeks. Technically, this was morning, but it felt like night. For five days the curtains had been closed.
Ike tightened the belt around his robe and spoke again. “Snap out of it.”
“I can’t believe he’s dead.”
“I can’t believe we’re alive,” Ike said. “Count your blessings.”
Upon returning from the hospital last Sunday, Zac insisted of the hotel clerk that they be issued a space on the first floor. Ike didn’t argue the 10-story room change, but he feared that, ever since the tornado took Taylor away, his remaining brother might be developing acrophobia. But this wasn’t the issue at hand.
“Any idea about who that guy is in the bathtub?” Ike said, listening for the tuneless humming. It had died down for the time being. “I’m trying to be calm about this.”
Zac’s purple eyelids rose once, and he cleared his throat of phlegm. “I'd forgot about him,” he said. “His name’s Lenny. I said he could come in and use our shower. He’s still here?”
“You invited a stranger into our suite, are you nuts? I was sleeping down the hall. What if he’s Jeffrey Dahmer?”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds. He’s okay. He likes books. He likes...Tay’s books.”
Tay had always traveled with his literature. Ike glanced at the long shelf where he’d arranged them when they first checked in a week ago. They were all gone.
“Don't bother looking," Zac said. "I threw them out."
“Why would you do that?”
“I kept Moby Dick. But the rest.... Look, I can't deal with Tay’s stuff all over the place. I dropped them in one of the dumpsters out behind the hotel.”
“I wish you’d bothered to ask me. To ask Mom. Did it occur to you that Mom and Dad might want his things mailed home?”
“I’m sorry, ‘kay?”
Ike sighed heavily. Then he said, “So this guy in our bathroom. Did he tell you to throw out Tay’s books?”
“It’s not like that. He was sleeping in the dumpster when I hucked the bag in. Landed right on top of him. He jumped straight up, scared the beejeebies out of me. But he wasn’t mad, he ripped into the trash bag and went through the books like they were day-old donuts. I tried to give him some food money, but all he wanted was a book. That's how he got that Steinbeck one, did you see it? He put it up against his face—just like this—and he pet the pages like this, like they were soft and furry. That’s why I call him Lenny.”
Ike didn’t like the idea of some “loony tunes” humming in their bathroom. He’d woken up to it, a haunting echo, underscored by the friction of human flesh scooting over smooth acrylic tub. Ike had walked in to catch him pulling dry soap over his bare hips. The sudden intrusion caused the stranger to drop the bar. “He looked more like a George to me,” Ike said, fighting an annoyance he couldn’t quite identify, “than a Lenny.”
“Trust me. He’s not a George.”
“He reminded me of Tarzan sitting there in his birthday suit, and then you brought up Of Mice and Men. It was meant as a double-entendre: ‘George of the Jungle’…‘George and Lenny.’ You should have called him George.”
Or Squiggy.
“You obviously haven’t talked to him,” Zac said. “I’ll show you.” He reached for his shoes.
Ike didn't like this one bit.
The bathroom was still bright white to the bloodshot eye. The fan in the ceiling purred over the sink, and to its rhythm the brawny man hugged his legs and rocked side to side, similar to how Zac had been mindlessly rocking on the couch. Lenny held Tay's paperback novel with remarkable austerity.
“Hey, Beavis,” Ike said—without humor. “You don’t have any water for your bath, genius. How are you supposed to make suds?”
Lenny glanced over, his bottom lip shaking, and spoke with the inflection of a country boy. “I don’t need no nice water in my bathtub.” His skin was white and clean, though streaked with dry, chalky soap.
“Look at his complexion,” Zac said off the back of his hand. “This guy isn’t homeless, look’it him. I feel sorry for him.”
“An innocent face doesn’t make an innocent or a helpless man,” Ike whispered back. “You should put him back where you found him."
“All I know is he’s new to the streets, and it’s our duty to help him.”
“Our only duty is to our own lives.”
“Think of us as his guardian angels. Look at that baby-waby face he’s got. Ain’t he cute?”
Lenny noticed that they were talking about him. “Zac?" he said. "Tell it again. Like you done before. Go on, Zac. Tell it.”
Ike hadn’t seen Zac smile since Saturday. But here, quite by surprise, his mouth curled, and his nose dipped forward to hide it. Ike himself smiled tersely at Zac's shyness, and listened as his little brother reacted.
“Tell what again, Lenny?” Zac asked in a volume that expanded to the ceiling, floor, and walls. He whispered to Ike, “Check this out, he told me everything last night, but he acts like he can’t remember his own story. It’s a psychoanalyst’s nightmare.”
“Tell me how, Zac, how it’s gonna be.”
“Okay, Lenny, if you insist. One of these days you won’t need to be a janitor anymore. You’ll collect your stake and move out of this town. You’ll go home to Oregon to live with your mom and dad.” The big oaf smiled at that. “For you, life is going to be so easy. Your dad will finally admit to being happy you were born. He’ll invite all his accountant friends over for Thanksgiving football, but he won’t make you leave the room like he used to. He’ll make you the star quarterback, and announce in front of everybody how much he loves you. You’ll be living large then, you bet.”
“What else? What else?”
“He’ll say, um—what was it?” Zac looked away for a moment. It came to him. “He’ll say, ‘That boy of mine is a genius. For the first time, I’m glad I talked Sandy out of having an abortion. He’s respectable, that boy of mine, that’s what he is.’”
Lenny guffawed and slapped the basin of the tub. “Go on. Keep tellin'."
Ike couldn’t get his eyebrows to relax at this freak show. Lenny was some kind of mental retard, except there was no stupor in his eyes. In the overly bright bathroom, they swirled like black holes with event horizons of Pacific blue and yellow spume.
Zac adopted a booming fatherly voice. “’Listen up, everyone. My son is the best thing that ever happened to this world. I am proud to be his father. He’s got purpose, I’d bet my life on it.’”
“Because the universe needs me,” Lenny said. His breathing sped up. He held his Steinbeck novel tightly off the tip of his chin, practically a Bible-thumper. They used to get Bible-thumpers all the time back in Tulsa. Here on the west coast, however, the Jesus fanatics were slightly fewer and proportionately freakier. “Now tell the part about Bunny now, okay, Zac? Now do that part now.”
“Give me a minute to remember how it went.”
Zac whispered, “Lenny was involved with a girl named Bunny.” Ike nodded. “He told himself he didn’t love her, but as far as I can tell, that changed as soon as he went to bed with his martial arts instructor.”
“He what? Why?”
“Don’t ask me,” Zac said, jutting his arms in a stiff and robotic parody. “‘I'm only a droid and not very knowledgeable about such things.' I'm just an interpeter.”
“'Bunny.' Is that some kind of bimbo name? Good Lord, is she a hooker? Bet she is. Remember that Sean Penn movie, Sam I Am?”
“I don’t think the Sean Penn or the good Lord have anything to do with this guy.”
“Go on, tell me,” Lenny said fitfully. “Just like you always done.” He made it sound as though Zac had been telling this story for years.
“Bunny loves you,” Zac said. “And you love her. And you will get to tend to her needs someday.”
“Now tell about the ‘hoot and hell’ part.”
“Sure. Some people get married and don’t care a hoot or a hell about each other. Marriage vows don’t mean nuthin’ to most people. But not for you and Bunny.”
“Because?”
“Because you’ve got her—”
“And she’s got me!”
“And she’s got you. Right. Very good, Lenny.”
Lenny’s gut-laugh pierced the air and echoed viciously. “Tell about Kimmie."
“Kimmie?” Ike asked, soothing his eardrum with an index finger.
“Apparently,” Zac said, “he's also in love with someone named Kimmie. I don’t know if she’s the same person as Bunny or a different girl altogether. I think she’s different.”
“Kimmie won’t hurt me,” Lenny said, “she won’t bite my neck never no more.”
Ike couldn't deal with the tediousness. “Uh, Lenny,” he said, “if you know this story all by heart, why don’t you tell it yourself?”
The mere mention of such a proposition scared Lenny. “But it ain’t the same if I tell it. Zac’s got to tell it. Zac, tell him that you got to tell it, tell him.”
“Okay,” Zac said. “Here we go. Ready?” Lenny grabbed his legs and smiled, forward and back, forward and back. “Kimmie won’t bite your neck with her A.D. friends no more…” Quickly he whispered to Ike that A.D. probably stood for attention deficit. “And she will leave Los Angeles with you. You and Kimmie and Bunny will live happily ever after in Oregon with your parents. And you’ll have a litter of kids, and the oldest will be named Max.”
What was this, polygamy? Lenny sounded worse than the average Oklahoma Bible-thumper—he was practically a gosh-darn Mormon.
“All your best-laid dreams will come true," Zac said. "Every last one of them.”
“Because?” Lenny said.
“Because.... Oh, right. Because Mother Mary loves you.”
Lenny grit his teeth and shook his head. He said, “Be-cause?”
“Because Mother ‘Mariah’—is her name—loves you. She is going to make Heaven on Earth. And you and Bunny and Kimmie and your freaky, ill-begotten varmints will all get to live in the new world. End of story.” Zac exhaled. “Jeez, Ike. That’s like the third time I’ve had to tell him that story. I’ve only known him for seven hours.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“If you don't keep him occupied, he starts singing. The first time I left him alone, he sang a song about Kimmie, and his neck started bleeding.”
Ike spotted multiple red dots on the guy’s shoulder. There were three or four dried snail-trails having run toward his sternum. This Kimmie and her friends must be real sickies. Probably Goths or some of those vampire wannabes. No wonder Lenny was emotionally disturbed if they've been biting his neck. It was rape, is what it was.
“Not a bad voice, though,” Zac said, “for a fruit loop.”
“Zac?” Lenny said.
“Yes, Lenny?”
“Aren’t you…aren’t you going to give me a talking to?”
“Why? What for?”
“For what I done. For what I done to Tash.”
Zac didn't seem to remember who this Tash was. But Lenny knew, and he looked so sad.
“Well ain’t ya?" he said. "‘Cuz I done a bad thing.”
“Oh, right," Zac said. "The karate instructor you slept with.”
Lenny diddled with the edges of the book. “I told her no. I told her we couldn’t or else Hesch might not like it. I told her, but she done wouldn’t stop. Kimmie shouldn’t ought to have kissed me like that.”
“Is it Kimmie or Tash?” uttered Ike.
Zac shrugged. “He’s confused. Tash, Kimmie, Bunny, whatever, it’s all the same. At least he hasn’t mentioned passing through a solid door this time.”
A solid door? What a nutcase this Lenny must be—
“She was bad,” Lenny said, “I told her, ‘You better let me out, Tash, or you gonna get me into trouble.’ And she said, ‘You’re a real man.’ And I said, ‘You don’t get me in no trouble or I won’t get to tend them rabbits. I won’t get to be Dad to Thumper.’”
Ike couldn’t take any more nonsense, but Zac failed to provide clear answers about what was going on with this stranger named Lenny. They wondered which they should do: take him to the nuthouse…or out to the dumpsters, put a gun to the back of his head, and shoot him out of his insanity.
“Victor won’t let me train with Tash no more,” Lenny said. “’Cause we done a bad thing. Go ahead, George. Go on. Tell me. Give me a talking to. Like you done before."
[Editor’s Synopsis: Ike Hanson, five days since the death of his brother Tay, discovers that Zac has invited a homeless person to use the bathtub in their hotel suite.]
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Tuesday, 23rd August 2005 – 6pm
Tash’s heart thudded in her chest when she heard the door begin to open again. She was growing so weak, she knew that one more session with that… thing, whatever it was, would finish her off. Then she saw Victor, her beloved Victor, enter the room and her heart soared with joy.
But something wasn’t right. A small whimper escaped past her gag and a single tear traced its way down her cheek. The aura… it was all wrong. Nearly all the black was missing. This couldn’t be her Victor; it must be another double. Her mind screamed denial, *Noooooo! Not Victor, too!*
The creature seemed to be damaged somehow, though. It moved slowly and all but collapsed next to her. *Heh, Victor's given you a run for your money, at least. Serves you right you... whatever the hell you are,* Tash thought furiously.
Victor's mind was cloudy and disoriented. *Hardly enough energy to keep even that going.* He could see with unblinking eyes the anger in Tash's eyes. What was wrong? *WHAT IS WRONG?* he thought at her.
Spots swum in his vision from the effort. Like his slow motion walk here this would be much the same. Pace. *Hear me, Tash. I love you and can't help you. I am drained of energy. I have to feed... energy. I don't know where it will come from... help me!*
He could feel a burning sensation behind his eyes that refused to go away. The Slime, the micro machinery that ran his body, was beginning to eat itself.
Tash frowned. Something was cutting through the pain and fury she felt. Love - and fear. Realisation dawned. Somehow Victor had managed to escape from his double. But was weak, like her. *Hmph, at least he got to keep his damn clothes.*
She shuffled her bound body the few inches separating them and flipped painfully over to her side, offering her bound arms to him. A feeling of frustration washed over her from Victor, and she quailed. *God, not even that much energy?*
The only thing fuelling her on now was determination. She was damned if she was going to let some weird clone monster get her when she'd survived so much else. And now that it seemed to have got Victor too, she was feeling like an enraged mother bear. She felt around behind her, until she found what she was after. *Ah, there! A nice, sharp spike.* The tortured muscles in her shoulders protested violently at the movement, but Tash gritted her teeth against the agony and slowly sawed her arms up and down against Victor's spines. Finally, after what seemed like hours of torment, she felt the rope begin to give way.
Victor was thinking at her. She barely had the energy to move, but she opened her mind enough to catch his words. *Good girl! That's it!* Encouraged, she continued sawing until the rope joining her wrists to her ankles was freed. Fresh pain lanced through her thighs and her shoulders as muscles that had been held taut for a day and a half finally relaxed. The initial sensation was so intense Tash saw spots swimming before her eyes. *No time to waste, can't stop now.*
*That's my Tash,* came the thought from Victor.
Her screaming muscles felt like lead when she tried to move them, but somehow she managed to flip her legs through her arms to bring her still-bound wrists in front of her. Rolling back to face Victor, she tugged at the gag and pulled it free. The cloth ripped painfully from her mouth, her mucus membranes completely dried out. She opened her mouth to speak, but all she could utter was a croak.
Victor stared at her helplessly, unable to move or speak. *Goddam,* thought Tash. *Now what the fuck do we do?* She ran her dry tongue around her mouth, feeling the faint beginnings of moisture returning. "Vi...trrr." Tash lifted her wrists to gently touch his face with her fingertips. She swallowed, lubricating her parched throat. "Not much here," she rasped, "but take. Take it."
Victor's eyes slowly moved to look at hers. A single tear welled up and dripped down his cheek. He blinked in slow motion. He closed his eyes and with every erg of energy he could muster he opened himself to receive her. He felt every nerve in his body ignite. Like revving an engine with no oil he was doing terrible damage to himself by pushing harder.
Tash was leaning on his chest and he could feel her soul. But it was incomplete. Her... self was incomplete. He was afraid to touch her for fear of losing her. She was like a wisp of steam that would dissipate if disturbed. He had started and was afraid that if he stopped that he might not be able to resume. *Hang on. Please hang on Tash!*
Victor was afraid to reach into her and touch her soul, but he thought there might be another way. He opened himself to be absorbed into her. To possess her. He would rather leave this reality as a ghost than a puddle of slime or a charred corpse. *Hang onto me Tash!*
Tash opened her mind as she saw what Victor was doing. His essence flowed into her. It was both like and unlike the time that he had merged with her in February. Then it had been a battle as three strong souls occupied her body. This time there were but two souls, and both were weak. Drained. Fragile. Victor's soul settled into the gaps in her own. They merged and melded, and Tash's innards twisted at the sensation.
New strength flowed into their limbs and they were finally able to straighten out their contorted legs. They rose to a sitting position. The reason for Tash's strange behaviour since yesterday was suddenly clear to Victor, as he settled into her crevices. He could see her memory of coming home on Monday morning and seeing herself. Her shock, which lasted just long enough for the double to knock her out. Waking up to see herself hovering over her...
And Tash could see Victor's memory of the G'rnathan Battle Fiend at his door. Vrithetek's delight as he saw a way out of his shared accommodation with Victor. Departing from Victor, leaving him a weakened shell with barely enough energy to sustain him this long...
*We have to find him,* Tash thought. *We have to find both of them,* came the gestalt voice of Tash and Victor.
They opened their hands and ropes tied tight snapped like string. Their feet sprang free with a flex of powerful legs. They rose and Victor saw his usual perspective of looking down from a height of nine feet. Tash's surprise was unexpected. Victor realized that they were neither her nor him. *We are different.* *What else do you suppose is different?*
Victor wasn't distinct, nor was Tash. They were echoes. Like the memories of being a child. *I was never a child. Sshhh! I am getting the hang of this.* They were new, but an extension of who they used to be. They turned to the mirror on the wall of the workout room and admired their huge form.
*I've got spikes... and look at those muscles! I'm all smooth - I have real skin. And breasts. We feel powerful.*
*Uh, she? He? Or it? I'm okay with 'she'. Name? Vrithetash? Ugh, no. Don't use his name. Vish? Vicash? No, I know. Vicasha. Perfect.*
Vicasha flexed her arms and rotated her tired shoulders, surveying her naked form in the mirror. *We're going to scare children, you know. Unless Kate can do another glamour fast, I don't think there's much we can do about that. Clothes, though? We'll fit mine… Victor's. So, what first? Hunt? Water first. Then food. Then we hunt.*
Increased speed of perception made normal motions seem like slow motion replays. Footsteps echoed like hammer falls in her ears. *Is it always like this? You learn to adjust.*
She walked down the stairs to her apartment pausing only to lock the workout room. As Vicasha removed the key from the lock she could see the scenes and memories imprinted into it laid before her in a tableau. She could select the memories she wanted to read or not. *Sweet.*
She strode down the stairs and ducked into the apartment. The scene was chaos.
Vicasha blinked at the devastation of her apartment. Tash's clothes lay strewn everywhere. A smashed coffee cup lay in the centre of a large brown puddle near the couch and a cold cup of abandoned coffee sat on the table. *What the...?* Victor's memories of Sorrow's confession came to the fore. *She did WHAT???*
Vicasha touched the shards of glass on the floor. The scene was there as it had been described. *That bitch.*
A pang of worry passed through her. *We can't tell Sorrow what has happened just yet. He could be next. A note perhaps.*
Vicasha grabbed a notepad from next to the phone and scribbled "Tristan," on the paper... then stopped. The handwriting was unrecognisable. Neither his or hers. *Sorrow will never accept this.*
Vicasha looked at the paper in despair. *But he has to be warned. We owe him that much. And God knows what else that thing was up to in my... Tash's... body. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.*
Tash's computer hummed and beeped as Vicasha turned it on. Large hands tapped out a short note. Sorrow, be careful. The creature you saw wasn't Tash, but something masquerading as her. It may be a shapeshifter or there may be other such creatures looking to duplicate you or Jade, so watch out for 'yourselves'. There’s nothing we can say to convince you of this, but we’d rather you had some warning. We’re going after whatever doubled us. Victor/Tash.
Vicasha sighed, *Not great, but it'll have to do.* She hit the 'print' button and folded the paper. Moving to the bedroom, she waded through the piles of Tash's discarded clothing to reach Victor's chest of drawers. Soon, a well-dressed nine-foot tall Amazonian with horns and spikes was guzzling down what food and drink was left in Tash’s fridge. Strangely, the contents seemed undisturbed from Tash’s last memory of them. *Maybe that thing snacks on life energy or something,* Vicasha shrugged.
As Vicasha moved around the apartment, she noted that the Tash clone must have been extremely careless. It had apparently touched almost everything with bare hands. *Holy crap! It wanted to bonk anything and everything.* She was able to pick among the images to determine that the last time the double had been in here was some time Monday evening. *So where has it been since then? I can't tell when it visited Tash. It's all blurry.*
Then Vicasha's hand brushed a belt left lying on the bed. The end was stained dark. *What the HELL?* She'd been so intent on getting images of the fake Tash, and there she was being enthusiastically beaten by Victor. And there was the memory, held by the part of Vicasha that was Victor.
*Victor! What the fuck???*
*We didn't know and Victor didn't understand why, but I am new to this.*
*But… but you know I’d never want anything so perverse. What were you thinking?*
Strength drained from Vicasha's limbs and her perceptions dulled to human levels.
*Tash. Hold on...remember what we have.*
The entwined tendrils of the two souls began to separate. Tash could no longer feel Victor's thoughts in the same way. Some instinct told her that if she grabbed at the retreating essence, she would lose it. Instead, she relaxed, calmed her thoughts. Pushed that ugly image of herself - Tash - the fake Tash - gasping in pleasure as Victor flicked the belt over her tender flesh.
But there. Yes. It had disturbed him. Greatly. *And you had to fight Vrithetek. He wanted to go harder. We wouldn't let him, though.*
*I can see the difference now. We usually touch and caress, but she put the belt between us. She knew Victor would know.*
*Sam,* she thought as one of the double's impressions passed to her. She closed her eyes and reached out to the building. Sam was not here. He was gone.
*Something happened at the penthouse door. Something... Well, whatever happened up there, that creature isn't in this building. We need to find it. Was it the same one that posed as Vrithetek? Or a different one, do we think?*
The emanations from Victor's office across the hall were slightly different from those in the flat. But the creature seemed able to mimic auras as well as bodies. *Hmm, unknown. Assume the worst. There's more than one and they can shapechange.*
Vicasha stalked into the hallway and inhaled the odors that were still perceptible to her senses. She moved at a brisk walk that became a jog as she tracked the scent of the duplicate Tash.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
***Friday 26th August, 2005…8:30am***
Reah stood stiffly by the kitchen bench, chewing nervously at her nails. She stalked out into the lounge to the couch side…paused…then stalked back again, turning a few uncertain circles by the bench looking over her shoulder for any notes she had to have missed.
Back stiffened, her right nails now nervously tapped on the bench while she began chewing on her left thumbnail.
A weak sun bled through the blinds, but she barely took note of their plea to be opened fully and its tempt for her to gaze into the lit up street framed by the mouth of the alley.
Instead she screamed through gritted teeth and threw her nearby keys in frustration. They crashed into the far wall and clanged helplessly to the floor.
Reah gathered herself into a small ball and lowered herself to the floor, rocking back into the corner of the cupboards.
Sam still wasn’t back home and she was just a tad worried by this point. He’d left on Tuesday and she hadn’t seen him since. Unwelcome thoughts built on themselves in her head, ‘death by vampire while he was trying to be a hero’ being the most prominent.
*Sam dead!* She couldn’t have let her guard down again, especially for someone as innocent as Sam. Tears pooled in her eyes. He couldn’t, can’t be. Not again, she couldn’t live through it again. *He has to be alive. He is a grown man. Even Sam can leave for the occasional few days without notice. He can, he can! And that’s all it is! He’s gone on a little holiday and that’s how I’m treating it, because that’s what it is!*
She sniffed purposefully and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes then pushed herself back up off the floor and pulled herself straight by gripping the edge of the bench. She forced a determined smile to her face. "He’s fine."
After a moment, Reah began rummaging around the apartment in search of her phone and found it beneath a pile of clothes in her room. Unlocking it she scrolled down through the numbers until Natalia’s number emerged and pressed call.
She paced back out of her room waiting intently for the dial tone to cease and be replaced by her friend. Her thumb nail underwent chewing again.
"Mmm…ello?" croaked a voice.
"G’day! Nat?" At a confirming moan Reah continued, "Wanna go drinking?"
"What? It’s 8:30 in the morning!"
"Oh, right. Well, I didn’t mean right now!"
"Oh. Thank god!" She sighed a relieved laugh.
"You can at least have a shower and brekki first!"
Silence.
"Hello?"
"Mmyeah! I’m still here."
"So did you want to? Ring Hayden, Jay and Simon too!" she added eagerly.
"Um…Reah?
"Yeah."
"It’s a little early for me to go drinking now…"
"Ah!"
"But tonight’d be great! I actually left a message on your cell phone asking you, too."
Reah tilted her head quizzically, not that Nat could see it. "Really?" She looked at her mobile: *NatsTheBest…* "Doesn’t say it on my screen…. By the way, love the name you entered in my phone." She smiled.
"Hehe. Yeah well, I am! And I did leave a message. You should check them once in a while!"
"K. I’ll take a note of that." She paused. "So drinking. Yes?"
"Mmyeah. Nine?"
"Five!"
"Seven."
"Six!"
"Fine!" She sighed tiredly. "Need a lift?"
"Uh, yeah. Could be good. I plan on getting quite hammered." She smiled nervously. She needed something to distract her from worrying.
"Cool!" She yawned. "See you at seven then!"
"Six."
"Heh, I know. Just checking. See ya!"
"Bye!"
She pressed end and stared a moment longer at her mobile, considering. "May as well!" She scrolled back down through her phone book and pressed call on ‘Voice Mail’.
"You have... six... new voice messages:
"Message received, 24th July at 5:43pm:
"Reah it’s Joe. What the hell is thi…
"Message deleted. Message received, 5th August at 10:33am:
"Miss Reanna Kossinton. The CD you ordered has come in so just drop in any time now to pick it up." *Well whaddya know! They did call! And I did acuse that poor trainee for no good reason then.* She grinned.
"To replay message press…. Message deleted. Message received, 8th August at 12 o’clock pm:
"Reah ya slack ass! I’m not paying you to sleep on our second day of business! Get your ass herenow! Also, if…
"Message deleted. Message received, 9th August at 11:53am:
"Just checking to see if my package has arrived yet. Make sure you don’t lose it or you dead!
"Message deleted. Message received, 19th August at 3:17pm:
"Reah, it’s Joe. I remembered where I know Paul from. He worked in the Beazor Complex. He was the guy that shot you, remember?" Reah stood there frozen. *How could I forget?* She glared through the wall. "Anyway. I don’t know if the Beazor’s still there. I never dealt directly with them at the venue, so I don’t know where it is. But that’s where he’s from. The Beazor.
"To replay message, press one. To keep press five. To delete press three."
Reah stood there unmoving. *The Beazor?* She’d never heard of it before. One thing was for certain now though, she needed to find more information on where it was.
Her mobile began to repeat itself. She pressed five.
"Message kept. Message received, 25th August at 4:31pm:
"Hey Reah it’s Nat."
"Hi Reeeeaaaaaaah!"
"Hehe, that was Hayden. Look, we’re going out tomorrow night so we thought we’d give you a ring and we could show you more of the great night life! Plus we love your accent. It amuses us." Laughter rose in the background.
"So yeah! Just give us a call back when you get this message. C’ya!"
"To re…. Message deleted. There are no more messages."
Reah hung up her mobile and placed it quietly back on the bench.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
London 18:30 August 26th
Early evening sunlight streamed into Alistair's office, seeming to set the oaken panelling afire. Alistair himself stood the by drinks cabinet, pouring brandy into a snifter. He turned to his aide who sat nervously in front of the desk and asked, "Would you like a drink?"
The aide glanced at the decanter in Alistair's hand and shook his head. "No... Thank you, sir."
Alistair shrugged and returned to sit behind his desk. He settled back into his chair and slowly swirled the brandy in its glass. "So, L.A?"
"I've gone over our agent's report and I concur with her conclusions. The incident at the mall is a matter of record and her description of the severity of his injuries is commensurate with what witness reports we have been able to access. On that basis alone, her initial intervention was necessary to keep the operation on track."
"And her other actions?"
"Again, in the best interest of the operation. His relationship with his brother was a very close one. Had she not suppressed it during the healing, he would certainly have given Subject 21 unequivocal reasons to act. Subject 21's connection to the demon would not have come to light and the operation would have failed."
"The incident at the mall, how is that being handled?"
"The local police are investigating, with assistance from the FBI. Majestic hasn't become involved at all. It appears the occult elements in the attack have been discounted. Essentially it appears to be being treated as a rather extreme example of criminal rivalry."
"And if the Ulle connection is discovered?"
"The usual, I would imagine, though Majestic may decide they want to make an example. A flame-thrower is a little extreme. Ulle would go along with it, of course, they understand the politics of such situations."
Alistair smiled. "Yes, indeed."
Alistair's aide nodded. "So, the operation is proceeding. We did need to give him a slight nudge. The emotional suppression won't last forever and Subject 21's connection to Vrithetek needs to be discovered before it fails. We used a separate source. He won't connect it to our agent."
"I see. Well, keep me informed. That will be all."
His aide rose and left the room. Alistair smiled as he sipped his brandy. *Things are progressing nicely.*
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
LA FBI Building – Galen’s Office
Friday, 26 August 2005
1:47 pm
Galen Eldridge was not having a good day by any stretch of the imagination.
The day started with him wandering into the office looking as though he was dragging a ton of bricks behind him – that was the depression. Originally planning to bury the depression in work had the side effect of turning it quickly to anger, as one mistake followed after another. This had the result that very quickly Galen spent the day alone in his office reading reports, with every agent assigned to him, especially the ones who had no idea at all about the truth, avoiding him.
Henry spent a good portion of the day trying to decide whether or not to approach his boss about whatever was bothering him. It seemed a good idea to do so, especially before he snapped and made the wrong comment to the wrong person. Getting fired from his position probably would not help his mood any, and Henry emphatically did not want a new boss.
Galen looked up from the report Grey had sent him earlier about the new bodies in the morgue, all being quietly reclassified of course. Knowing what was doing it this time would be nice. Henry was looking down in an open folder at the time, as though he would have missed the pile of documents outside. “Excuse me, sir, I just had a few questions about the Rosenburg case….”
“Henry, what do you really want?” he asked, sighing and leaning back in his chair. It took talent and understanding to organize things the way he did – which told Galen that it was very unlikely he was here just to ask about questions he probably already had the answers to.
Henry shut the file and peered over his glasses at Galen. Before speaking, he gave a conspiratorial glance outside. “Well, there has been talk around the office that you aren’t exactly in the best of moods today.”
“Everyone has a bad day once in a while, Henry. Nothing to worry about.”
“Is that why you called the Deputy Director all of those names?” Galen looked up at him in panic. That made twice Henry knew more than he should. Was he serious about that remote viewing stuff, or was he watching Galen? Then he remembered the choice names, and figured rumours of the exchange had to have filtered back down to Henry. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really. Now kindly go away.”
“No offence, sir, but I know that look. You’re really upset about something. It’ll probably help. Drinks at seven?”
Galen sighed again. It seemed like a good idea. Anything to shut him up so he could work in peace. “All right, all right.”
Thanks to Adam for the WITty TECHnical support!
Friday, August 26, 2005.
[Editor's synopsis: A comment card is worth a thousand words.]
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
***Friday 26th August, 2005...7:14pm***
Galen could hardly believe he let Henry talk him into this. Having spent the day in something of a daze he really didn’t want to do much of anything besides go home and lay down. "You need to get your mind off her," Henry had said. "Sit back, relax, that sort of thing. So it didn’t work out, move on, there’s plenty of fish in the sea." Eventually Galen had relented, just to shut him up. He would have a few drinks, even though he didn’t feel like it, then go home.
Henry was driving that night. He didn’t notice exactly where the two of them were going, not really caring. Eventually they pulled into the parking lot of a night club. When they got out and started in, Galen stopped him. "No, man, please, anywhere but here." Club Asylum.
"What’s wrong with this place?" Henry asked.
"Well… we came here…."
"Man, you need help. Come on." Henry started in, almost leaving Galen alone outside. A minute later he went in, and the pair sat down at the bar and began drinking.
As usual, Henry got a rum and coke. Galen, feeling adventurous, got a scotch on the rocks. It quickly disappeared while Henry watched on in amazement. Calling the bartender over, Galen said, "Could I get another one of these? This time with some booze in it?"
Reah shook her head at Hayden. "Bugger that, it’s your bloody turn!"
"I got it last time!" he protested, holding up his hands smiling and laughing at her. Nat shot him a rueful smile and elbowed her boyfriend. "What?"
Reah sighed. "I suppose I may as well before Jay gets back and tries cracking on to me," she chuckled. "And if no one else is going to refuel me with bourben!" She raised her voice over the crowd and band. They all gave her cheesy drunken grins. "Bugger the lot of ya!"
She slid off her stool and made her way to the bar. *Bloody crowds. Let me through! I’m a dainty little girl! Respect m…oooh hello!* She squeezed her way through the throng muttering apologies and smiling slyly at the occasional guy.
Finally reaching the front, she accidently bumped someone to the side on their stool. "Oh shit sorry!" She looked up at the person…guy, *Hmm!* Her eyebrow quirked up as she stared appreciatively. "Sorry," she repeated more purposefully and waved the barman as a side action.
Henry was babbling on about something. Exactly what, Galen had no idea. The story had something to do an atheist and a bear, and it took him a few minutes to realize that he was in the process of telling another joke. "So then the bear looks down and says, ‘Lord, I thank you for this food I am about to receive,’" he finished.
Galen didn’t laugh, instead feeling someone bounce into him and heard her apologies. "It’s all right," he said to her. He felt Henry elbowing him in the side, obviously wanting him to go on and say something. *Damn, I am such an idiot. Why didn’t I tell her the truth earlier?* "The floor would have broken my fall," he added.
Reah pressed up against the bar as the barman leaned over to hear what she wanted. "Bourbon!" She winked at him. He smiled and nodded moving off to get her drink making a fantastic show of his impressive glass handling and drink getting abilities.
Reah let him carry on and turned back to the man on the stool. "Hehe. Nah. Couldn’t have that now can we? I just brought this top! Not quite ready to ruin it by jumping down there to save you." She grinned deviously.
The barman returned with her drink. She pulled out the twenty from the small pocket in her bra and passed it over as she picked up her drink, flicking the straw away.
Galen forced a laugh at that, wondering what the best way would be to convince the young blond woman to leave. How the hell had he let Henry talk him into this? He glanced over to his side to see the other man slowly backing off to flirt with women, leaving him without a graceful exit. *Bastard. He’s doing it deliberately.*
"You don’t have to worry about that," he said, trying to politely get out of it. Damn Henry. He hated himself for driving Kate away, and would like to at least drink in peace if he was going to drink. "I’m sorry, excuse me," he added, getting up and looking for a booth in the corner.
*Bugger! Just scare the poor man Reah! I am!* Reah rolled her eyes and accepted the change from the barman before hurriedly slipping between two people that the guy had disappeared through. She didn’t bother with apologies. If there was one thing she hated being thought of as it was a stupid bimbo TB!
"Hey!" She reached out and grasped the man's sleeve, slowing him so she could catch up. "Look, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to be so rash. Just a handsome guy like you would be worth to have as company," she tried. He didn’t look very in the mood.
"Girlfriend?" Reah questioned. It had to be.
"Yes," Galen said automatically. He was tempted to leave it at that, before remembering lying was what got him into this situation to begin with. Besides, he would have to lie to this woman eventually, if for no other purpose to get her to leave – and a lie was most convincingly hidden between two truths. "… well, no. We broke up this morning."
The words hurt as he said them, more than he thought they would. At the moment, he would give anything to be able to have her back. As it was… well, what right did have to even ask her forgiveness? He slipped away gently and sat down at the nearest booth, listening to the band play.
Reah stood there watching him slip away to the nearest booth and just sit there. *Poor guy.* She bit her lip and contemplated going over. *Last thing I’d want is someone cracking on to me… but… ah hell, guys don’t know what’s good for them.*
Making her decision she stalked over to where he was sitting and purposely sat opposite, making a show of keeping her distance. "You know, this mightn’t be what you want to hear, but I’m going to sit here and make sure you don’t do anything stupid. You need company."
Galen shook his head slowly. She was right, that wasn’t something he wanted to hear. Right now the thing he most wanted to hear was Kate saying that she still loved him. Only that wasn’t about to happen any time soon. "Fine, whatever," he muttered, continuing to stare into the drink.
Reah watched him mope for a moment. She could easily tell he still wanted the lucky girl as plainly as if he had a flashing fluorescent sign attatched to his forehead. "You miss her don’t you." It was plain fact, not a question.
Galen nodded in reply, drinking deeply. "God yes, but after everything...." he tried to rationalize it as best he could. She would be better off, wouldn't she? No more worries about her conspirator boyfriend, with luck less danger from his associates. Rationalizing didn't help any, especially when he realised those would all be very good reasons for her not to take him back.
Reah sighed. *What a tough little nut! Hmm…Tough little hot nut!* She smirked subtly before quickly rubbing it off her face. "You don’t have to say… but if you want to I’m ready to listen!" She looked at him as comforting as she could manage in her current state.
"You don’t want to know," Galen said, trying to decide whether or not to finish off his drink. He settled for the happy medium of gulping down half of the remainder. "Let’s just say that we had something of a… disagreement… about my work, and leave it at that."
"Fair enough." Reah tapped the table in time with the band and eyed her drink before deciding to follow in the guy's example, only she finished hers.
Licking her lips and placing the glass back on the table, she nodded to the guy. "What’s your name anyway? I feel rude calling you ‘hey guy’." She chuckled and squirmed stupidly in her seat. She really wanted to dance but decided to hold her ground for this guy's sake.
For a moment he considered now as a good time for a lie. It would certainly not be the first time. Still feeling guilty for what he did to Kate, he decided against it. "Galen," he finally said. Finishing the remainder of the drink, he tried to decide what exactly to do. "What’s yours?"
"Reah." She smiled. *Progress. Yay!* "Look. I won't crack onto you. I can tell you’d just run away. So stop with the constant looking for a way out! I’m not going! Even if I have to follow you all the way back to your house." She thought, *Oops.* "Well… I’d obviously stop following there. Or at least at the bed." She grinned. Inside she was rolling around on the floor pissin’ herself laughing, but outside she tried to keep a controlled facade.
Against his better judgment, Galen began to laugh. She was persistent, he had to at least give Reah that. Somewhere across the room when he looked up, he caught Henry glancing in his direction. It was the kind of look that wanted to ask why he was wasting a perfectly good opportunity. "I can certainly see that," he said, sighing heavily. He wanted to make it up to Kate so badly that it hurt, but despaired. Nothing he could say or do could get her to forgive the deception.
And now this woman wanted to start it all again. She would have no idea what she was getting into. "Come clean, then. Just what are you interested in?"
"Oh!" Reah put on an act of shock at the question, a smirk creeping back onto her face. "How dare you ask such a thing of a woman!" She chuckled. *Man I’m completely fucked!* "O Kay! Twisted my arm!" She smiled genuinely. "I am interested in you. Bloody hell who wouldn’t be! But I can tell you’re going to be a stiff little chip, so I’ll settle for a dance." She pulled her most charming smile.
Means-ends reasoning began to take over. He didn’t like the idea, quite frankly, he wouldn’t enjoy it one bit. But it would hopefully get Reah to leave him alone and let him drink in peace. The winning argument was the amount of alcohol currently in his system. "All right," he said, shakily standing. "Just one, though. Then I really must get back to becoming inebriam – inebrinimie – drunk."
Reah chuckled. "Fine! So long as I get at least one dance out of you." She grinned and stood up holding a hand out to Galen and led him out once he finally took hold of it.
Moving amongst the crowd of couples dancing slowly with their partners, Reah finally found an open space and turned back to smile up at Galen. "Remember, I’m not trying to bed you or anything," she chuckled. "I at least have that much sense, even if I have been drinking!" Her smile softened. "I just want to dance."
*I'm going to hurt Henry,* he thought as they stood rather in the middle of the room. Galen didn't like the idea of sharing a dance of any sort with Reah, not because she wasn't nice, but because as far as he was concerned, he still belonged to someone else - even if she did likely regard him as a snake now. Still, the sooner he got it over with, the sooner he hoped she would leave. And he did at least appreciate the concern she was showing for him.
His hands moved slowly to her waist, trying to keep her as far as away as possible. Reah smiled comfortingly at him as they moved in time with the music. It was awkward at first, but with the alcohol reducing his inhibitions Galen slowly allowed her to move closer. *What are you doing?* his mind screamed at him. *She is not Kate. Does she mean so little to you that you're going with another woman just hours after she left you?*
When Reah's body pressed up against his, he could take it no longer. Pulling away from her, he stepped back in fear. She most certainly was not Kate. "I'm sorry," Galen said. "Look, you're nice and everything, but I'm just not in the mood." You aren't the woman I love, either, he did not say.
Reah had to admit, she felt slightly hurt. *Can’t really blame him now though can you! The fact that there actually are guys out there who still care enough….* She tried to smile. It was hard enough on him already without having her pressing herself against him, but he was a first. Most guys in his position look for a revenge from her experiences. *He’s nice, good looking, unbelieeeeevably loyal even though he’s not even committed to the damn girl! Why the hell did she break up with him?*
Reah frowned. "Look…" She reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but at his flinch from her hand she let it drop back at her side. "I’m sorry. I really am. You obviously still love her…" *Well duh! It’s what he’s been saying for the past however long!* "…and I’m glad to see it." Her smile faltered slightly. "It’s good to finally find a guy as loyal as you," she said with a sidelong glare, recalling some of her past boyfriends.
"Tell you what," she piped up, still keeping the distance he set. "If I can’t go out with you, I’d love to at least have a nice guy like you as a friend." She grinned broadly and chuckled under the influence of the drinks. "And maybe," she sighed. "maybe I can help you with your situation if you’re willing." She winked. Not particulary the type of thing she really did, but the guy needed some support. *And his girlfriend before he drinks himself into an oblivion!* "What do you say? Can I be your friend?"
Galen coughed, looking around the bar. He certainly would be in LA for a while, assuming nothing happened in the meantime – and she was nice enough. For a moment, he wondered if she had any idea at all about some of the dangers the city held at night. "Sure," he said, shaking her hand before heading back to sit down again. "Has anyone ever told you that you’re damned persistent?"
Reah laughed then shook her head in bewilderment at him. "I never had to be until I met you!" She gave him a friendly punch, a smile splitting her face in two and chuckling lightly to herself. "Another drink?"
"That sounds like a very good idea," said Galen. "Maybe they’ll actually put some booze in them this time." He and Reah both returned to the bar to get a few more drinks, this time stronger. They worked their way to a new booth to sit down again this time. "So, tell me, just out of curiosity, what do you do for a living?" Galen asked. It was bound to come up eventually, so he figured he may as well get that out of the way.
"Well," Reah started after taking a swig of her drink, her head spun a little and cells abandoned her momentarily, "I hunt vamm…" She hesitated realising her slip, "…mmcuum cleaner companies!" *Yup, you fucked it! Though I must congratulate you. This has to be a new low.* Reah chuckled stupidly. She really shouldn’t have had those tequila shots earlier.
"Ah, shit!" she sighed. *Oh well, if he doesn’t know they exist, he won't pick the slip up and just think I’m some freak who hunts vacuum cleaner companies!* She shook her head, smiling ruefully. "You?" she rolled off her tongue.
"Nothing so exciting," he replied, raising an eyebrow. Had she almost said she hunted vampires? If she did, he wasn’t about to call her on the slip. Galen took a quick sip from his drink. "I’m just a boring old government employee – um, an Assistant Director with the FBI, in fact." *There, glad that lie is out of the way. Now, let’s just hope she doesn’t ask what exactly you do.*
The drink seemed stronger this time. Galen suspected the bar owner had either stopped watering down the drinks, or had given him something with a higher proof.
"Ooh! FBI." She winked. "That’s gotta be interesting." *OK…he didn’t make any mention what-so-ever on the vacuum remark. So either…something…* She shook her head at her drink. *…OR, he’s met many a vacuum cleaner hunter in his life that it’s no surprise to him.* Reah looked at him quizzically. *Nah!*
She stared more firmly at him through her haze of alcohol effects. "You don’t seriously think I meant… vacuum cleaner hunter do you?" Right now she couldn’t be stuffed what she told Galen. She knew in all logic she probably shouldn’t, but it was eating at her like a little secret she held to herself and just had to tell someone before she burst. She leaned in closer across the table, nearly flat on its top. "I do hunt things with ‘V’s. Not g’string V’s though." She smiled then looked more serious again and whispered low enough so only Galen could hear. "Deaths with big nasty pointy teeth!"
*Great. She really is a vampire hunter, then.* It made sense, considering the alternative was a vacuum company hunter. Her stared at her with a stoic expression, which said he comprehended her meaning. Then he forced a laugh. She could be serious, or could just be a nutjob, there were enough of them around. "Oh, right, you hunt vampires. Of course, the entire myth is based on a misunderstanding of a medical condition."
Reah chuckled. "Oh yeah. Nothing mythical about it!" she mimicked sarcastically and took another drink.
Shaking her head she put the glass back down and continued. "But that’s just my night job… well, except for tonight as you can well see." She gazed around the patrons. "But if I’m lucky I might be able to off one on my way home should I find it… one… thing…. v-Ampire!" She hiccupped and rolled her eyes in annoyance.
"Got any vinegar?" She raised an eyebrow questioning. At the bemused shake of his head Reah laughed and continued on. "Yeah, anywho! By day I own the Armoury down…" Her forehead creased and she snapped her fingers trying to recall its location. "b-Undy Drive!" she announced victoriously, hiccupping again mid-sentence.
"Arg!" She rolled her head. *I am the biggest dick!* She snickered, listening to everything she’d just said. *Would I like to talk any more crap!* She landed an accusing stare on Galen. "Do you ever get pissed? I feel like the biggest idiot here." Reah said, a smirk creeping onto her face, trying to control herself from laughing or doing anything else stupid. *I can show him I can be as civilised as he seems.*
"If we ever have an Olympic drinking team, guess who the coach is going to be?" joked Galen, which earned a laugh from Reah. If he could outdrink the likes of Goethi, a chippi blond girl who couldn't be half his age shouldn't be too much of a problem. Then his head swam. *I'm getting too old for this crap.* Only problem being, if he passed out here he would never live it down.
"This drinking is nothing, you should have seen us at Are- Vandenburg," he corrected, faking a stutter halfway through the word. Mentally he kicked himself for almost saying 'Area 51.' "The air farce needs drinking like the sailors need screwing - which is to say a lot."
Galen looked up from his drink, knowing all sense of rational thought had fled by this point, their eyes meeting for a moment. "You know, you really are cute," he said. "Very cute." He paused for a moment. "Are you gonna pass out?"
Reah giggled, her head swinging loosely just above the bench. *Yay! Although I think he's pissed too!* She chuckled stupidly and strengthened her neck to peer back up at him. "Not quite yet," she exhaled smiling slyly, then straightened fully. "Tequila test?" she suggested.
Galen considered the offer for about three seconds before deciding to take it. In his current state, he was not about to be shown up by an uppity girl with an accent from – where was her accent from? He knew he'd heard it before, just couldn’t place it. "You’re on," he said.
The first two drinks were the easiest on him, while the third went down more difficult. Amazingly, he managed to stay conscious after the fourth tequila, even though his head was beginning to swim even more. At the end of the last drink he had a brief flash of sobriety, about five seconds when he realized the next day’s hangover was going to be terrible. He stood up. "There! Still standing!" Then his legs gave out and he collapsed back in the seat.
Reah’s first had been a breeze and the second followed in quite fluently. Her head spun and she was swaying dangerously close to the edge of the seat, but determination and the natural motion that came to her arm brought the third straight to her mouth and down. Her arm slumped lifelessly to her side and she peered up trying to focus on her fourth shot, it tricked her and spanned across four ways, no two, no six. "Ah shit!" *Must… fineesh… shot!* She tried to lift her eyes higher, grinning drunkenly and noticed Galen standing triumphantly. He said something…*Ah bugger! Stand still!* She giggled and attempted to reach for her fourth before the damned seat ran away! *Oooh… floor?* She waved her left arm around trying to pat the table and find her shot. "Straauuuww!* She managed to slur against the floor chuckling.
Galen watched Reah slump from the chair with one drink left to go. "Oh no, I shink you shad enough," he slurred. Going down on the floor, he put his arms around her from behind and pulled her back up into the chair. Henry saw him doing this, and left the woman he was with to come over to the pair. "We gotsha get you ome. Where shoe live?"
"What the hell did you do to her, man?" Henry said, getting over there before seeing the tequilas. "Remind me to never challenge you to a drinking contest." Galen didn't say anything, waiting for Reah to respond.
Reah came to, moaning and chuckling. "Gilleeeeeeeeeen jyyrrrrr…" she slurred then giggled. She tried opening her eyes and noticed a hazy blur of something in front of her. She reached out numbly and tried to pat it, smiling wearily at its amusing shape. *Need sleeeeeeep!* her subconscious informed her.
"Kaaaaaaay…" Reah complied, blacked out and went slack collapsing her head with a loud ominous thud on the bench.
The pair helped Reah back up into the booth, who began to slide back down when they let her go. Henry helped Galen in next to her, moving his arm around her so that they propped each other up. "Here, I’ll ask around, see if she came with someone. You two just look cute, okay?"
"Alrighty," Galen stuttered out, his head falling down on Reah’s shoulder while Henry went out around the room. He couldn’t make out much until Henry finally came back.
"Bad news, man," he said. "I couldn’t find if she came in with someone."
"Zat’s okay," he said, shaking Reah awake. "Hey there. Crash at my place? Or where’s yours?"
Reah moaned at the shaking that disrupted her sleep. She fought with her eyelids to open them and managed to make out a hazy face...*Galen? Maybe...errr...whaaat?*
She smiled wearily and collapsed her head on his shoulder. "Poplar avenamoo." She tried to make an effort of communication, thinking extremely hard without much success beyond creating a tired moan and snuggling her head till she found a more comfortable position.
Henry shook his head slowly as he considered the drunken pair, helping them out to the car. He started out to Poplar before finally asking where exactly she lived. After many attempts at inquiry, and attempts by Henry to keep them from falling on each other, he managed to locate the right building. It took Henry about another 20 minutes to finally locate the right apartment before dragging Galen back to his, and dropping him off up there. Somewhere along the line, they managed to sober up enough to exchange phone numbers.
Friday 26th August
Thule looked up from the book he was reading to the clock on the mantel. It was 8:15am. He continued to read his book. *Young people nowadays, they have no clue what punctuality is”. He had been waiting for Tarix. He soon became bored with the book he was reading and put it down. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock again. 8:30. He got up and went to his window and looked out. He had never been so restless to meet anyone else before. Then again Tarix was special, yes really special.
He looked down at his ruby ring he wore in his index finger and rubbed it. It had been five years ago that Alfred had given him this. He still remembered that day as if it was yesterday. He had been invited to Alfred for their weekly games of chess...
******
Thule knocked on the door and waited. Today was definitely a good day. He couldn’t wait to see the expression on Alfred’s face when he showed him what he had found. The door opened and there stood Tamy, Alfred’s wife.
“Well, hello Thule, on time as ever aren’t we?”
“Good afternoon Tamy. You are looking very nice as always. I believe Alfred is in the study as usual?”
Tamy smiled. “Yes, as always. Would you like some tea or coffee, perhaps?”
“Coffee sounds good, thank you,” he replied. Tamy took Thule’s coat and after hanging it made her way towards the kitchen. As Thule walked towards the study he could smell the sweet aroma of roast beef cooking. *Tamy’s got a good personality, is a good cook, a great mother, Alfred doesn’t know how lucky he is.*
Thule reached the study. Alfred had kept his study quite simply but tastefully furnished. He had a mahogany desk and chair near the far wall next to the window facing the backyard. All around the walls of the study were shelves and shelves full of books. Alfred had also placed some antique ornaments on a few shelves, all of which were a part of his research. In the middle of the study was a small marble table and two chairs, with a chess set made entirely of marble, like the table.
Alfred was pacing the study. Something seemed to be troubling him, as always. Thule looked at him and couldn’t help smiling. Whether it be weekday or weekend, Alfred was always preoccupied with other things on his mind. Thule cleaned his throat loudly to make his appearance known.
Alfred stopped pacing and looked up. “Good afternoon Thule, you are here early.”
“Not really,” he replied, pointing towards his own wristwatch. Alfred also looked at the clock on the wall.
“Oh my, I hadn’t noticed the time,” he said, looking slightly surprised. “So, are you ready for our game?”
“I am but first you have to tell me what’s bothering you. I know you usually have lots of things on your mind but this time something really seems to be troubling you. Tell me and I’ll try to help you.”
“Thule, it’s nothing, really. I was just thinking about one of the assignments I’ve gotten, that’s all.”
“Alfred my friend, lying is a skill, and though you possess a lot of skills, you lack this one. Never mind, I have a little something for you that should make you happy.” Thule reached in his pocket and took out something that was wrapped up in a lot of paper.
Alfred moved in a little closer as Thule unwrapped the package and showed its contents to Alfred. Alfred first looked at the item held by Thule and then gently took it from him and started to examine it.
“Oh my, this is….”
“Yes, it’s the “Codex of the Kumac,” Thule said, sitting on one of the chairs in front of the table with the chess board on it.
“But I thought it was lost?”
“Oh it was. But after you mentioned it to me, and how much you were looking for it, I researched as far as I could, wrote a few letters and finally found a merchant in Egypt who was selling it quite cheaply as a pendant.”
Alfred took the artifact is his fingers and held it up. The Codex was shaped as a golden disk with a hole in the middle. It had inscriptions on it, which seemed to be in some sort of non-understandable language.
“Thule, you don’t know how much this helps me, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I know how, by letting me beat you at chess, you seemed to be on a winning streak for a past couple of weeks," Thule chuckled.
Alfred put the disk back in the paper and wrapped it. He then put the disk in one of his drawers and locked it. He came to Thule and sat in front of him.
“Thule, you have been more then a friend to me. You have been my Patron, my mentor. I really don’t know how to thank you.” Alfred took off a ring he always wore in his index finger. “I want you to have this. It has got me through some difficult times. It belonged to my father and I want you to keep it now.”
Thule looked at Alfred in shock. “Alfred, I am deeply touched but I really couldn’t. What I did was because I saw you needed help. You do not need to pay me back for it.”
“No, it’s not paying you back, it’s just a gift, a token of my appreciation. And I won’t take no for an answer.” He handed the ring to Thule. And gestured that he put it on.
“Alfred, I… thank you.” He put the ring on his own index finger.
****
Thule started to pace as well. It was now 9:00 and he was starting to worry. Tarix may be a demon, with powers quite strong but she still didn’t know of the real world. He'd hoped she would have arrived sooner.
Thule had finally decided to grab his coat and go to Tarix’s apartment and find out where she was himself, when there was a knock on his front door.
He went to it and opened it. There stood Tarix, with a sheepish look on her face, holding up his card.
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly, “I kinda got lost.”
Front Porch
***Friday, August 26, 2002 -- 6:30 p.m.***
Chinaka and Parasol sat in the modified Adirondak chairs Parasol insisted they put in front of the gallery. Chinaka hated the idea; she thought it was “country.” And not Hotlanta hi-tone cosmopolitan educated country. Chinaka was talking “If you bahba-Q on your FRONT porch, you might be ghetto” country. Parasol just flicked her wrist at Chinaka saying “Yeah, you would think that, Miss Thing, but mark my words. You’re gonna be thankful.”
The sun was well below the tall buildings down the block from the gallery, so Parasol was safe from immolation. Chinaka and Parasol sat, sipping at a couple of very cold beers. The strains of light jazz escaped from their gallery and mixed with the drums from Ayala’s dance studio and the old school jams from Loring’s shop. The mix was not wrong; strangely complex, like 7/8 time.
Chinaka hated admitting it but the Adirondak chairs were pure inspiration. All of Parasol’s ideas were brilliant inspiration. Of course, it would stand to reason – she’d run businesses, including a pre-Civil War plantation, all of her life. She knew her stuff – dammit!
This is how it worked: The sight of Chinaka and Parasol sitting, sipping and chewing the fat with the window of amazing art behind and jazz winding around them was more than enough for those with and without the means to stop to buy or at least converse with the women. More often than not, something was purchased. As Parasol just said a few minutes ago, “Let’s just use all this jelly we got to catch us some flies. Best place to catch flies is the front porch.” Inspired. Frigging inspired.
“Don’t hate, Chinaka,” Parasol chortled at Chinaka. “Just go ‘head and admit I was right about the chairs.”
“Ok, Auntie. I admit it. You were right.”
They sat silent for another minute or two. Parasol watched her progeny masterfully flirt with the gentlemen sitting in the SUV across the street and smiled. This Chinaka looked so much like Parasol’s daughter. Parasol realized that this was the woman her daughter would have been given the advantages and today’s state of the world. She lowered her head as she felt her eyes tear up, missing her daughter almost more than she could bear. Chinaka was going to need a few more weapons if she was to survive what Parasol suspected was coming.
“Don’t wake a vampire during the day,” Parasol said quietly.
Chinaka unglued her eyeballs from the dark face of the man in the SUV. *What did Auntie say?* Her attention was now fully on Parasol “Huh? What’d you say?”
“Don’t try to wake a vampire…”
“During the day. Yeah. I got that. Hallelujah!! Are you sharing? Holy shit. Wait. Hold that thought. Let me get another beer.” And with that Chinaka ran back into the gallery. The young man in the SUV smiled at Parasol. She smiled back wondering what his blood type was.
Chinaka came running back outside with 2 Coronas in her hand. “Wait. Wait. Let me get comfortable” And Chinaka settled into her chair with her knees up under her chin. “ Okay. Why not wake you during the day? I’ve seen you awake and walking around during the day.”
“Because I don’t always have my true nature under control when I wake up.”
“So you wake up all bumpy every morning?”
“No, but depending on my physical state and my dreams, I – or any vampire for that matter – could very well mistake you for breakfast, though I would try not to of course.”
“Oh.” Parasol could feel Chinaka’s heart constrict in her chest.
They sat for another minute in silence.
“See, Chinaka, what I am is governed by autonomic responses, just like you. You breathe. Your heart beats. These are all responses that you don’t consciously control; your body takes care of these things itself. So does this body, especially after sleeping. Drinking blood isn’t a choice, it’s a necessity.” Parasol could smell the man in the SUV.
“Okay. Won’t be giving you a wake shake.” Chinaka thought about the day she was watching Parasol sleep, cringing at the idea that she nearly walked in there to wake her up. “Anything else I should know?”
“You should probably check with me before inviting me someplace. Not everyone’s hip to or appreciative of vampires.”
“I said I was sorry. Can we bring out another dead horse to flog?”
Parasol smiled but sat silently, squinting at the ping-ponging reflections of the setting sun in all the windows of the buildings around her. It was always nice to see the sun however masked it might be. She missed it so.
With that, Parasol came to the decision she had been ruminating over for the past couple of days. Parasol worried how to tell Chinaka what she had to tell Chinaka. She decided to say it as plainly as she could. The less Chinaka knew, the better.
“Chinaka, I won’t be around much for a while so living with a vampire won’t really be a concern of yours.” Chinaka stared at Parasol. Parasol pressed on; plainly benevolent.
“I’ve arranged for my lawyer Mr. Pattersall to take care of the books of African Heart. The mortgage is paid on both the house and the gallery. The bills are paid. The pool man and the gardener are paid. All for several months. All you have to do is run the gallery and paint and live life in the honey pot." Parasol gave Chinaka a warm but small smile. "I’ve called your mother and told her that I would be out of touch for a while. so she knows to check on you.”
Chinaka opened her mouth to protest but Parasol cut her off.
“I know you’re gonna be all in my business and ask a million questions but its best that I tell you nothing. Just believe me when I say that I can’t be around you right now. I have to take care of some things. I can’t worry about you or have you worry about me.” Parasol didn’t tell her that she could hear Chinaka’s blood pounding against her eardrum. She wouldn’t tell her that more than just about anything, she wanted to puncture Chinaka’s jugular and take a good long reviving drink. “You've wondered how I lived with my family all this time? By knowing when to get lost and not put my family in jeopardy.
“Do you understand or do you need to get all in my business?”
Parasol watched Chinaka’s eyes brim with tears. “I understand Auntie.” With that Chinaka took Parasol’s cool hand into her own. They held hands listening to the drums, the jazz and Teddy Pendergrass as darkness poured itself through the sky.
Finding The Note
Friday, 26th August 2005 - 7am
The sun had risen by the time Jade had finished her shower. Coming out, she almost ran into Sorrow as he made his way into the bathroom. "Woah... You're off to an early start! What's your hurry?" Jade asked, towelling her hair dry.
"I'm heading to my apartment."
"What? Moving out already?" Jade joked weakly as she flicked her towel at Sorrow.
"Research. Xavier." Sorrow gave a little inward sigh as he saw Jade's features tighten. "I have a couple of errands to run, then I should be at the apartment till late. Might stay there for a couple of days if there's a need for it..."
"Oh... Well... Go on then. I'll put the percolater on and we'll have a cup before you rush off. I was planning to head down to XY early anyway. We should be ready to open by Monday. Thought I'd do some online promotion and publicity today." Trying not to let the mention of Xavier get their day off to a bad start, Jade gave him a small smile and disappeared into the bedroom to change.
**************
About 20 minutes later - 7.20am
Jade gave Sorrow a kiss before he made his way out the front door. Despite the early hour, the air already held hints of the heat that was sure to engulf them later in the day. As XY's air-conditioning still wasn't in tip-top condition, Jade had dressed in a comfortable tank top and thin capri pants.
Deciding that she still had time before she headed out, Jade lit a cigarette and settled down to enjoy another glass of iced coffee. She switched on the television for a while and watched the morning news; a presenter dressed in a chilli-red suit was rattling off the latest entertainment tidbits.
"First up - A memorial service for Taylor Hanson, one third of the boy band Hanson, will be held later today at the band's concert venue at Hope Street. Organised by the group's fan club here in L.A, the service will start at 3pm. It is not yet known if any of Taylor's family members will be in attendance. No statement has been issued by his grieving parents or siblings since his tragic death a week ago."
Jade shook her head and switched the set off. *Killed by a tornado. Gosh...* She'd never been a Hanson fan - in fact, she had loathed "Mmm-Bop" from the first time she'd heard it - but she did sympathise with the guy's family having to deal with such a freak accident stealing their son and brother away.
Grabbing her tote bag, Jade yanked a pair of flats from the hall closet... and spied the stack of old newspapers she'd been meaning to throw out just before she waltzed out by the door.
*Damn! Almost forgot again!* Jade hoisted the bundle up, absently reaching down to pick up a stray piece of paper as it fluttered to the floor. She unfolded and glanced down at it, half-expecting it to be one of those annoying {FOR SALE} flyers people slipped under your doors. Instead, she found herself gawking at its contents.
*What the hell?!* Jade stared at the neatly typed out note, not quite believing what she was reading. *If this is an excuse Tash thought up to explain her coming onto Tris, it's a pretty crazy one! A shapeshifter?!* Her fingers tightened, crumpling the sheet as she debated what to do next. *How long has this been there, mixed up with the junk?* Jade had no idea; the pile had been sitting behind the door for almost a week!
Jade leaned against the wall and re-read the short paragraph again. She yanked her mobile out and dialled Sorrow's number, cursing under her breath when a monotonous voice warbled that the subscriber's phone was off or out of range. When it switched to Sorrow's voicemail, Jade left him a message asking him to call her as soon as he possibly could. Then, throwing everything into her bag, she slipped on her shoes and headed out, the stack of old newspapers once again forgotten.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
"Still Awry"
Friday, August 26, 2005. 7:00 PM.
“Tell him to get out of the tub,” Ike said. “I want to take a bath.”
“Let him alone,” Zac said. “He’s happy in there. He makes singing in the shower look like an art. Hell, I’d buy tickets.”
Ike scowled. “What is that? There, in your hand, carrots? You’re feeding him now?”
“Lenny’s hungry.”
“I don’t care if he’s hungry.” He stepped in front of his little brother. “You can’t keep him. I want him out now, he is not a pet.”
“Uh, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a man, not a kid. And if I say I’m keeping Lenny, I’m keeping Lenny.” Zac stepped forward threateningly.
Ike held his ground and contained his surprise: Zac hadn’t always been this tall. The kid stood to his nose, these days. But that didn’t mean the little upstart could do anything he wanted. Ike was still the head of this family. He said, “Over my dead body.”
And that’s all it took.
The batch of carrots flew into the air as Zac tackled him to the floor. They rolled around for a few minutes before Ike pressed Zac’s face into the carpet and bent his arms back. He’d won this round, but there was no denying that Zac was stronger than ever before.
“Ahem,” said a gentle voice. “Hello, boys.”
Together, the Hansons looked up along the sudden appearance of a man wearing polished shoes, slacks, a striped vest and jacket and tie, Lenny’s clean and pleasant face, and a fancy hat. He tipped his hat to them. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt,” he said.
Zac choked. “Lenny?” he said. He began struggling. Ike tightened the arm lock on his brother, but was himself utterly speechless. Zac moved his lips: “Lenny, where did you get those great clothes?"
The man seemed puzzled. "Oh, I'm not Lenny," he said. “No, you see, my name is Harv. Harv S. Dowd. Mr. Dowd. I’m passing through. But if I do see this Lenny fellow, I’ll be sure to mention that you’re looking for him, Mr.—erm…?”
“I’m Isaac,” Ike said. “Ike Hanson. Of Hanson, the group. And this is my idiot brother Zac.” He twisted Zac’s wrist, and Zac yelped:
“Hi, hi, yeah, hi, Lenny...Harv, I mean. I’m Zachary.”
So the guy wasn't Lenny anymore. Somehow that wasn't surprising.
“Say, fellas,” Harv said, “as long as you’re down there, maybe you could help me find someone I happen to be looking for.”
“Sure, sure,” Ike said.
“Do you see any large prints?”
“Prints?”
“Yes, prints. Animal prints. A rabbit’s prints to be exact.”
“Uh…not lately, no.”
“Well gee, that’s too bad. It’s funny. You’ve misplaced this Lenny of yours, and I’ve misplaced my Alice. Alice, that’s the name of my friend. My friend the rabbit.”
“The…rabbit.”
“Oh yes. A good friend of mine, big purple gal. I’d love to introduce you, but, er. Are you sure you don’t see any prints down there? I could have sworn I heard her hopping through this very room.”
“Nope. I tend to notice those things.”
“Too bad. You see, I’m late for a very important date with Alice. I do so hope she didn’t tire of waiting for me and leave.”
“I’m sure she figured there was a mix-up in communication.”
Harv’s face brightened. “You know something,” he said, raising a finger, “I do believe you’re right. She probably thought I said for her to meet me at Bob’s Bar.” He stood straight and hooked his thumbs in the armholes of his vest. “Very well. I shall go there directly.”
Zac started to object, but Ike wrapped a hand around his mouth.
“You do that,” Ike said.
Harv turned, but paused. “Say, would you boys like to join me for a drink? I mean for you to come with me, now, to Bob’s Bar. Alice would love to meet you, I just know it. She’s partial to famous singers, especially ones as handsome as you.”
“Uh…”
“Tell you what, I’ll buy us two martinis.” He noticed Zac’s young face. “And for the little fellow there—”
“I’m not little!” Zac cried, gnawing at Ike’s fingers.
“I’ll buy him a Sprite. How’s that sound? I know a little place along the way where the Sprite is only twenty dollars a canteen.”
Ike nodded, but was saying, “Yuhhhnnno. No, but thanks, though.”
“Very well. In that case, I will take my leave of you fine gentlemen. Leave you to your wrestling.”
“Where will you go?” Zac said.
Harv faced the door to the outside hall. “Through there, Zachary. I will go through that door.”
“Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out," Ike said. "Have a beautiful day, man.”
“Oh,” Harv said, reaching for the knob, “every day is a beautiful day.” He threw them a pleasant smile. "Every day is fine."
[Synopsis: Lenny adopts the persona of Mr. Dowd and leaves the Hansons to their business.]
Prayers for the Devil
***Friday, August 26, 2005 -- 11:30 p.m.***
Parasol pulled her baby over by the side of the road on Slauson. Smooth jazz was on the radio. The moon was full. The air was cool and the night settled around her car.
She thought once again about her daughter Chinaka and her “niece” Chinaka. They were moving farther and farther away from her, like a train pulling from the station.
Parasol could feel what was coming. It had come before in her life and the fallout made Bikini island look like Club Med. She steeled herself, stiffening her spine, but to no avail. She was simply afraid.
“Oh God,” she whispered, waiting for her lips to burn or lightening to strike. Nothing.
It was almost easy, the words and her heart falling into step as if she were in church again; just like the last time 145 years ago. Emboldened, she leaned her head back on the seat and talked to the stars.
“Dear God, I know that I have been removed from your sight and your love. I was given a choice and I chose this existence. But God, it was a mistake and I am so sorry. What I have to do next will offend you even more. But I see no other way.”
Parasol felt the tears spilling out of her eyes onto her hands folded in her lap.
“Keep Chinaka safe. And God,” Parasol sobbed with hopelessness and fear, “when all is said and done, please grant me a small corner of your salvation.”
She wailed shamelessly in the vehicle for exactly one minute longer. When the last tear at second 59 fell from her cheek, she set her jaw, put put her baby into gear, and headed back to London’s.
Discovery
***Friday, August 26 2005 – 11:45 p.m.***
Chinaka drove home from the gallery in a daze. The phrase “be careful what you wish for” was on a loop in her head. She had been so focused on the dangers of living with Parasol that she didn’t even see the blessing. And now, it was gone. Maybe forever. She felt like a stupid, selfish girl.
Wearily entering the house, she caught the light blinking on the answering machine in the kitchen. Three messages. She didn’t have the spirit right now to listen to the whole thing; just enough to see who called. One from her mother. One from Mr. Pattersall. And one, one heartbreaking one, from Parasol. Chinaka's palm was laid flat on the kitchen counter. The clock ticked. The refrigerator hummed.
*The refrigerator!* Chinaka was distracted from her despair for a minute and ran to the refrigerator, flinging it open. No bottles of blood. Nothing. Just a jar of olives, a brick of cheese and a box of Arm and Hammer to keep them honest.
Chinaka spun away from the counter and threw herself into the kitchen chair. She folded her arms on the table, put her head down and cried the proverbial river. Regret. The river was called Regret. It was long and wide.
Chinaka cried because Parasol’s first Christmas present to Chinaka, that she could remember, was a box of paints; every single color that could be imagined. She cried because she remembered when she was eight years old, sleeping under the card table while Parasol, her mother and their next door neighbor played Bid Whist into the wee hours, whooping and hollering over a trump card. She cried because she had been a supreme a bitch to Parasol. She cried because Parasol was gone for who knows how long.
When there were no more tears and she was merely sucking in dry air over her lower lip, she got up and turned out the lights in the kitchen.
She turned off the lights in the living room.
When she got to the top of the stairs, she clicked the lights off in the foyer.
Chinaka tried to walk past Parasol’s room but couldn’t. She stood looking at the carving of the door and the fine brass handle (that Chinaka picked out and Parasol loved). She grabbed the brass handle and turned it, walking into the room. The Parasol fragrance of the room nearly knocked her to her knees with sadness. It smelled like Prescriptives mint oil, Mariel cologne and that really expensive body lotion that Parasol swore by. For a dead person, she sure was well tended. That thought made her smile one second and in the next, she threw herself on Parasol’s bed and cried newly manufactured tears.
Twenty minutes later, bone dry and exhausted, Chinaka reluctantly drew herself off of Parasol’s bed and headed for the door. Just as her hand lay on the knob ready to turn it, something…something shiny in her periphery caught her attention. Chinaka turned to her left.
Was that a book? The kind with the gilded edges. Yes. It was. Lying on the floor by the back leg of Parasol’s dresser (the one Chinaka picked out).
Chinaka released the doorknob and went to pick it up.
Chinaka leafed through it. It was an illustrated index of magical artifacts entitled “Phoe’s Listing.” Inside the front cover, written in Parasol’s 19th century script hand, was a note on cotton-weight paper. Chinaka read the note.
The note said, “Do what’s necessary. Whatever’s necessary. If you find the Cadre, you may find God.”
Chinaka took the deep beginnings of a tear-filled breath and caught maybe one half of one percent of what Parasol’s intentions were.
The Purposed Whip
***Saturday, August 27, 2002 – 12:37 a.m.***
London felt powerful hands grab his shoulders, hauling him out of a jerk and a nap.
He squooged his eyes open to see Parasol straddling him, thumbs digging into his collar bone, forefingers hooked into his shoulder blades. Her boots left their punishment on his 300-counts. Her knees tucked into his armpits.
“I want you to work me, London,” what he now considered to be "his" angel of hell, blood and “Jesus, I gotta roll” whispered in his ear.
He couldn’t quite understand. He could only manage a ragged, “Work you?”
“Like a 9 to 5," she growled through her teeth.
*Ahhh,* a thankful London sighed in his mind. *The Cadre does indeed…*
She settled her inner thighs and tush against his hips and pelvis.
*…keep…*
Her left hand grabbed his hair.
*…its…*
And pulled his head back.
*…promise.*
She fixed her teeth into his neck, drawing London’s blood and heart’s portrait of a bearable infinity.
Splash in the EE Pool
The zero -- the absence, placed its foot on the step. It squinted its eyes closed against the sharp sunlight, irises contracting for the first time. It wrinkled its nose at the intake of the brittle air. The nothingness housed by template not-yet-real flesh pealed silence. It turned its head west, opened its eyes and walked on pavement for the first time, heading to find its home.
Oriana
***Saturday, August 27, 2005 -- 5:00 p.m.***
Oriana Tucci was and had been Peter Pattersall’s secretary for 20 years. She started at Wolfram & Hart as a night word processor, working from 8:00 p.m. until 4:00 a.m. She transcribed transactional agreements mostly. Entertainment agreements like actor agreements or composing agreements. Some loan-outs.
The majority of her time was taken up with demonic “agreement and releases”; agreements between mortals and demons of just about every sort for bartered goods. She didn’t really listen to what she was typing. She just typed it. Even now, as Mr. Pattersall’s secretary, ninety-nine percent of what she transcribed went in one ear, through her fingers on the keyboard, to the document on the screen and out the other ear.
All her life force was given to the firm, her boss, her drive home and her cats – in that order. This sad fact was evidenced by her being here at work – on a Saturday – since 8:00 a.m. – and it was now, what? 4:30 p.m.
Yeah, sure – 20 years earlier, she had been a firebrand. Way ahead of the independent woman battle cry. When she was 24 she made her own money, she paid her own car note, she paid her rent, she danced how she wanted to in the club (mostly rhythmed slutty), she screwed and discarded whomever she wanted. She had big Neopolitan breasts that made Sophia Loren envious. Nice to be that liberated with knockers, too.
But now – now – nobody noticed either her or her attributes. Her clothes were serviceable and baggy. Her shoes were sensible. She had settled into a life of giving and rote. Experience was long lost. No one, save for coyote lovers from the firebrand days, knew she bore tattoos. No one had laid a finger on Oriana but Oriana for over 8 years. She had discarded one too many screw.
At 5:00 p.m., Oriana flipped on the lights to her Westside LA condo.
Something was off. The hallway mirror was setting two reflections of Oriana; one which she guessed was hers (she rarely looked at herself in the mirror anymore) and one which was hers but with much better skin; brighter eyes and virgin hair. Halfway through her effort to see what else was reflecting, her grandmother’s 9” iron skillet, the one that made the great polenta, caught her in her temple spewing half her brains out of her nose.
What was left of Oriana’s brain smiled, thankful that this lonely life that chose her was finally at an end.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
“How Popular This Avenue Poplar”
Part One
Previously on La By Night:
· Brinkley breaks up with her brother Ra. She cites his frivolity as the main reason.
· Taylor Hanson dies, leaving the pop group Hanson without a lead singer.
· Hoping to find Sam Aubrey, Brinkley follows a lead back to Tech Wit.
· Reah pines over the absence of Sam....
Saturday August 27, 2005. 3:03 PM.
She threw the snakeskin briefcase on the passenger seat and squealed out of the motel parking lot. The VW Beetle merged into a rush of wheels, frames, and paint jobs. With the car all-too-safely flowing amid three compacts and a Ryder truck, her eyes glazed over. She began gnawing on a loose shaving of skin tickling her lip, a bad habit, but quietly she enjoyed the taste of blood. Brinkley swallowed. She steered with the mindless bends of the road, and later today she would look back on this drive, damned unable to describe any of the highlights between here and Alhambra.
She scanned just far enough ahead to keep from bumping bumpers with the Tercel in front. Her attention ran in reverse. It had seemed to her, while tracking The Idea last weekend, as though Ra were cultivating a genuine work ethic. This, she liked. But there was more than respect going on inside of her, a fascination she couldn’t disallow.
In retrospect, their health-defying fall over Hope Street had been a small price to pay. Brinkley came out of the experience thunderstruck. She hadn’t felt such gusto since the days of soaring the skies in search of renegade pterodactyls. And Sunday’s daredevil stunt only fueled their investigation with a secret agent thrill. They’d proved it: she and Ra could work efficiently together, but sans monotony. Brinkley would go as far as to give up mint fudge if it meant maintaining that level of excitement. Ra had administered her current human body its first sip of adrenaline. She’d forgotten how much adventure behooved her.
Then he ruined it. The following Monday he dialed her motel room and once more asked — crooned — for her to reconsider taking him back; but after she answered with a grunt and a soft “No…God no…” her brother choked, unaware of how close he’d gotten to God yes. If only he hadn’t pushed. “Please don’t ask again,” she said, and there, with silence, he abandoned his last hope that they could ever be lovers again. She could sense his resignation. But on her end: shuddering, she pinched both of her nipples to pacify them. “I don't want you in that way." Then why did she feel like hanging up and running into the bathroom for an ice-cold shower?
Ra went out of his way to act “butlery” all of a sudden. “Very well,” he said. “Will there be anything else I can do for you this evening?” This non sequitur formality made her more uncomfortable than had his unrequited serenade.
Then — God help him — he really gummed it up: "I live to serve you, madam."
Madam! Hostility commanded her pitch, and “Suit yourself, then, Ra, ya wannabe” was her best riposte on such short notice.
With that, his breathing faded from the telephone line. She listened for the telltale click on the other end that indicated his retreat. Nothing. She cupped the receiver tightly around her ear until suction pulled at the drum and thin air actually made a sound. A hiss in the tympanum disc, a lack of closure, as it were, forced her hand. She pressed the receiver down. It rattled, almost hopped off its cradle, when she let go. And she showered that night while role-playing the conversation in her mind, her forehead bared against the fat, hot dollops of water shooting from the nozzle. Her angry voice, her hasty words:
Suit yourself, then, wannabe.
Then suit yourself.
Go on, Ra: suit yourself. You should do that: go suit yourself.
Suit yourself, suit yourself, suit, suit, suit, suit, suit.
She screamed into the showerhead. Water poured into her mouth, and she swallowed what she didn’t cough up. It tasted soft and filmy. As the fit of coughing tapered, she noticed the phone ringing. She turned off the water and pulled a towel around her torso. The caller, as it turned out, was a man from the front desk — not Ra hoping to let bygones slip by them. The man at the desk expressed his concern.
“No, I’m fine,” she said. “I saw a spider. No, I’m okay now. Thanks, I’m fine.”
The rest of the week dragged. She didn’t talk to Ra again until this morning, whereupon she anxiously asked that he accompany her to Alhambra. Maybe they could even drive fast through tunnels and over bridges. If he wanted.
The thing is, Ra had already promised her that he’d check up on the two remaining Hanson boys in their Millenium Biltmore accommodations before they succumbed to the brunt of grief: Taylor was dead. Taylor Hanson was dead. It had to be repeated to be believed. And if Ra didn’t start actively being their manager, morbid preoccupation would drive Isaac and Zachary back to home-sweet-Oklahoma. Detaining the band in L.A. would require the involvement of both Hanson men, total submersion in their career. Hanson needed a new lead singer.
“I understand,” she said, pulling the phone cord through her pinkie and middle fingers. “Work comes first. At least I don’t have to remind you of your responsibilities.”
He cleared his throat. “You just make sure you do your part, Brink. I want you to get this Aubrey guy - brain-dead or alive.”
She was none too pleased with his bossy tone. His tone from the other night had been better than this - and she'd hated the butler act. But she was not his employee, and his presuming as much made her even angrier. “I'm not the flake, brother dear. You are."
"I said I'd check on them, and I will."
“Just making sure.”
He paused. “Actually, I think it can wait a day. I just might take today off.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“But you just said—”
“You heard me.”
That Ra, in a single choice of spite, then informed her that he would spend this radiant Saturday morning carousing at Hollenbeck Skatepark. But what about work? Nah. He’d rather catch the latest wave, he said. Roll with the cement swells, dude, and absorb the current trends while turning 180 Ollies off the bank ramp. He’d meet up with all the young “dogs” he refered to as his peers. His “peers,” hilarious! They were closer to one 4 ½-billionth his age. Some angels never grow up.
To end the conversation, he couldn’t just say good-bye, either. He said, “Cheers, luv,” a threat of sorts, the accent revisited. It turned her completely off. She didn't want to argue anymore. Hanging up the phone was a breeze.
After bland eggs and tepid coffee, Brinkley decided to go to work. And she began by leaving ten, maybe eleven, messages with the Skunk Motel staff to have Ra Davis ring her on the car phone. He wouldn’t receive the messages until after he got home from skating, of course, but that was the point. If she couldn’t get his help, she’d get his guilt, that son-of-a-bitch-bastard, that infant.
He’d ditched her — the oldest “big brother” trick that a younger brother can play. It chafed her pride, because this way, Ra got to get back at her for rejecting him without being quite so obvious about it. She ditched him romantically? He would ditch her professionally. Theirs was a snowball fight, except Ra countered her snowballs with apples and oranges and the feint of not knowing any better. And that pissed her off, and he knew it pissed her off, and that really pissed her off. She could prove nothing.
Brinkley shifted into third gear. The timbre of the engine dropped to a low purr. She waited impatiently for the Volkswagen’s speed to catch up so she could shift again.
The charge of locating and bringing down Sam Aubrey fell to her. Without a doubt, somebody was getting their brains sucked out today. Brinkley’s ears got tight, and she could almost taste the awfulness: her tongue curled, and a googol of zits squirted her palate. She hated Ra for making her do this alone. She turned onto Hope Street and aimed for Tech Wit.
This would become the second time she had to deal with the owner. The last time was Sunday after she dropped off Ra at the church. It had been awkward from the start.
Hollywood Dewitt had blackmailed her into his dark alleyway for a quick pack of cigarettes and dialogue of innuendo. Because he might help her find Sam Aubrey, she put up with his flirting, even after his comment “Come on, girlie, how about showing a pretty smile for ol’ Wit?” She felt like a whore as she put every muscle in her face to the task of lifting the corners of her mouth. “Now there’s the smile that torpedoed a thousand ships. Fair ‘nuff. Come on inside, Miss Davis. I’ll whip out my drop box.”
He kept his word. On his knees in a storage room marked “Employees Only,” he popped the lid off a cardboard box and roved through the jagged mounds in search of any card that said “Sam.” There were twenty-three Sams, but not a single Aubrey. He stopped every thirty seconds to read the names out loud. “Jenny Spunkmeir,” he said. “Jenny Spunkmeir. Damn. I think I dated her once.” (Was that supposed to make Brinkley jealous?) She looked away and let him finish.
Upon inspecting the last comment card, Holly paused evilly. He showed those teeth of his — Brinkley perked up — then “Nope,” he said. “Nothing here. No ‘Aubrey.’ Sorry. Want to go see a movie, instead?”
She made a fist.
Altogether, this wild goose chase had gobbled up 840 seconds of Brinkley’s life, tallied by her rhythmic toe-tapping. She broke down and bummed one of Holly's Marlboros for the road. She drove home listening to the Vandals at volume 10.
Holly called her last night after Wheel of Fortune. “Got it,” he said. “Says, ‘Sam Aubrey’ right here. 1318 Pop…well, you’ll see when you come pick it up.”
Bet he found that damn card last Sunday. He just wanted an excuse to get me to come back and visit. Jenny Spunkmeir my ass.
But she accepted. It only meant another twenty minutes shirking his “googly” eyes. At least now she had someplace to get to....
It was 4 PM on a sunny Saturday, just minutes after retrieving the sky-blue comment card at Tech Wit. Poplar Avenue stretched beyond the hood of the car, and it coursed on either side as she pressed the speed limit.
She ran a red light.
The eleven hundred block went by… the twelve hundred block… thirteen. She burned rubber swerving alongside the curb. The VW halted in a cloud of exhaust, and it idled ferociously. Her fingers made a sticky rip as she let go of the steering wheel. Her neck popped. She glanced left, across the street.
This ordinary-looking building, three-stories tall, did appear to be the right place. She gave the key a sharp twist in the ignition, and the engine died. The cab went quiet, except for numerous sizzling Pop Rocks under the hood of the car. Her temperature gauge pointed near the red zone.
The stoplight, back a-ways on the eleven hundred block, changed green. Like gusts of wind, the vehicles approached. They rocked the Beetle gently in passing. Otherwise, Brinkley felt entirely detached from the outside world. She was beginning to feel the pain of immortal loneliness. By choice, she’d cast Ra aside, and that meant something she hadn’t anticipated. She’d live forever, watching her secular attachments wither. The world would never know the real angel inside; the world, she would pass it by.
The next break in traffic provided a better view of the sidewalk. A rectangle of freshly-painted white appeared above the storm drain. Stenciled across the rectangle were lush black numbers: “1318.”
Time to get to it.
Brinkley fumbled over the dash and snagged the comment card by its corner. She snapped it quick to teach it to stay open, and it unfolded partway to reveal three sections. The middle leaflet bestowed a match: 1318. Sam Aubrey. Apartment 211.
Brinkley cracked a can of soda and set it on the dash. She leaned over the steering wheel and rolled her eyeballs toward the crevice where the windshield met the frame. From this angle, she could see the roof, and high above it, a plane, twinkling like a midday vesper. Between the first and second story, a squat ledge hugged the structure from left to right, whereupon it made a sharp turn and stretched out of view. Mounds of silver pigeon shit glinted in the sun.
Maybe, if this were Alhambra by night, she’d enter Batman-style. But the oppressive daylight hour called for trickery. If at all possible, she’d lure Sam downtown and make Ra do the dirty work. She shuddered, still tasting grapefruit and pus.
The next spurt of cars startled Brinkley into action. She found a stick of pepper-hot chewing gum in the glove compartment, she snatched a parting slurp off her Coca-Cola, and she planted both shoes outside the car. Brinkley skipped erratically through traffic, her briefcase flailing. The snakeskin must have looked so tacky set against the pink Hanson shirt and her big, blue skater jeans. She ducked and dodged in her white-white high-tops, all four neon shoelaces unlaced from vamp to tongue and dribbling across the pavement.
Fate drew her to an alcove around the back. A security door waited ajar, drooping slightly on a bad hinge. Her breasts grazed the threshold as she slithered shoulder-first into shadow, and immediate, mountainous steps lead her straight to the second floor.
To Be Continued....
[Synopsis: Prepared, if necessary, to reclaim The Idea, Brinkley arrives at Sam’s apartment building on Poplar Avenue, where everything BIG always seems to take place.]
Come Together
Friday afternoon***
Pablo Picasso once told him that he hated being an artist. It was as if every one expected him to create beauty and perfection because he was an artist. Picasso said that was the real reason he had distorted his art. He had started doing it to see if any one would care. But they had already formed their expectations in their mind. "Picasso," they said, "Is redefining art."
"Picasso," Pablo had said into his eighth drink of the afternoon, "has defined their idiocy."
Vrithetek looked down at the disposable camera in his hand. "Is it art? Or is it Memorex?" he said before dropping it into the overnight pickup. He stuck his hands in the pockets of the huge coat he had found at the Goodwill. He didn't really need it since he wasn't cold, but the pockets were nice to have.
He strolled down the street near the docks. *They will be here soon, I suppose. I had my fun. I suppose you did too?*
There wasn't any answer there was never an answer. The presence he could feel like a mental leech hanging on to this wonderful new body never ever said anything. Vrithetek didn't care; in fact he preferred it that way. For the first time in 900 years it was quiet in his brain.
Vrithetek strolled past a homeless guy and dropped a gold tooth he had extracted into the cup. He laughed for three blocks at that one. He was still smiling at the freedom he was enjoying when he stopped by a hotdog vendor. He had cut off the man's fingers and was placing them on a bun when he saw her.
She was magnificent. Tall, brown and like a goddess - and she was running towards him. The bobbing of her tits and the pumping action of her legs mesmerized him. She was poetry in motion. He blinked to break the spell. *Shit, she's after me.*
Vrithetek leaped 20 feet up to the top of a light pole. He ran across the arm holding the light, launched himself across the street to the building on the other side and ran across the rooftops.
He could hear her land behind him as he was running. He hopped down and doubled back through the vacant building he had been running across. He broke out of the barricaded door and glanced around. The she-beast was on the rooftop above him and he had no time to waste.
Vrithetek charged into the street causing a Geo Metro to slam on its brakes. He lifted a manhole cover, grabbed the Geo's bumper and pulled it (with its tires locked up by the driver) to cover the hole.
In the sewers he could hear the echoed voices of Vicasha and the driver shouting at each other. *Heh, that will buy me an extra second or two.*
He ducked into pipes and outlets looking for light… smelling the clean air that directed him to the way out. He came to a grating that he kicked out, leaped into the concrete sluice, and ran until he could reach a walkway. From there he jumped up onto the street and found an alleyway with a dumpster. He needed to think.
The tactical mind came up with three suggestions. 1) Another battle fiend, an upgraded version perhaps. 2) Another doppelganger (as Vrithetek had come to call what he was now). 3) Tash and Victor co-joined into some bizarre hybrid.
This was the first time he had laid eyes on the thing that had been chasing him for three days. At first he had thought a slayer had latched onto his trail. Slayers were troublesome but not insurmountable. But his pursuer had demonstrated more tracking skill than Slayers usually do.
Then he though maybe Xavier, but it was too soon for him to be out and hunting again. Magic healing, perhaps, but this was a brand new body. Nobody knew about it. Especially Xavier.
When he saw her all of the other choices had been narrowed to three. Unless he let her get close enough to him to sense her spirit… then it was pure speculation. And letting her get that close was dangerous.
Better to run. *It has been along time since I ran,* he thought, and there was a twinkle of amusement at the prospect from the leech. *Like that do you? Want to see the world?*
Vrithetek liked nothing more than an audience so he hopped out of the dumpster and got his bearings. *That way to the docks.*
Hours later he was casing out a particularly distasteful-looking ship. "Jormungandr" Reykjavík, Iceland proclaimed its bow. Vrithetek had left much of his knowledge behind in the interest of speed. It sounded familiar… fitting; but its meaning had been left in Victor if he ever had known it at all.
Vrithetek hopped onto the anchor chain and began to scale his way onto the ship. From behind a crate a cargo net flew and draped itself over him and the chain. Strong brown hands hauled back on the net. Vrithetek hung onto the anchor chain and the huge ship banged against the wharf with an impossibly deep gong.
Vrithetek tried to let go of the chain but hard spikes and long horns snagged in the loops of cable. The net was hopelessly caught on the chain and Vrithetek dangled under it at a weird angle as he started snapping cords one at a time to free himself.
The she-beast leapt up to the top of one of the pilings and surveyed Vrithetek's situation. Vrithetek stopped struggling for a moment and surveyed her in return. He smiled, "Victor as a demon you couldn't get into her pants any other way, could you?"
He laughed as the last cable snapped and he dropped into the water. Vicasha dove in after him. Vrithetek shed the coat and swam beneath the keel of the ship down where the water was dark and cold. Vrithetek was slow because his hard chitin didn't give and stretch to catch more water like Vicasha's skin did and she soon narrowed his lead.
He snagged a piling, clambered out of the water, and leaped onto the pier. He snagged a pipe from a pallet and swung it as Vicasha rocketed out of the water. The long pipe was not designed as a weapon and it howled in protest at the stresses. It smacked into Vicasha's side sending her flying into a stack of barrels that landed heavily on her. Vrithetek dropped the pipe and ran the other way to increase his advantage of distance.
Vicasha hurled barrels off her and stood. She could see where he was going and she knew that running after him would just make him panic and fight. She looked up at the warehouses lining the docks. She hopped to the top of a stack of crates and from there to the rooftops. She discarded the oversized tennis shoes that she had been wearing. Flesh was quieter.
She padded over the tin roofs like a ghost. Barely more noise than a gentle rain filtered down to the panicked dockworkers whose day had been disrupted by Vrithetek passing by. Vrithetek in the meantime was getting… well, frightened wasn't the right word… concerned maybe. He had already upended a forklift he could have easily jumped over or run around. He had stopped running long enough to spill water around a man who was arc welding. He couldn't help it. It was just too inviting.
He body-slammed a few men, sending them flying into the water unconscious or hurtling into building or pallets of cargo. Then suddenly he stopped. It was in the middle of a huge unloading lot. No warehouse, no workers, no ships, just wide-open space. He stood in the center of it and turned around. She was there.
The last traces of the sun slipped beneath the horizon and the long shadows disappeared to be replaced by feeble circles of yellow security lights. The darkness crept out of its hiding places and filled in the shadows making them darker and scarier.
He stood in the center in a well-lit island of light and she hid in the shadows at the edge. He was naked, nine feet tall, glistening with yellowish slime and bristling with spikes. His horns and mandibles were damp with blood of impaled longshoremen. His multifaceted eyes twinkled.
She exited the shadows and stood under another lamp where he could see her. She was brown and sweaty. Her ill-fitting clothing was soaked and stained with chemicals in the water. She spoke in her deep sultry voice, "This is where you want to have a last stand? You couldn't find anything better?"
Vrithetek laughed, "I needed room for the three… no four of us. It's funny. This is a sock puppet fight. I'm just borrowing this puppet from the puppeteer. You aren't going to live much past the fight. Even if you do win then they're going to throw you away like the leftover ketchup packets in a McDonald's bag. They didn't want you - they just used you."
Vicasha's jaw actually popped from how hard she was clenching it. *Damn him,* she thought, *He's always right and so wrong at the same time.* She didn't blink as she spoke, "I don't matter. They do… we do. You just have not gotten that yet."
Vrithetek's smile disappeared and he intoned with deadly seriousness, "'I always knew you two deserved each other. Well, I hope you're happy in there. I'm certainly happy in here. What you have not figured out is that neither of us matters. We are expired like dairy products in the refrigerator. This is a new age full of humans. We have been useless since we got here. Extraneous anachronisms. Even the humans are on a limited time schedule. Especially if the manufacturer of this fine vessel has its way. We are the last age's models."
Vicasha didn't want to fight. Even with Tash urging her and Victor feeding Vrithetek's weak points and combat moves to her. She wanted to walk away and forget about this smart-mouthed bastard. She wanted to let them all rot in this hell that they had created for themselves.
Vrithetek saw her sink slightly. *Home run,* he thought. "And Tash, you wouldn't want to be the very thing you always despised would you? A demon forever? Doesn't strike me as your kind of gig. Come on cutie, why are the only two nine-foot tall battle demons fighting in a parking lot when we could be having a lot more fun terrorizing Hollywood?"
Vicasha was staring at the ground now, her eyes having drifted down to the pavement dotted with concrete stops and steel tie-downs. "Shut the fuck up!" she shouted at him.
He held up his hands in mock surrender, a goofy smile on his face. It just made her madder. She took a few steps towards him, spilling all her pain and doubt in to her words, "You cocky prick. You have been the worst part of me for so long. I don't know why I never got rid of you before! You have made our lives hell! Both of us! Ahhhh! Die! Go away! Get lost. I don’t want you! I never did!"
Vrithetek shrugged, "That was always my plan, sweetheart. Have a nice life." He turned and started to walk away. Vicasha stood there and shook with anger as tears rolled down her cheeks. She bent down and picked up a concrete stop and hurled it at the back of Vrithetek's head.
Vrithetek's new body was a marvel of duplications. Strength, agility, speed, armor, and even the enhanced senses had all been duplicated. But G'rnathan battle senses weren't a physical property; there was something almost mystical about them. Vrithetek's reaction to the concrete stop was to slam face first into the pavement followed by the concrete block.
Vicasha rolled him over onto his back and placed her hands around his neck. She reached into its mind and saw the red cloud that had taken residence in the spongy mass that passed for this thing's consciousness.
*I love it when you are on top. Shut up.*
She dutifully squeezed the sponge until every drop, every wisp had been extracted. Vrithetek stopped being clever and started just being crude and obscene. She locked him deep within her - isolated until it was time. For a moment there was something else she could sense. It was like the feeling of being watched by a huge microscope. She felt very small compared to that presence. Then it was gone. Vicasha's hands closed on nothing. Vrithetek was reduced to grayish goo that began to evaporate in the warm air.
Vicasha stood up in the circle of light. There was something going on here. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place and it scared the shit out of her. Not just because she knew that her time was limited. All the parts of Victor and Tash had been recovered.
The parts that had come along with it added up to an unimaginable threat. Not just Earth. This entire plane was at risk. It had snuck in a back door and it was bigger than all of them. And it scared the shit out of Vicasha.
Speaking to the Dead
Friday, 26th August 2005 – 11pm
The night had not gone well for Galen. Immediately Henry dropped him off at his apartment he was confronted by a rather peculiar sight; a nine-foot tall creature with apparently both female and demonic parts. Henry was a bit afraid of the thing, but was more disbelieving when Galen tried to dismiss it as the result of too much to drink. "Are you crazy?" he snapped back, forgetting the monster for a moment. "Why am I seeing it then?"
Galen didn't know what happened next, just that somehow he was now back in the apartment with some large blur standing in front of him. *Good lord, what is it talking about?* he thought. For that matter, where had the thing come from? And why did the blasted thing keep insisting he not reach for the Salems, or the perfectly good bottle of brandy? Oh well, better to just nod and smile, and maybe it would go away in the morning....
"Galen, pay attention. I was telling you that once I left the apartment I was able to trace the scent of the fake Tash. It was right at sundown as I started jogging first then running. I remember running but not like this. I felt like a gazelle as I flew down the street. People screamed as we crossed intersections.
"The trail was fresh and it went through some dark parts of town. Parts of town where the worst of men are found. I could feel her hunting. Out there in the night she and I were hunting. But she was a panther hunting only to feed her hunger. I was the flame that would consume her and then flare out.
"Where will I go Galen? Do they tell you that in the government? What happens when one day you are something and the next you are something else? Is that one of your secrets?"
Vicasha paused. She could see that Galen's eyes weren't really focused. But she needed to sort all this out. There was too much in her head. "I could smell her on the air. Could smell her excitement. I'd never been able to track like this. Thoughts floated along the breeze to me with the scents. Her thoughts, thoughts of those she encountered. I could pluck them out of the air like petals. It was so easy. So incredibly easy."
Galen muttered something in Italian. Vicasha remembered the language from being Victor. The part that was Tash could hear his drunken mind accessing the memories of the summer he spent in Naples. "Galen, you don't have any idea what this is like. It is both seductive and frightening. Comfortable and alien. The duplicate Tash was like that too. So close it was if I could reach out and pluck her from thin air. But she must have known, sensed somehow that I was out there.
“As the moon crawled across the sky and hid beneath the horizon and the light appeared in the east, I realised that I could not think like Tash any more. I was not Tash any more. I was something new. Unique."
Vicasha couldn't stand still any longer. She was feeling too energised from the swirling life forces inside her. A quick lap around the room later, she was able to continue. "I could run so fast, people could only see me as a blur. I found I could scale a building almost as easily as you can cross a road. I stood on the edge of a rooftop and imagined I could fly. But," Vicasha's deep, throaty, but feminine voice chuckled, "I decided against testing that one."
She leaned forward, thrusting her horned face forward to meet Galen's bleary, cross-eyed stare. "And the things I learned. Anything I touched, I could see what I wanted to see. Why should I give that up? Where will I go when these two," she gestured at herself, " want to go their separate ways again?"
Galen was thinking "tits" but he didn't voice it. Vicasha dismissed it; she'd been getting a lot of that the last three days. "You don't know. I don't know. God and Ghortab don't know. But Tash knew. I found her in a graveyard hiding in a crypt. She thought the stone would shield her. It would have from her talents but not mine.
"She was thinking about Victor. That’s how I caught her. I had not thought about Victor all day. The thought of him was familiar. It was like knowing where you left your car keys. She was right where I left her.
"She had help too. I have no idea how long it took her to make that many undead… well, actually I do. I think she had help, but at the time I wasn’t sure who or what would help her do that.”
Vicasha shuddered and Galen's eyes went wide at the sight. One eye anyway. "I felt something kick into overdrive; reflexes and senses emerged like pouring gasoline on a flame. I destroyed her minions as fast as they could come at me. I felt like they were being painfully slow about it, my time perceptions having sped up to the point where they were moving in slow motion. When I finally laid my hands on her..."
Vicasha closed her eyes and trembled at the memory. “All of Tash’s life force flowed back into me. All the things that creature did while she wore her body were laid out there for me to see and feel. All those experiences she’d been garnering to feed back to… something. Somewhere. And I became so much stronger, even as she dissolved into ectoplasm.”
Vicasha flexed one hand and watched the claws extrude and retract from her fingertips. She leaned over Galen and shook him. He stopped snoring and licked his drool covered lips. "Listen to me Galen! I KNEW her. I knew everything about her. All of it. The universes full of unreality. The hidden bond. The unspoken conspiracy. There are more than a dozen already and they are going to keep coming and coming and coming."
Galen muttered, "An cmmg," to keep in the spirit of things but was clearly not getting the big picture. Vicasha let him slump back into the couch where he managed to find a half-smoked Salem and patted his pockets looking for a light. Vicasha looked out into the night, "I knew they were out there."
Galen followed her gaze and stopped searching for his lighter. He figured if it were out the window he'd never find it. Sighing, he relaxed his fingers and the Salem dropped to the floor.
Vicasha sighed in concert with Galen. "One of them was familiar. I could feel it. It was me. The only part of me still missing. Vrithetek. And so the hunt started again." She paced up and down the confines of the room. "And once more I ran like the wind, following the scents and the mental impressions he'd left. He was harder to track. You'd think a G'rnathan Battle Fiend would stand out, wouldn't you? But he was cunning. He kept to the shadows. And he was fast. Almost as fast as me. But not quite."
"He had been busy though, and if I could not find him I could follow his trail of chaos and destruction. It wasn't always easy to escape the cops and the curiosity seekers. I followed Vrithetek down to the docks. He was probably trying to get into a freighter, and if that happened I might never catch him."
Vicasha was pacing back and forth and Galen had given up on watching his nine-foot tall Amazonian hallucination because she was making him dizzy. He tried to stand and had some trouble so Vicasha helped him to his feet. He gestured to the bathroom and she helped him there too. He was carried back to the couch after emptying his bladder. He was awake enough to take another swig on the brandy as he gestured by rolling his finger in the air for her to continue.
"Ever been to the docks Galen? They stink. And that is to humans. To me they reeked more than you could possibly imagine. If you were looking to hide a distinct smell, then that would be the place to do it. Vrithetek knew how to shield his thoughts too so that didn't help me either."
Galen was definitely paying attention, "S'how didja find 'im?"
"Oh, I found him. Eventually. 'Oh, how fitting,' he said to me. 'I always knew you two deserved each other. Well, I hope you're happy in there Victor. I'm certainly happy in here. I was so sick of your constant whining.' He wasn't about to give up his new body. He was having a ball."
"You have no idea how much I hated him right at that moment. He was right. He is always right because nothing hurts like the truth. But I couldn't live... part of me needed... damn pronouns. Victor needed him. He was the part of Victor that held his power. Without him Victor was a ghost without substance or form." Vicasha pounded her chest, "I had form. I exist! And if I brought him back then it was the same as giving up my own existence."
Vicasha wrenched the bottle of brandy from Galen's protesting fingers and gestured with it. Galen watched the bottle swing back and forth in front of him as the illusion continued to speak. "Vrithetek," Vicasha snorted. "He didn't want to come back and I didn’t want him. He put up one hell of a fight. But," she tapped her chest and whispered conspiratorially, "he's in here. And now I've got all this shit in my head I need to sort out. I know you're not really paying attention, but what the heck. It's helping me."
Vicasha handed Galen the bottle and he greedily sucked on it before she snatched it back. When Galen pouted she shook her finger at him, "It’s empty."
She could see the few drops that clung to the inside of the bottle. She flung it at the wall and the remaining contents of the bottle made a pretty Rorschach pattern up the wall as the glass shattered into hundreds of pieces. "See? That's me! I am the mess that’s left over when I break into bits." She sat down on the floor with a loud thump and started to cry.
Vicasha huddled on herself, wallowing in self-pity for a few moments before the voices inside her clamoured for attention. Sighing, she wiped the tears from her face. “I know, I know. Be quiet. You'll get your lives back.” She raised her head and her gaze fixed on Galen, who had now slumped over on the couch. “But how can I be sure? You may not remember it all. And I'll still be gone.” She ran the back of her hand across her nose and sniffed. “Yes, of course. But promise me you'll try to remember.”
She stood finally, and prodded Galen with her foot. He mumbled through closed eyes, "Hrrummph? I'll 'memb'r f'ya." Vicasha shook her head and settled herself on the section of couch not taken up by the semi-comatose agent.
"Well, I suppose we have a lot of work to do tonight. Best get started." Vicasha slipped into an easy trance and began to sort the jigsaw pieces.
Sorting out the mess
Saturday, 27th August 2005 – 12:30am to 7am
Vicasha sat down at the folding table and spilled salt from the shaker their across its surface. Each of the tiny cubes bounced and hopped in slow motion to her enhanced senses until coming to rest on one of their six sides. She mused that her life had been a throw of the dice, a short-term gamble that paid off for Victor and Tash. She was the house and she had lost.
Each of the grains looked back at her and she could see the thousands of memories floating around in her mind reflected in the sides of the grains. Six sides, three (and more) viewpoints per memory. Each set of eyes, perceptions, and reflections on each event, letting her turn the memories to see a different side of each.
She closed her eyes and for the first time in almost twenty four hours let those voices have their own say.
*Don't want to go. Die! You will all die. Closer to you than I have ever been. Too much to control. How can I handle it all? Dig deep daughter, you know the way.*
*Shut up! All of you! I am in charge here.*
Vicasha's mind and Tash's consciousness merged. Victor sat back and chuckled. *This should be good. I trust you.*
If the grains of salt were memories then her mind was an ocean. The salt was dissolved in it and as Tash moved forward in Vicasha's mind her perception changed.
Tash floated. She was adrift on a vast ocean, currents swirling her this way and that. The water was warm and tingled on her skin. She held her hand up and watched the sunlight sparkle through the faceted droplets. Bringing her hand to her mouth, it wasn’t salty at all, as she expected. It was sweet. Warm and sweet.
*Hmm,* she smiled. She felt herself rolling unsteadily, her small hand being held by her mother. *My first pair of roller-skates.* Peering into the depths she could see reflections of herself, of Victor, of Vrithetek. And Ohenewaa. The old queen was there, too, as a shadowy, insubstantial figure. Her memories were here, but not her personality.
Tash dove into the water, feeling it close around her, but she didn’t drown. Instead she could feel all the crystals dissolved in the water. Crystals of her life and Ohenewaa’s memories floated in the solution of Victor’s warm water. Warm water that was both Vrithetek and Victor, hot and cold combined. She basked in that warmth. The temperature was just perfect, not too hot nor too cold. She could feel his presence in the background, observing her.
Reaching out her arms, she did as she always did with memories, and pulled them towards her. She’d never really thought about the process of her telepathy before, but it was exactly that. Pulling a memory forward. Tiny crystals began to solidify, separating themselves from the ocean solution. Crystals of salt, crystals of sugar. They began to form small piles at Tash's feet.
Victor felt the water around him losing its "flavor" but he could still remember the taste of her within him. *An odd feeling, being separated once again.*
He became aware of a chill and "saw" a warm steaming fog forming at his surface. Vrithetek was trying to escape. Victor concentrated on calming Vrithetek. He wanted to draw that heat into himself. He felt the old disciplines of meditation and reflection cooling the steam and transforming it from fog into a warm rain and dew.
Vrithetek/Victor blurred as they were purified by Tash. Distilled into one essence and one temperature. The meditations made Vrithetek boil and the disciplines surrounded him made eddies and currents. A wave crashed on the shore... but ran smoothly back into the sea...
Tash was standing on a beach of white crystals, watching the ocean waves subside and calm, until the sea was barely rippling. Gentle wavelets lapped at her shore and, satisfied that Victor and Vrithetek were sorting out their own pecking order, she turned her attention to herself. The pile of sugar crystals was dwarfed by the mound of salt that embodied Ohenewaa. Tash looked askance at it. Then at the ocean.
*No,* she sighed, *I can't give it to him. And it can't stay here. At least now I know what to do with it.* A wind picked up, swirling the salt into shapes. Ordered series of pyramids formed as Tash catalogued the vodoun queen's life. *She is not here any more. Her memories can't harm me. Unless I let them, like I did before.*
She lay on the beach among the sugar and let it absorb into her skin. There were still damp patches here and there. She hovered over the salt pyramids, peering into their depths as the sweetness of her own memories refilled her, made her Tash again. The salt shifted, forming a single large pyramid, above which floated Tash. She could see every single grain of salt, but none touched her. Yet without the pyramid's energy to hold her she would crash to the ground. She raised her head to survey the calm ocean.
*It is done.*
As she pronounced it the waters started to whirl around the base of the structure... they receded and rose in a spiral around the base. Wisps of steam played along the inside of the column as the sun was eclipsed by the water but its light filtered through the sheet of liquid making strange sparkles and patterns play around the dripping pyramid. Then she felt Victor start to let go... release himself from the place that she had built with her will. He was ready to pull away and be Victor again.
*I love you,* her thoughts echoed with the wind.
*And I love you too,* came the warm reply. *Let's do this.*
Tash opened her eyes. The room looked different. Not so bright as it had last night, even though it was now filled with sunlight. Her limbs felt heavier, somehow, unable to move with the grace and speed she'd felt over the past few days. Beside her sat Victor. She turned to face him and grasped his hands in hers, not flinching at the unbidden vision that arose from the touch of her bare skin against his. She no longer had his memories, but she could remember being Vicasha and knowing them. It was like a vaguely remembered tune from her childhood. The vision from him no longer held any sway over her mind. She gazed deeply into his eyes, not needing to speak.
Her own life was still there, and Ohenewaa’s memories lurked in the background, but they no longer squatted like some horrible monster waiting to pounce. They were simply there. Harmless. Just the memory of someone else’s bad dream. And Vicasha. Yes, she could remember being Vicasha. Knew how it felt to track by scent alone. Knew how it felt to use her powers to their fullest capacity.
She refocused, her eyes still boring into Victor’s. She could see his gaze was directed inward, too.
Victor (or was it Vrithetek now?) was enjoying the quiet. He was both angry and sad at being no longer part of Vicasha...he remembered the fear and the regret as well as the sense of triumph that she felt at surviving as part of both of them. Victor focused his eyes on Tash's and smiled.
"I love you, Tash. You are an amazing woman. But let’s never ever do that again."
Tash grinned, feeling both more alive and emptier at the same time. "I second the motion." Her hand lifted to stroke his face. "But I feel I know you now in a way I never could have. Even though you're not in here, part of me still knows how it felt to be joined. I love you." She bent to kiss him. Their lips met tenderly, gently exploring each other as though for the first time.
Victor sort of chuckled while they were kissing. Tash pulled back and gave him a "What?" look. "We are closer than a husband and wife. We've been 'married' for real. Do I go by Victor Brookes? Or are you Natasha Tek?"
Tash laughed despite herself. "Both, I think." She turned her head slightly and spotted Galen slumped on his couch, a line of drool tracing its way down his chin. "Uh, and before we wake him up, I think we should find some clothes," she said, gesturing to their naked bodies.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Saturday, 27th August 2005 – 10am
It was a bit disorienting when he first started to wake up. Galen could tell that he was lying on something soft, and his mouth tasted like carpet. His body made a nice 'thud' as he rolled over and hit the floor. *Damn, that hurt.* Slowly he pushed himself back up to his feet and stumbled to the kitchen, feeling the familiar ache of a hangover in his head.
There was a bottle of aspirin in the kitchen for just this kind of occasion - best to keep supplies on hand. Getting a glass of water, he took two and started out for the living room again, closing his eyes for a moment. "I'm definitely getting too old for this," he muttered.
On the way out, he noticed two rather familiar forms. Tash and Victor? Wearing his clothes? *Nah, can't be. Still hallucinating.* He casually walked past the two of them and into his bedroom, putting down the water before throwing the suit jacket on the bed. Changing his mind about getting changed, he moved back to the living room to finally sit down in a chair before shutting his eyes and resting.
"Don't think you are getting off that easily Assistant Director Eldridge. I saw you," said Victor from the kitchen, " We've been waiting for you." Victor carefully disengaged himself from a very drowsy Tash and sat on the couch next to Galen. "You were pretty wasted last night. Do you remember anything at all?"
Opening his eyes, Galen glanced over and saw Victor sitting on the couch. Either this was the most interactive hangover he had ever had, or the guy really was there. On instinct, he reached for his gun to find the holster empty. *Must have fallen out in the bedroom. Or somewhere around here, I hope.*
"How did you get in here?" he asked, ignoring the question.
Tash stirred and mumbled, "You let us in." She opened her eyes and winced inwardly at Galen's condition. He couldn't be feeling too bright this morning. "You were a little under the weather at the time."
The shock of a second voice got Galen to jump up and look around. He let them in? When? All he remembered was a really weird dream about some Project Lazarus reject mumbling something about eating and a Vrith-something. A moment later, he regained his composure. "Okay, so I let you in. Why are you still here?" The grief at losing Kate kicked in again, which with the hangover, put him in no mood for games or pleasantries.
Galen's unshielded thoughts caught Tash and her face fell. "Oh no..." she said before stopping herself. "Uh, I mean, we were trying to tell you something last night. And it's important, Galen. But you weren't in a position to really take it in. And I'm afraid we took the opportunity to," she glanced conspiratorially at Victor, "get our heads sorted out."
She looked back at Galen's distraught face. "And I can tell you're not really okay this morning, and I'm sorry, but I don't think this can wait. We're going to need your help, I think."
Victor looked at Galen's bloodshot eyes and went back to the kitchen to get him some more water. Along the way he stopped long enough to kiss Tash quickly.
"Okay, so you need my help," Galen said, considering the pair carefully. Kate had said something about being dropped off at Tash's... could she have said anything? He hoped not. "What am I supposed to do, then? I'm just an AD in the Bureau. I push papers and agents around, to make sure everything goes into neat bureaucratic cubby-holes."
"You are also the only person who is in the Government who knows the truth," Victor's air-quotes emphasised what he was talking about. "That we know and trust."
Tash gave Victor a strange look. *Wouldn’t go so far as trust,* she thought before forming her face into an impassive mask.
Galen glanced around for several moments, considering what that could mean. Only one possibility occurred to him. "Don't move. I will be back in a minute."
He bolted downstairs to his car, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. Removing a briefcase from the back, he returned back upstairs as quickly as he could. Better safe than sorry, which was why he made sure to pick up the device. The briefcase was placed down on the table, and opened up to reveal a mass of electronics inside. Galen flipped a switch. "I like to be on the safe side. We should be able to talk in peace... just don't leave a 20 foot radius of this gadget. After that, I can't guarantee the interference will work."
"I won't pretend to understand what you are talking about, but then again that isn't my specialty," said Victor eyeing the device suspiciously.
"I suppose that we should start about five days ago," said Victor looking to Tash for confirmation. She nodded, and he continued. His story covered the kidnapping of Tash and the actions of her duplicate; the escape of Vrithetek; the birth of Vicasha and her pursuit of the duplicates. Tash added additional detail about her duplicate stealing her scars and Victor was clear that these duplicates were indistinguishable from their originals. The tale ended with them coming to Galen's apartment. A furtive glance between them was enough to let Galen know that there was more about that experience then they were telling.
Galen listed the tale, trying to absorb everything he could. Several reports came floating back to his mind, and suddenly the cases made sense. They had been covering it up for weeks now. Still, he could find no reason to admit it to Tash or Victor. There was no need for them to know. "Once again, not my department," he lied. "Yes, I know about things out there, but that doesn't mean we're involved in everything that goes on. The only reason I was there for that thing with Serapis is because kidnapping is a Federal offence. I can't help you."
“You know, I was under the impression that murder was a Federal offence, too," Tash smiled sweetly. She gestured to the device sitting before them. "And don't tell me it's standard FBI practice to set up the 'cone of silence' in your living room."
She sat forward, "And for a simple FBI agent you really seem rather unsurprised by our descriptions of demons and magic. Galen, whatever you're mixed up in, if it involved keeping the knowledge that demons exist from the general public, there's no need to worry. We already know they do."
He swallowed hard after hearing that. "I warned you about opening doors best left shut. What do you think you know?"
Tash and Victor's voices answered in unison, "Majestic."
Galen glanced around for his gun, only to find it wasn't anywhere in sight. He was afraid to ask, but had to. "How?"
"Galen, stop stressing. We know it exists, ok? That's all. But I've been hunting vampires for thirteen years now. And as for Victor, well... we know about demons, trust me." Tash sighed. "But the knowledge we got from the doubles is too big for us to handle. I don't care about your super-secret whatever. But unless you want this thing to take over the world, you might want to consider helping us."
Galen looked around the room nervously some more, before finding a pack of cigarettes and lighting one. Oddly, it helped to calm him some. How did they expect him to not be nervous when Kate had left him over it, could very well be in danger because of him?
"We're actually already... partly aware of the situation," he finally said. Then another detail came to mind. They were going to have problems making this disappear, if they had to eliminate the duplicates. *Great. We're going to have to make Rodman 'disappear.'*
"One word of caution. Mention the agency to no one. Trust me on this."
"We aren't going to tell anyone. You will just have to trust us on that," Victor kept his voice low. "But this is very close to us, and we may be the only thing that can stop it. We will keep you informed and you can pass that back to your 'agency'. That's all we are asking."
"One other thing," Tash bit her lip. "You were dropped off by a friend of yours. He shouldn't remember anything other than dropping you off and leaving again, but it's possible something may creep back. If it does, hopefully it'll be nothing more than a vague feeling of someone being here. You should be able to just pass it off." Tash really didn't want to be telling Galen about this, but Vicasha's ability to alter Henry's memory had been a surprise to her and she wasn't really sure how well it would work. Though it had felt seamless at the time.
"And you did a pretty good job of munging your own memory last night," Victor laughed.
"Gee, thanks," Galen said, no small bit of sarcasm in his voice. They had messed with Henry's memories? He hoped it wouldn't affect his ability to work. Good administrators were really hard to find, and the last thing he needed was more paperwork to do.
"Henry is just a co-worker, who is not exactly in the loop about this." He gripped the back of his head in pain before collapsing back in the chair again. The depression started to return. "Damn, I should have said something sooner," he muttered, burying his face in his hands.
Tash crouched next to Galen, gently stroking his shoulder. "That's the problem with paranoia. It doesn't let you trust the people you should trust." Tash had to wince at her own words. She herself didn't trust Galen. Not fully.
Taking a deep breath, she figured she may as well go for broke. "And I know how much Kate loves you. I'm sure she'll see her way past this sooner or later."
Galen's eyes went wide as he glanced over at Tash. That was right, she had wanted to see her yesterday. It made sense for her to tell Tash about what happened. "Is she safe?" he croaked out.
Tash inhaled sharply, "I don't know, Galen. I've spent the past couple of days as part of the entity Vicasha, remember." His emotions were so strong, she could almost see him dropping Kate off at Poplar. "But I'm sure she'll have found a friend to stay with."
She looked up at Victor, who shrugged. "Jade, perhaps," Tash finished.
As Galen started to remember more of the story about Vicasha, he worked out that she, he, it - whatever you could call it - was telepathic. One or both of the people in the room might be as well, and there was one way to test and both drive home his worries. He forced his face to remain impassive as he looked at Tash, and tried to think to her as well he could: *There was a reporter, once, who was killed. Her only crime was digging too deep.* More guilt came to surface as memories of his first human kill as a member of MJ12 worked their way to the surface.
Tash felt her stomach clench. The memories from Vrithetek and the Tash clone were fresh, and were far worse than this simple kill Galen recalled. But neither of those perpetrators had been human. Galen was. She knew her eyes flickered, and that Galen was testing her. She could see the spike of triumph in his aura. "It's your conscience, Galen. You have to live with the consequences of whatever you've done to keep your secrets safe. Including Kate."
Galen glanced back and forth between Tash and Victor. Tash, at least, was a telepath, which he probably should have worked out sooner. "I never cared about keeping my secrets from her," he said. "Only protecting her. That's all that matters to me." *And if my superiors ever find out what I've done to do that, I'm a dead man.*
"Galen,” Victor said, “you have been on our side when we have faced some incredible forces. You don't have armor or powers or magic to protect you. You really should not be tampering with the supernatural. But here you are. Your help would be appreciated. If you can't help then we will go away. But do not think that we are going to let this danger stand unanswered. The government has the resources to track these duplicates; it will take us a lot longer to do the same thing. And in that time the problem will get worse."
Victor was starting to get angry. He stood and began to pace back and forth and he clenched his fist and shook it at Galen, "I don't ask for much, just pass along the word. That’s all. It’s not like we are asking you to give us the world on platter or reveal any of your precious secrets. Just tell them. Get then to act. Isn't that what your 'agency' was created for?"
Galen lost control.
Between the lecture from Victor, his worry over Kate, the grief, and the pain from the hangover, the last straw finally broke. For one moment, he didn't care how much they knew or thought they knew. He could feel Tash holding him back as he bolted to his feet.
“Bring it on, G-man," Victor growled.
"You don't understand," Galen snapped. "I don't even know if I can help! I have a limited amount of resources under my control, most of them tied up in making sure this never hits the papers! I've spent the past six months since my promotion fighting command for more resources, which my predecessor did unsuccessfully for two years! Then on top of that, I have enemies who wouldn't mind threatening the woman I love to keep their pet project running. Now you show up, telling me this little problem we've been burying is not so little. Tell you what, YOU be the one to remove Dennis Rodman!"
Galen's head began to swim and his breath grew short as he moved to sit back down.
Victor moved close to Galen’s face and said with clear menace, "If you don’t I will."
Galen managed to finally remember his cigarette, taking a long drag. One thing he had learned was that you could never afford to let a demon think he could intimidate you, even one supposedly needing your help. "I've killed people for less," he said in a flat voice.
Victor recognised bravado when he saw it, and he respected it. Knowing what Galen knew, facing Victor down took nerve, "I don't want to be your enemy, Galen. I want your help. If you can't then we need to go... there's a lot of work to be done." Victor stood and backed up. He walked back into the kitchen and began to gather up the leftover clothing from Vicasha.
Tash was still crouched by Galen's chair. She stood, straightening her legs and gazed down at Galen as he puffed nonchalantly on his cigarette. But she could see the spikes and swirls in his aura, betraying his vast inner turmoil.
"Victor's right, you know. From what we could learn, there's going to be more of these things every day. Replacing people. Until they reach critical mass." Tash's voice grew flatter as she tried to control her own temper. "And I don't give a damn if it's Dennis Rodman or the fucking President of the United States. If it's a doppelganger it's got to be spooged. And I'm sorry that Kate's left you, but to be brutally honest, right now I can see why. Stop whining about the obstacles in front of you and get on with your damn job!"
Tash stopped, sure she'd gone too far, but dammit, she had to do something to get Galen out of his funk.
"I think I'll do that," Galen said. He couldn't take it any more. If they wanted him to do his job, fine, he would. Starting with the two of them and standard procedure. Getting up, he moved off to the bedroom. Right there in the middle of the floor was his gun. The slide was audible as he chambered a round and started back out into the living room.
Tash's voice floated from the next room, "Ok, you can kill us and hide the bodies. What then? How are you going to track the clones? We've been telepathically linked to them. We can recognise them." Her voice shifted, coming from the hallway now. "And it won't help you to win Kate back if you start murdering her friends."
Victor moved to block the doorway to the bedroom until Galen had calmed down. "Galen, we aren't asking you to save the world alone. It’s not your job to accept all of that responsibility. We just want you to help in any way you can. I guarantee that if a time comes where you need our special kind of help you can depend on us to be discreet and helpful."
Galen was still unable to believe how angry he was, his rage barely held in check as Victor stood there in the doorway. The one saving concern that prevented him from firing was Tash’s mention of Kate. She was still the one thing that mattered to him, the only thing that mattered to him.
Glancing down at the gun, he tossed it on the bed. "All right, here's the deal. We know of at a dozen bodies found which may be from these things. I'm in charge of operations in the Los Angeles area, so I can assure you of our help. In return, I want you to keep Kate safe."
Tash reappeared, sliding past Victor to stand before Galen. A quick glance showed her the gun was safely more than arm's length away. "Kate is her own woman, and tends to rush headlong into situations. But I will do my best to keep her safe. I want her alive too, you know." Inwardly Tash cringed. The last time she'd promised to keep someone safe it had been to a dying woman in a wheelchair. And her daughters hadn't been safe. They were still comatose in hospital.
She relaxed her features into a smile, "Galen, I'm sorry. I got riled and said things... well, things I really shouldn't have. But I know how Kate feels about you. She loves you."
Victor placed a hand on Tash's shoulder, "Tash is right, we don't want to see anything happen to Kate, and if you say she is in danger we can prepare ways to defend her that won't compromise you. She's our friend and you are too."
"That may be more difficult than you realise," he cautioned, motioning the pair back towards the living room. *Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound.* "Her place was under surveillance, without my knowledge. Probably bugged me as well - hence the reason for the countermeasures." Galen paused again in thought for a moment. "Bit of advice: avoid flu shots."
“Uh, ok... Flu shots, huh?" Tash frowned. "How long has Kate's place been bugged?" She cast a worried glance at Victor.
Victor returned her concerned look, "Has Kate told you about anything that they might have seen or heard from her house?"
"First, I have no idea how long," Galen said, his own look as concerned as theirs. "The only reason I even know is because we had a... disagreement. As for what she told me, about your change of appearance, well, no. Just the movies, dinner... then we made love..." His voice trailed off and became distant again, as the depression threatened to return to him.
Victor looked somewhat more relieved and he was concerned for Galen's state of mind. "Take it easy there, Galen. Disagreements happen, and after a while you forgive each other and yourselves. Hold on to hope. But do you think that the folks bugging her might know about... everything?"
Victor replayed the day in his mind, he had mentioned Sorrow and the Society, Janus, the Stone and Poplar... he'd been a regular chatterbox. *Shit, I'm screwed.*
Galen had to sit down. He hoped Victor was right, that she could forgive him, but how could she with the way he had lied to her for so long? Without realising it, he found himself back on the couch in the living room. "It's safe to operate on the assumption anything you said in her house, they heard. Maybe even watched." A connection was finally made. "FUCK! They would also have access to the reports I filed."
Victor frowned, "I am not even going to ask what all you have been filing reports on. But I can only assume that from your reaction that your 'agency' has a lot more on us than we could ever hope to have on them." Victor looked around the room, "Where do you think they might have hidden these 'bugs'...maybe I can help you find them. That might give you one haven."
"Wouldn't work. Trust me, they would just bug the place again." Galen sighed again, wanting another cigarette. "I'm a dead man anyway at this point, so what harm is there in telling you? You're only mentioned in the Cloch Cosan and that thing back in March." He paused for a moment, unsure of exactly how to continue. "And, um - well, that is... you kind of show up, in, er, Kate's file. I had to make some... alterations... to it..." It was as close as he would come to saying that he had brazenly falsified official records.
Victor sighed. "It’s done then. Can't be changed, no matter what you alter. Assume they know everything at this point. But what strikes me as odd is why Kate? Why you? Who is out to get you, Galen Eldridge?"
Galen lay down on the couch and draped his arm over his eyes. Now the headache was starting to come back. The simple answer was simply to refuse to answer, but then they would dig anyway. He appreciated the irony of his situation. To protect Kate, he had to lie to her constantly; now to protect her friends he had to tell the truth.
"I don't know, exactly. Someone high up in Majestic 12 has been protecting the blackest of the black projects, an attempt to create the perfect soldier. A super-weapon. So far as I know, there have been attempts to create an artificial soldier, something they called '314'. More recently, attempts to augment human soldiers, forcing our bodies to replicate demon physiology."
Tash had been sitting quietly, absorbing what Galen was saying. She'd been thinking about her conversations with Kate and Victor in her house. She was sure they'd know about her telepathy. And they'd spoken at length about Sorrow and Xavier. *He won't be best pleased to learn we've dropped him in it, however inadvertently. Shit! I'll have to tell him not to look into Majestic any more. He may already have dug too far, dammit.*
Galen's voice replayed itself in her mind as she registered what he'd just been telling them. She looked across at him sharply, "Let me guess. Flu shots." She made a wry face. "And wouldn't they just love to get their hands on a demon like Victor. He's already been designed as a super soldier." She grasped Victor's hand and squeezed tightly. *One hunt ends just for another to begin. Will it always be like this?* She offered her lover a watery smile.
Victor saw the exhaustion on her face and felt the comforting squeeze. He smiled back at her and turned to face Galen once more, "Well I was a failure in that regard. I am just grateful I am the only one of my kind in this dimension."
Victor rose and offered an arm to Tash, "Galen, we need to be going. We shall check in on Kate and see what we can do to convince her to steer clear of her home for a while. And do yourself a favour; spend some time taking care of yourself. Clean up these cigarette butts and take out some of this trash.”
Victor bent over and picked up a piece of paper just sticking out from under the couch. At a glance it was a list of military installations. Victor just tossed it on the coffee table. “Take care of you Galen, the world isn't going to end tomorrow."
"Just make sure you keep Kate safe," he called out weakly, still not feeling like moving. "That's all I care about."
Tash squeezed Galen's shoulder. "We'll do our very best, believe me. And I'll talk to her, if she'll listen." She glanced at her hands, encased in Galen's over-large gloves. She forced a grin, "And we'll get your clothes back to you as soon as we can."
She rooted among the rubbish on the coffee table for a pen, and grabbed a tatty piece of paper lying there. It had a list of addresses on one side so she flipped it over and scribbled on the back. "These are my phone numbers, home and mobile. Please, if you need to talk about Kate, or anything else, just call. Any time." She smiled as she handed the paper to Galen.
Galen continued to lie there on the couch, completely unmoving, the paper sitting on top of his chest. The depression and hangover were both setting in to the point where it took too much energy to move his hand the necessary small bit to place it in his pocket or on the table.
Tash sighed. There really wasn't anything else she could do for him right now. "Take care, Galen," she said before slipping her arm under Victor's. They shrugged in unison, then left Galen to his despair.
The wheels of Bureaucracy are in motion....
Constillias Publications
Saturday, 27 August 2005
2pm
The cameras in the conference room had been turned off for the meeting.
Normally Anthony Constillias sat at the head of the table in the conference room, various other executives seated around, offering reports. Now he sat impassively, watching from one of the side seats. Detective Rachel Grey of the Los Angeles police department was also there. A few other people sat around the table as well. It was Galen Eldridge who occupied the seat at the head, having called the meeting, with an ashtray sitting next to him. “Thank you for coming,” Galen said, taking a drag from his cigarette before placing it down again. “I just received some rather disturbing information today. The problem with our John Doe murders is more serious than we thought.”
He went on to explain the problem in all the detail that he had been given by Tash and Victor. They were able to explain many of the oddities to the bodies that had been found, and made the situation grave indeed. “I would like to know your source for this information,” Anthony said. “I find it hard to believe that we could miss something of this magnitude.”
“My sources are anonymous, for their own protection,” said Galen, staring daggers at Anthony. “As for our missing this, you’re in intelligence. You should know how many times we learn about these things at the last minute. We almost missed the Cloch Cosan, for example.”
“Well, that’s true-“ Anthony began.
“I’m not finished yet,” Galen snapped. It had taken him about an hour after Tash and Victor left to work up the energy to even move, much less think. By the time everyone was gathered, his fuse was very short. “There have been a few other instances since then in which our involvement was either purely accidental or last-minute, though the events in question posed a significant threat to national security. It’s not that unusual.”
“Very well, I accept that,” Anthony replied, his brow knitted together in worried concern. “However, do we have any way to check this source’s veracity?”
Galen leaned back in his chair. His face remained impassive while puffing on the cigarette again, and an uncomfortable silence hung in the room. Anthony recognized the move for what it was, an attempt at intimidation. “They know it’s in their interests to be truthful with us. Besides, either we act now or risk them acting – which could expose the truth.”
Detective Grey cut off Anthony before he could say anything else, seeing no point in permitting the clash of egos to continue. “What are we supposed to do, then? There are probably more of them than the bodies we’ve already found.”
“Then there’s the whole issue with one of them being Dennis Rodman,” said another woman in black present in the room. “We also can’t forget the head of that law firm.”
“Taking care of it shouldn’t pose too many problems,” Galen said. “Maybe this will even convince Command to finally give us additional resources. Detective, I will need a list of all bodies we can identify. Individual eliminations will be handled on a case by case basis.
“I already took the liberty of pulling the information on the lawyer,” he added, pulling a small envelope from his jacket. He passed it down the table to one of the agents. “This contains his departure information for tomorrow night, a skydiving course. It would be a shame if the plane suffered mechanical failure while in mid-flight.”
You could have heard a pin drop from the silence in the room at that moment. Anthony raised an eyebrow at that, while the agent swallowed and nodded in understanding. Galen glanced around the others at the table. “I’ll get in touch with Command later on today. Once I have the list and that happens, will assign particular targets to control. Until then, watch the morgues. A memo will arrive shortly containing all the information I have.”
Galen was burying himself in work. Signalling the end of the meeting, he stood and began towards the door. The other people present were too shocked to argue. *What happened to him? When did you become so dedicated, Mr. Eldridge?* thought Anthony.
A Shoulder To Cry On
1318 Poplar Avenue
Friday, 26 August 2005
7:30am
Kate knocked on Tash's apartment door again and waited. She had already tried Victor's apartment and was met with the same empty silence. She secretly wondered if everything was all right; she hadn't seen Tash or Victor since the party at Bibliophile but it was strange that neither one appeared to be home at such an early hour in the morning.
Kate sighed, her breath catching in her throat and tears getting ready to flood her eyes. She slumped against the wall and held her forehead in her hands. She'd been determined not to cry in front of Galen but now she just felt overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she was so tired her eyes hurt as did a relentless thumping in her head. Tash wasn't home, neither was Victor... more than anything Kate needed a friend right now, a shoulder to cry on...
"Kate?" Jade's soft, questioning voice had Kate's head snapping back up. "It is you!" Jade gestured uncomfortably as she came closer. "Your hair colour... I..." Jade's sentence broke off as she noticed Kate's white face and the pain in her eyes. "My God, are you ok?" She rushed forward, all awkwardness forgotten at the concern she felt for her friend.
"Jade?" Kate could hardly remember the last time she had seen her friend and former employer. "I'm, um..." Kate mumbled in an effort to master her emotions. She felt a lump rising in her throat and a few stray tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Wait, wait..." Linking an arm with Kate's, Jade guided her toward 208, digging in her tote for her keys.
Once they were inside and comfortably ensconced on the couch, coffee and cigarettes on the table before them and a huge box of tissues within easy reach, Jade squeezed Kate's hand gently. "Now... What happened?"
Kate blew her nose and wiped her eyes. "I don't really know where to start" she croaked, still choked up with emotion. "I've been... seeing someone, for a while now," Kate paused, trying to work out the best way to explain everything that had happened since she had last seen Jade. "I, I love him."
"Ok... Errr... Anyone I know?" Jade asked, a little unsure of what to say next. It sounded strange to hear Kate speak of another man. In Jade's mind, Kate and Lucien were still an item. *They might still be if Tris hadn't... Stop that!* Jade took a deep breath, reached out for her pack of cigarettes, lit one and offered it to Kate.
Kate took the cigarette and inhaled deeply. She could sense Jade's confusion, and something else... guilt? She cleared her head of the thoughts, she was too tired for this. "I don't know if you know him or not. His name is Galen Eldridge and...” she looked up blankly, exhaling a small cloud of smoke, "...he works for the FBI."
"Agent Eldridge!" Jade couldn't quite contain her surprise. At Kate's questioning look, Jade gave her a small smile. "We've met... The time when you were kidnapped. He came by the apartment to see if I could help in his investigations. Actually, if I recall, he shot my lock, knocked down my door, pulled a gun on me, then asked me very politely if I'd mind giving him whatever information I had on you and the Coven of Sindell..." Jade handed Kate another tissue as tears threatened again and patted her shoulder comfortingly. "Despite the way we were 'introduced', I kind of got the impression that he's a pretty decent guy..." Jade trailed off, waiting to see how her friend would continue.
Kate smiled weakly and wiped at her eyes again. "He is," Kate's expression softened slightly as she stared into nothingness. "He's so gentle, and caring... and... passionate. Things happened so quickly between us, everything just felt so natural and easy. I've never known that before, there's always been something standing in the way. I mean, I loved Luc, and I a part of me always will. When I lost him I never thought I would be able to feel that way about anyone ever again." Kate sighed tiredly and ran her fingers through her hair. "Then there was Galen, and he helped me... he made me want to go on living again, and he made me feel like there was something good and honest and safe in this world."
*Well, it sure as hell wasn't the good, honest and safe side of him that upset you like this!* Jade quickly reined her thoughts in - she remembered the extent of Kate's psychic abilities and didn't want to rub salt into the wound. Instead, she just stubbed out her cigarette and sat with Kate quietly. *Don't push!* Jade told herself sternly. *Let Kate tell it her own way.*
"I thought I knew him," continued Kate quietly. "I thought I knew what he was capable of. Now I realise I didn't know him at all." Kate looked up at Jade, pain and hurt visible in her eyes. "He's lied to me, about everything. About what he does, who he is... and it changes everything."
"Do you think he," Jade hesitated slightly, "loves you too?"
"If you had asked me that question yesterday, I'd have said yes, without a doubt. But now? I just don't what to believe." Kate sank back into the sofa and closed her eyes for a moment, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. After a few minutes she continued. "I want to believe that he loves me because, despite everything I know now..." Kate's breath caught in her throat as she choked back more tears. "I'm still in love with him, and it's so painful. I feel like he's betrayed me, that he never really trusted me enough to tell me the truth."
Jade thought back to the time when Sorrow had disappeared after finding out about his vampiric nature. How frantic she had been and how much it had hurt when she finally knew why he had left. She had accused him of dishonesty, refused his explanations of wanting to protect her, of wanting to protect the both of them... and the consequences had been disastrous!
"Sometimes," Jade said slowly, "The ones closest to you are the ones you have the most difficulties talking to. It's not so much a matter of dishonesty and lies. More one of priorities and which you think is more important." She met Kate's gaze. "I'm not taking Galen's side nor am I saying that what he did was right... I'm just saying that he probably had his reasons for keeping the truth from you and those might not necessarily be due to a lack of trust on his part."
"I... can't tell you exactly what's going on," began Kate, realising the irony of the situation. That Galen had kept the truth from her in order to keep her 'safe' and now that she would have to do the same to her friends. All she could hear was Galen's voice from earlier that morning... "Kate, you have to promise me. You can’t tell this to anyone. If the wrong person found out, I might not be able to protect you”...“You have to promise me... you can't tell this to anybody"...
She had promised Galen she wouldn't say anything, and surely the kinds of people he worked for, worked with could just as easily harm her friends as they could Galen or herself.
"Some of the things Galen is involved in... they're dangerous; the people he works for are capable of terrible things. I know he probably lied just to keep me safe but he knows the kind of things that I do, what I've been through. He should know that I'd be able to handle it."
"Maybe it was because he knew what you've been through He was locked up together with you when Serapis tortured you, wasn't he? Maybe he's trying to protect you and prevent anything like that from happening again." She suppressed a shudder. The look in Kate's eyes when she spoke of Galen's associates made Jade uneasy. "Like how you're protecting me now by not telling me what you've found out."
Kate looked away. Inside she knew, she knew why Galen had felt the need to protect her but that knowledge didn't make it any easier for her to accept all the lies that he had told her and this separate life that he had kept hidden from her. Kate yawned tiredly, realising that she had hardly slept in the past 24 hours. "Not that I mean to change the conversation but, you don't happen to know where Tash or Victor are do you?" she asked tiredly. "It's just that, I kind of need somewhere to stay for a few nights," Kate laughed slightly "I have this terrible bug problem at my place."
"I'm presuming that this 'bug problem' isn't the sort that'll go away with a can of Baygon or an exterminator... As for a place to stay, you're more than welcome to stay here with me, if you want to." Jade smiled tentatively, clamping down her apprehensions about having Sorrow and Kate under the same roof. *I just hope that Tris understands, I can't not help a friend, especially since it's Kate!* Jade's heart ached for her friend - Kate looked exhausted.
"About Victor and Tash... They're not here. I don't know where they are exactly but we need to find them soon!" Jade knew that Kate was exhausted but this couldn't wait. "Some very strange things have been happening around Poplar in the last couple of days. Tris had an... encounter... with Tash while they were training together on Monday. He told Victor about it, and we haven't seen them since!"
Jade took the note she had found earlier from her bag and passed it to Kate. "Then I found this under my door. It got mixed up in some old magazines, which is why I didn't see it till this morning. It could have been there for days!"
Kate read the note quickly, a frown slowly appearing across her face as she finished. “Shapeshifters? I definitely don’t like the sound of that.” She sighed heavily, feeling an oppressive weight upon her soul. “There’s always something isn’t there? Some evil to resist, a battle to fight, wrongs to right. For once I would like the world to just stop and give me time to think. Life really sucks sometimes.”
At Jade’s blank stare Kate shook her head slowly in apology, “I’m sorry, I can’t think straight.” There was the truth; too much weighed heavily upon her mind, the burden was so great she thought it might crush her beneath it. Galen, Majestic, Daye, Ryan, Tash, Victor, Xavier, The Black Veins… Sorrow… Luc… she missed him so much. She was dying for a simpler time, when things weren’t so complicated, when lies and deceit didn’t come as standard in a relationship. She wanted to feel that again, implicit trust, even in just one person.
“Do you think the horrors of the waking world might wait a few hours while I get some sleep?” Kate asked emptily. She felt so hollow, like her insides had been scooped out with a spoon through her heart.
“Of course. The guest bedroom is through that door there,” Jade pointed, “If you want to take a shower, clean towels are in the bathroom closet. And there’re leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry.”
She paused, then plunged ahead with what was troubling her. “If you’re worried about bumping into Tris while you’re here, don’t. He’s gone back to his apartment to do some work and I doubt he’ll be back today.” *Which, considering how tense things have been between the both of us recently, might be a good thing.*
Kate sighed slightly in relief at Jade’s words. She was thankful that she wouldn’t have to go through a confrontation with Sorrow, at least not just yet anyway. There were other things too that she had to deal with, but right now all she wanted to do was sleep.
Jade continued, “I’m heading down to XY. If you feel up to it, maybe you could drop by later. See what I’ve done to the new shop.” Jade got up and hugged Kate, hard. “If not, then I’ll see you back here tonight.” She dug into her bag again and yanked out her key ring. Undoing it, she handed a silver key. “Here’s the spare.”
Signs and Portents
Area 51
Saturday, 27 August 2005
5pm
The office of the man known throughout MJ12 as The Gentleman was well furnished, as befitted one of the most powerful men in the agency. Although the 12 members of Command were equal on paper, there was still an unspoken order within it, based on the influence and respect each member carried. For Algernon Farefax, this was a great deal of influence indeed. Another man sat in a chair near him, Walther Jones, the Director of Security for the agency, his jet black hair combed back. Algernon checked his watch one final time, when the door to the office opened. A young, attractive, middle-aged black woman entered. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said.
“Quite all right,” replied Algernon as she sat down in the remaining chair. “We knew these kinds of delays would happen, Dr Larsson, when one of our own became director of FEMA. However, now we may begin.”
“I’ve received interesting reports about your man in LA,” said Jones, not giving anyone else the chance to go on. This needed to be spoken of now. “Some indications of his tampering with official records are coming to light, all related to a woman named Catherine Wiccham. Nothing we can’t ignore for the time being, but he may be on to something.”
“There is always that possibility,” replied Algernon. “However, we will bring an end to Lazarus, of that I have no doubt. We have little choice in the matter.”
“Does he know about Chimera? You were supposed to be the best man, so you should know.”
“No, I do not believe he does. However, he may very well learn about it eventually. When that happens, I’m very afraid of what he’ll do.”
“She also never wanted him involved, but that happened anyway.”
“We may have other problems,” Larsson said. “The latest report from our Aurora spy planes has come in. They appear to be preparing to move on another world.”
The pair of men considered this news in silence for a few minutes, before Algernon spoke. “Do we know who they are preparing to move on?”
“Our informant indicates we may be next. Subjugation or extermination is unclear.”
“It they plan to subjugate us, we have a chance,” said Jones. “Too bad the virus mutated. Eliminating their immune system would have been good.”
“We always knew the virus was a risk,” said Farefax. “Still, the epidemic did give the bleeding hearts something to complain about.” He paused for a moment in thought. “Unless we can discover their plans, we must assume this will be a war for survival. At Command’s next meeting, we may have to push for adopting Special Directive 17. Are your people in place?”
Jones nodded. “The Vice President will be ready to declare a state of emergency in the event of an invasion. We already have a patsy.”
Larsson sighed, both her and Algernon not liking what they had to consider doing, but seeing no other alternative. “My people will be in place within the month,” said Larsson. “FEMA will be ready to assume control of the Federal Government.”
“May God have mercy on us all,” Algernon said. “If only FDR took this as seriously as Truman.”
“We all know what it took to get Truman to act. Even with the crash, it still took 5 months.”
“That’s true. The main facility is too public, and we must place the contingency plan into effect,” said Algernon. “Our friends in Lazarus will, of course, never allow this, as it will risk their exposure. We must push them out of power as soon as possible. Griffin and this Wiccham woman may come in handy.”
hows this for rut-out-getting fun?
With guest appearance of Alice playing Jemima Renton. hehe.
**** Paris – December 1859 ****
The chill of the deep French winter would catch up with the room every time the large doors were opened to the beautifully dressed women and gentlemen that walked in. Tonight this hotel would be host to the rich of Europe.
Her dress was of a dark red shade, with maroon sheer sleeves and tightly corseted around her small body. “Bonsoir Monsieur,” she smiled politely as she placed her gloved hand out in front of her, the engagement ring shimmering and catching the dim but intimate light of the candles that jutted out from holders in the walls.
“Bonjour Mademoiselle.” David took her hand lightly in his own and kissed it gently. After a moment he released his hold, placed her hand back in her lap and sat down close by her side.
“Comment ça va?” she asked as he sat next to her and slipped an arm around her waist.
“Ça va bein, merci, et tu?”
“I feel even better now you’re back, David. Where did you go?” she continued in English; she was determined to use as little French as possible on this trip before they left for David’s house in York the following day.
“I went to get you a drink.” He smiled and handed the glass of champagne.
“Thank you, kind sir.” For a second she paused “Hmm... Shall we go somewhere…quieter?” David raised an eyebrow as she leant forward giving him a teasing glance at her breasts.
“Jemima, your mother and father are here.”
“They don’t have to know, David. We can go to my room.”
“It’s not right… we should be wed –“
“David, please don’t start with the social etiquette I have no objections, and neither do you.” At that she grinned wickedly, stood up and taking David’s hand led him into the foyer.
“We can’t leave now, it’s only just starting.”
Jemima stopped and held David in a kiss to silence him. “No one will notice we’re not here,” she said after coming up for air.
They walked through the crowded room, the sound of the large orchestra who had now moved on to a piece by Bach nearing as they came into the foyer.
“Miss Renton.” Steven smiled and stopped Jemima in her tracks.
“Steven Edwards,” Jemima smiled politely but falsely as she turned to face him and a group of men standing chatting.
“The pleasure is mine. May I say you look beautiful tonight, as always.”
“I’m sure. Please, I’m rather busy if you don’t mind.”
“I was hoping I could introduce you to some of my friends,” Steven pleaded and signalled to his friends who stood behind him.
“Excuse me for a moment please, David,” she sighed before the fake smile took over her face again and she walked over to the group of men. “Good evening Sirs.”
After introducing her to the group Steven asked for a dance but was happily refused and Jemima moved on. She looked to see David talking to a couple near the orchestra and joined them.
“Bonjour Monsieur,” she greeted the man with a smile, ignoring his partner.
*****
Mantheana curtsied to the man who had now just poured her a glass of punch.
"And may I have the pleasure of knowing your name?
"Mantheana." She smiled a pleasant smile, her tight corset showing off her figure and the vast creases in her skirt folded elegantly about her hips. She didn't herself like the dark green so much, but it was said to give her an earthy look. She could do earthy.
'Alexander' as he had announced himself, bowed and requested a dance.
Mantheana took a sip of her punch.
"Oui, merci beaucoup." She was just about to take his hand, when a tall man came up behind her.
"My Lady." He wrapped his arms around her small waist and sniffed her neck in an intimate manner. Alexander tried to address this stranger.
"And you are?"
"Mikhail Trankski." He put plainly as he started to talk to Mantheana in Russian, plainly ignoring Alexander who was left staring at the close couple.
"Preetee tak s'ya. Eta skoochnee zdyess." He swayed with her to the music. "Rozry shat nas eetde dyelay shtooha…" he paused to think of how to put it. "Eentyresnee."*
This apparently amused Mantheana as she giggled raunchily, but stifled it when she saw Edward’s confused face.
"Gidyay tvoy vyezhleevee!"† She mocked shock and he gave a chuckle. "Do pardon us," she continued in French, "My kind Sir," she looked at Mikhail, "is just looking for some… entertainment."
"Oh," Edward replied, a bit taken back by the extremely outward couple. He bowed to Mantheana, excused himself and walked off in the direction of the dancers. Mikhail was just in the process of 'seeking' some 'entertainment' when another young woman came and addressed Mikhail.
*****
The man turned, his arm interlocked with his young lady's.
"Why good evening to you Mademoiselle." He bowed and then let his partner rest her head on his chest.
“Good evening. I am Jemima Renton, who would this dashing stranger be?” Jemima asked in her sweetest French accent, smiled, curtsied then came closer to the man who had clearly shown he was taken. Nevertheless, Jemima would try.
"Ahh, Jemima Renton You are to be married to the Sir David over there are you not?" She smiled her smile that was unpleasant, but no one could put a finger on why.
Jemima just smiled, “Good evening. Who might you be?”
"Why, Monsieur Trankski's Lady of course," she announced primly. She then turned her attention to him. "Oh Mikhail, can we dance to this one, please? Fath- Count Alashkov used to play it and it's one of my favourites." Mikhail nodded dutifully. He smiled at Jemima and whisked Mantheana off her feet into the moves of the dance. Over his shoulder, she shot Jemima a hellish glare and then continued.
Jemima glared at the woman even as she danced until she finally walked over to her fiancé. “David, do you care to dance?” He excused himself from the conversation and began to dance intimately.
Mantheana was enjoying her dance. She could tell Mikhail was too. He had a tendency to dance a lot closer than was customary and although he was quite a bit taller than Mantheana, she could still feel his breath on her face. The dance ended and after stooping to kiss Mantheana's ear he whispered that maybe they should go and sit down. Mantheana consented, and after moving to the side of the room, she sat on Mikhail's lap and let herself be cuddled.
*****
At the end of the dance, Jemima turned to look for Mikhail, but was interrupted by a distinct cockney accent through all the French jargon.
Ebony had arrived.
She ran over to Jemima and embraced her in a childish manner.
"O Jemima, isn't i' pri'y?" She gazed in wonder at all the sparkling gowns. "How's the par'y so far Jemima?" Her wide face was bordered by black curls, her slightly phased out eyes sparkling. Her 'helper' who ran up behind her obviously hadn't bargained on his patient being so eager to join the party.
"Mademoiselle Ebony should not be so active in her current state I think," he retorted, a little worried about the last time Ebony had had a 'condition' in public.
"O Mista, you are so funny, I will be fine! You just don' see things like I do!" Once again, her eyes glazed over and she giggled notoriously at nothingness.
Jemima sighed as she turned to face her giggling companion. “Ebony, what are you doing here? I though you were staying at your hotel?” She turned to embrace David and excused herself from his presence.
"Well, I was si'ing in my room and supposed to be taking the stuff Mista Helper here gave me, but I didn' feel like it, Jemima, and it sounded much more fun over here, don' you think?" Ebony was now fiddling with one of her perfect ringlets distractedly as she awaited a response from Jemima.
“Not really, Ebony. David and I were just leaving. We thought the hotel room would be much more interesting,” came her response, a little fed up that Ebony had turned up.
"Don't be silly Jemima! If tha' was true then you wouldn' be staring a- that man over there with the lady on his lap now would you?" Ebony had an uncanny talent for picking up the tiniest things at a glance but then missing out on major things right in front of her.
“Ebony! I’m not staring, just…” Jemima grinned as she turned her gaze back to her friend. “I can have just as much fun with David.”
Ebony giggled violently. "I don't think you care about tha'. But I did wan' some fun. Go on, introduce me!" With that Ebony seized Jemima's arm and started dragging her at a speed quite surprising for someone of her build, over to the couple 'entertaining' themselves at the side of the room.
“Good evening again, Monsieur Trankski,” Jemima said sweetly after Ebony finally let go of her grip on her arm. “I would like to introduce my friend Ebony Sinclair to your presence.” She flashed a smile then curtsied, managing to show as much of her cleavage as possible to the man. Ebony wrinkled her nose in response to Jemima's behavior.
"Mantheana," she introduced herself, tracing an idle pattern across Mikhail's chest. "Did you enjoy the dance?"
“Yes, thank you and I should enjoy it much more if your partner would kindly grace me in his presence for the next dance.” Her smile was sweet as she placed her 'delicate' hand in front of her.
Ebony giggled until an elbow in the side from Jemima stifled her.
Mantheana's features had hardened some what, and she muttered something Russian in Mikhail's ear, but he responded with a negative, and that he would rather stay, as things were getting interesting.
He stood up and took Jemima's hand. As soon as Mikhail had started to talk, Ebony's eyes had phased out and she had started to sway jerkily back and forth, but no one noticed and she soon returned to herself.
At this point, David entered and inquired what exactly Jemima thought she was doing.
After introducing him to the group, she replied “I’m being social, David, you might try it sometime yourself.” She smiled politely then moved to the dance floor with Mikhail.
Mantheana glared temporarily at the thief and Mikhail, who, she noticed was making no attempt to stop Jemima's intentions before donning a sly grin.
"Monsieur Linton, would you care for a dance yourself?" She smiled the picture of innocence.
"Why, yes, I believe I would." David had not thought of this possibility, but now that he did, it appealed to him. Mantheana took his hand and as they were just moving over to the dance floor, she looked back at Ebony who had taken her seat.
"You don't mind, do you Mademoiselle Ebony?" she inquired politely to the young girl who was watching the entire escapade with amusement.
"No Miss, I don'," she replied, wondering how this would effect Jemima. With that, Mantheana and her new dance partner moved into position for the start of the dance.
Jemima moved even closer than she had been before to Mikhail and put her head up to his, whispered something in his ear and grinned slyly. She gave him a small kiss on the neck when she saw no one watching and continued to dance.
Mikhail smiled; as if what just happed was part of his everyday routine. He didn't tell her to stop, but he made no public urge for her to continue.
As the danced started, David was surprised to find a lithe mover under the dainty and fragile exterior of his partner. The way she moved to the music was quite unlike Jemima. Jemima was fun to dance with, but Mantheana had a skill.
"You dance?" he queried.
"Oui. I’ve done ballet since I was a baby. You are a dancer too I think?" as she had been impressed by the power of David's dancing.
"Oui. Then you know that there are some slightly more interesting moves to this piece?" He was excited by the fact that he had found a dancer. Mantheana nodded.
"I would love to give them a go, with your permission," she said eagerly. David replied positive and they started to dance.
Jemima had looked over Mikhail’s shoulder to see her fiancé dancing freely and beautifully with Mantheana. He had danced for her before, many times but never with her, not as one, Jemima knew she didn’t have that amount of skill.
Jemima’s smile became a sly grin as she planned her revenge. Making her flirting too obvious would cause enquiries and a bad reputation; she couldn’t have that at all. “Monsieur, are you all right?” she asked innocently as she pushed herself right up against his body.
"Fine," he responded and continued the dance, having not noticed Mantheana and David's fluid movements behind him.
Mantheana was flying. It had been so long since she had actually danced with someone before. She trusted her self completely into his arms and he into hers as they span, curved and swayed to the music. She moved up and down, through the air at times, supported by him only. She smiled in pleasure. There had always been something intimate going on when she danced with Mikhail, but there was an intimacy in being of the one body that any couple became when they danced. She and David had not noticed that people had stopped to stare at their display.
By now Jemima was furious. This woman had just come in and started dancing like that with her husband-to-be. Jemima knew she had probably started Mantheana off but still didn’t like it at all.
“Could we go somewhere else, my room…?” she asked as she gave Mikhail a small but playful nip on the neck once again.
Mikhail appeared to take this in. He brought his hand over her face and down her neck. He smelled her hair and was just feeling over her shoulder when he appeared to notice that no one else was dancing any more, though the music continued.
He turned to see everyone watching Mantheana in the midst of an intricate ballet move with Jemima's fiancé. She was lying in mid air, David holding her at the stomach and her toes pointed perfectly. Then he let her drop, but was there just in time to stop her hitting the ground, catching Mantheana gracefully, who had not moved even when she was falling to the hard marble floor.
Such elaborations continued until the music drew to a close, leaving David holding Mantheana tightly for balance as they posed elegantly.
An applause followed, and both Mantheana and David seemed startled at this, neither one of them noticing that the crowd had been watching. Mantheana curtsied to her partner, and he bowed, a smile on both their faces, and a new-found sense of respect for their fellow artistes. David kissed her hand gently as was customary and they both walked over to their other halves.
Jemima glared, hard. Not only had this woman ruined her short time with Mikhail but her relationship with David (for this evening anyway).
“Monsieur Trankski?” Jemima inquired, not really meaning to ask anything, just to talk and break the silence that had come over them both.
They both stared at their partners who had just returned to them. “David,” Jemima said quietly, “may I speak to you for a moment, please?” David nodded and they both walked over to a quiet corner leaving Mantheana and Mikhail to themselves.
Mikhail embraced Mantheana passionately, not liking the fact that she had performed something that seemed far more intimate than whatever he and Jemima had been doing. They moved over idly to where Ebony was sitting.
"Oh Mikhail, did you see? I haven't danced like that for ages! It felt so good! I never would have guessed David to be such a strong dancer!" Mikhail tried to look his happiest for her.
"It was so pri'y Miss Mantheana!" Ebony declared clapping her hands with glee. "And you managed to fre' Jemima qui'e a bi', not that she didn't deserve i'! Flir'ing like tha' Engaged and all. She's such a madam some times--" Ebony cut off quickly as Jemima and David came their way.
“I’m sorry, Jemima, truly sorry, but you didn’t have to slap me, you were dancing too...” David said quietly as they began walking back to the small group.
“It wasn’t like that! You never dance like that with me!” Jemima protested but David didn’t reply as they had already reached Mantheana, Mikhail and Ebony and they didn’t want any of them getting involved.
Jemima came and stood next to Mikhail and slipped her hand into his behind his back. “Later,” she whispered before moving to stand with David once again.
As Jemima approached, Mantheana noticed Mikhail's eyes moving over Jemima. She wasn't keen on this. She wasn't keen on Jemima. She gave David an apologetic look for getting him slapped, but his eyes said 'forgiven', as both of them had rekindled their partner's interest.
"So Jemima, did you enjoy your dance?" she inquired, smiling brilliantly.
“Yes, thank you. I must say your partner moves very well.” She smiled at Mikhail.
"As does yours. Tell me Jemima, are you a fan of ballet? Both Monsieur Trankski and Mademoiselle Sinclair do." She gave a glance at Ebony who did not appear to be feeling too well, as her face had definitely gone a paler shade.
Jemima began to zone out on the small talk and traced a finger down David’s chest, giving him a kiss before turning her attention back to the rest of the group.
“I don’t really care for it myself, although it can be beautiful to watch, I’m sure you agree Monsieur Trankski?”
"Yes. I first saw Mantheana in such a production." He said vaguely, for his attention was now focused on Ebony who was swaying in a disturbing way, the expression on her face had become much more acute the moment he had started to talk.
"Are you all right, Mademoiselle Sinclair?" Mikhail spoke in a concerned tone. However at this direct speech, Ebony let loose a frightful scream, fit to wake the dead.
"DECIEVER! DECIEVER! HE LIES!" She looked bewildered in Mantheana's direction, although she looked focused in another reality. "HE ISN'T ONLY YOURS! HE LIES! DECIEVER!" she screamed like a banshee and then suddenly-- "Why do you do it?" she asked Mikhail, in a calm and almost quizzical tone before falling to the floor convulsing madly.
Everything stopped, and people started to come over and stare at the strange fitting girl. Ebony's eyes flickered rapidly underneath closed lids and a speck of blood appeared at the side of her tightly pursed mouth. Her helper was over in a flash, and after he forced a vial of some strange liquid down her throat, the seizing stopped. Ebony was lifted on to stretcher with murmurs that 'she hadn't taken her medicine today', and 'that maybe the stress of such an exciting public event was getting to her'.
Jemima stood by the stretcher. Ebony was twitching all over. With a start, she sat up, her pupils dilated to the limits.
"He'll hurt them all you know," she informed no one in particular before collapsing once again, shivering feverishly until another concoction was poured into her mouth. This was the third time the visage of a pretty young woman was taken from Ebony, although this was the worst time to date. Her petite elegance was stolen by the mad 'conditions' that no one could explain. But the doctors insisted that after the next round of treatment, she would be fit as a fiddle.
Jemima looked to Mikhail, in Ebony’s madness there was usually some truth, she saw things that ‘normal’ people wouldn’t. She jumped slightly as David placed his arm around her shoulders and held her in a tight embrace.
“Love, I think it’s best if we go,” David murmured and Jemima gave a slightly saddened expression.
“But David-”
“They’ll take her away; get her out of the public view.”
Jemima nodded in a melancholy fashion and then looked around for Mikhail. To her dismay, both he and his partner had disappeared into thin air. She sighed disappointedly.
*****
Outside the building, Mikhail and Mantheana walked down the steps to their carriage. Both were slightly disgruntled at the strange behavior of such a nice young lady.
"Mikhail, do you have any idea what she was ranting on about?" Mantheana asked as she climbed in.
"None whatsoever," he replied firmly, signalling for the driver to start, and in seconds they were gone.
*****
*Roughly translates as: "Come away with me. This is boring." He swayed with her to the music "Let us go and fine something more…" he paused to think of how to put it. "Interesting."
† Roughly translates as: "Where are your manners?"
****
Much laughing and bitching was enjoyed in the writing of this post.....
All was written in Englance for authenticity (yes they are in france)
All nagging of Alice to get the final edit done can be credited to Boojypie.
This crediting sequence was taken in broken copyright of Sidsiclid just to annoy him.....
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
1:40pm Friday August 26th
Sorrow picked at the remains of his fruit salad; he’d spent the morning trying to recall exactly which of his many tomes contained the ritual for creating a myoleth praentath. He’d found the correct reference just moments before his lunch had been delivered. So, rather than get lost in the details, Sorrow had decided to take a break and return to the issue refreshed.
Now, he was just avoiding returning to his books; the sandwich had been consumed, the fruit almost so. Simply put he wasn’t sure he could do it. During his research he’d recalled the exact nature of the praentath, an instrument of vengeance created by a race noted for their self-destructive honour codes. It was an unpleasant weapon. A weapon he was seriously considering using on a fellow hunter and human being, purely on the basis of ‘maybes’, ‘what ifs’ and Jade’s perhaps less than justifiable fears.
It didn’t have to be a praentath that he used of course. Hizashi was as capable of killing humans as vampires. If he needed anonymity then there was always a gun. The praentath just made a cover story easier. It would help direct attention away from himself and Victor; without that cover story then killing Xavier was pointless and if he was going to engage in cold-blooded murder then there had to be a point.
And that of course was the issue, the premeditation of it all. He’d killed humans in the past but he’d never set out to take a human life quite so callously, even last February when they’d gone to rescue Kate the people he’d killed had been obstacles in his path not his actual goal. *Well, not until the demon took over.* There had been other times as well, usually humans so enmeshed in vampiric lies that Sorrow considered them fair game, especially once they attacked him.
If he was honest with himself it was a razor thin distinction. He hadn’t needed to unsheath Hizashi last February, he could quite easily have taken a staff or similar weapon like Tash had. His sword was what he was most comfortable with and he had taken it in the full knowledge that even for someone of his skill it was not a weapon one merely wounded with. He hadn’t hesitated then. Xavier, it appeared, was a different story.
It didn’t help that he had essentially been forced into this course of action. Jade had effectively given him an ultimatum. Either he dealt with Xavier or Jade would. At least she’d try. Despite her obvious physical advantages he had no doubt of the outcome of a conflict between Xavier and Jade. So he’d answered her ultimatum in the only way he could. He’d acquiesced. An unsympathetic observer might conclude that he had become an assassin for the woman he loved and truth be told Sorrow would find it difficult to argue with that assessment.
He sighed and slipped the last piece of mango into his mouth. Chewing thoughtfully he walked back into his study. Opening his latest volume at the page he had book marked, Sorrow took out a notepad and began to read.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Friday - 26th August 2005 - 9pm
Jade yawned as she opened the front door to her apartment. She's just finished her last meeting with yet another one of XY's suppliers, the last of six today; and having been up since the crack of dawn, she was about ready to fall asleep on her feet.
Tiptoeing towards the guest bedroom, Jade peeped in. Kate's still form was lying on the sheets, her red hair and fine features illuminated by the light coming in through the window. Jade heard her rhythmic breathing and quietly closed the door, careful not wake Kate up. *The poor girl must really be exhausted...*
After taking a hot shower, Jade sat down to grab a quick bite to eat. She then cleared away the remains of her Chinese take-out and put the two cartons she'd bought for Kate in the fridge, in case Kate woke up feeling hungry.
Before she went to bed Jade placed a call to Sorrow on his mobile. This time she managed to get through and told him about the note she'd received from Tash and Victor. He was concerned, but Jade sensed that he was too engrossed in his research to be truly worried. He did, however, make Jade promise that she would call him regularly to let him know that she was safe and assured her that he would do the same.
Just before hanging up, Jade told Sorrow about Kate. "I know she's not someone you really want to see right now, especially with everything else that's going on. But she's my friend... And with Tash and Victor gone, I couldn't just leave her..." She trailed off, praying that he would understand.
Sorrow kept quiet for a moment then sighed heavily. "I do, love. Maybe it's just as well. I don't think I'll be back tomorrow night either and I'll concentrate on my research a lot better knowing that you're not alone."
Jade smiled into the phone. "I love you Tris."
"I love you too..."
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
9:35pm Friday 27th August
Sorrow switched off his phone, leant back in his chair and sighed. He’d just lied to Jade. The research was done. It had taken most of the afternoon to translate the ritual. He’d spent a few more hours familiarising himself with the details but now it was finished. Given a little time and the right materials, most of which he had here already, and Sorrow could create a praentath. He was ready to move forward. Instead he had lied to Jade, had told her he had more research to do.
Kate was part of the reason for that. The mere mention of her name had brought back memories he had no desire to face. Actually being in her presence would be torture. A torture he probably deserved but it was something he had no wish to face on top of all the other issues between himself and Jade, issues that included Tash.
Tash. The idea that she, newly engaged, would hit on him, the man who had recently set a hunter on the trail of her aforementioned fiancé, was too absurd for words. In hindsight it was obvious that Tash had either lost her mind or the person who had so brazenly attempted to seduce him wasn’t Tash. Based on the complete lack of distress in her aura, beyond what he would expect due to the Ohenewaa mess, Tash’s story about a shapeshifter made as much sense as anything else. Sorrow doubted that Jade would see it that way though. He’d seen the flash of possessiveness in her eyes when she realised what he’d been talking about that night.
It wasn’t Tash or even Kate though that had driven Sorrow from the place that he considered home. It was Xavier. It was that Jade was sufficiently afraid of what might be that she was willing to ‘deal’ with Xavier. It was that Sorrow knew what that would really involve even if Jade didn’t, and as a result was willing to kill another human being to protect the woman he loved. It was that Sorrow had a hard enough time looking in the mirror, never mind looking in Jade’s eyes.
So here he was, hiding behind ‘research’ and books, hiding from the tension that filled Jade every time Xavier came up. Hiding from the silent accusation that no matter what he had said he was unwilling or perhaps unable to take the necessary steps to deal with a fellow hunter. Hiding from what he was with no demon this time to excuse his actions.
Sorrow’s reverie was broken by the growl of his stomach. He smiled; take-out would deal with his immediate need to eat but if he was intending to stay here a couple more days a trip to the all night convenience store was in order, not that that was a problem. Some people may fear to walk through the night alone. Sorrow wasn’t one of them.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
"How Popular This Avenue Poplar"
Part Two
Starring:
Amanda Saddington as Reah
April as Jade
Sid Siclid as Brinkley
Saturday August 27, 2005. After 4 PM.
Jade hummed softly to herself as she twisted her long hair into a French braid. She then yanked on her favorite pair of black shorts, matched it with a snug black T-shirt and applied a light golden blush to emphasize her summer tan. Satisfied with her appearance, Jade left the bathroom and knocked softly on the guest bedroom’s door to say good-bye to Kate.
They’d both woken up around noon and had spent the better part of the day lounging around, just making small talk and Jade was loathe to leave. There were, however, a hundred nitty gritty details at XY that demanded her attention before the store re-opened and she didn’t have much of a choice...
***
Brinkley pulled her hair into a pony tail as she topped the stairs. She pulled the scrunchie tight, then carefully removed her longest strand of green hair and let it bounce gently upon her cheek. It reminded her of her true self. She was not a Hansonite, she was not a Hansonite, she was not a Hansonite…
Right. Her long, pink Hanson shirt fluttered as she picked up the speed—
A door was opening, and Brinkley stopped short. When she saw it wasn’t apartment 211, she sighed in relief. She wasn’t ready, still composing her bullshit story. The person coming out of the apartment was a girl, not Sam. She was young and pretty with oval eyes that blinked hazel in the dimness of the hall.
This building wasn’t hard to navigate, but she thought it best to play dumb. Rushing past the stranger in such a narrow hallway might cause them to bump shoulders. That would be awkward for someone who was bent on being social.
“Oh, hi, excuse me,” she said. “Which way to apartment 211?”
"It's just down the hall." Jade smiled at the stranger and pointed towards the right. You a friend of Sam's and ermmm..." She searched her memory for Sam's housemate name, "... Reah's?"
Reah…right. Bunny Aubrey mentioned that name the other day at the hospital. She said her ex-husband, Sam, had gotten himself a roommate. She sounded jealous.
“I’m not a friend,” Brinkley said. “I’m…a friend of a friend. I’ve got something for Mr. Aubrey. A proposition. You know him then?
"Oh yes." Jade looked at the girl curiously as she locked her front door. Double-checking that she had everything she needed, *Bag? Check. Keys? Check. Laptop? Check.* she said, "Why don't I head over with you? I'd like to say hi to Sam... Haven't seen him..." *Since that crazy night with those rabid werewolves!* "Hmmmm... For quite a while I think. Funny how you can stay three doors away and not see a person."
Brinkley scanned the girl’s brain for signs of The Idea. Nothing yet. But if she was a carrier, she should be present with Sam when all the sucking and the running and the screaming and the dying took place. So she nodded pleasantly in agreement, and they headed toward apartment 211.
“I don’t know,” Brinkley said in reply, “ I’m staying in the motel across the street from my brother, and we haven’t seen each other since Sunday.” They reached the door. Brinkley smiled, holding the briefcase with both arms over her midriff.
“I’m Brinkley Davis, by the way. Do you wish to knock, or shall I, miss…?”
"Lee. Jade Lee. And I'll knock since you seem to have your hands full there." Jade noted the protective hand Brinkley had clasped over the snakeskin case.
*A friend's friend. Hmmm...* The only person she remembered Sam mentioning was his ex-girlfriend, Kimmie. The very thought of her had Jade's hand tightening on her the strap of her carryall. She'd not forgotten her initial suspicions about Kimmie but had not pursued the issue any further since Sam was now staying at Poplar and out of harm's way.
Hiding her watchful gaze behind another smile, Jade scanned the woman quickly before knocking on Apartment 211. She didn't sense anything vampiric about Brinkley and relaxed slightly.
"Looks like nobody's home?" Jade knocked again, slightly louder this time.
***
Reah moaned and squirmed it the recesses of the couch. The blinds were drawn tightly together and even the fridge had been turned off. There wasn’t much in the fridge anyway, and Reah couldn’t care less if there was.
Instead she lay there in a dark, silent, unmoved, cushiony existence….
…peace…calm…slight throbbing…but blissful…cool…peace….
…
THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD!
The sound of the door bashed at her skull like a sledge hammer, sending tendrils of madly sparking nerves stinging her wool clodded head. She groaned in pain and squirmed into a ball only to land painfully on the floor.
She stayed there hunched over on all fours nursing her head on the edge of the couch, breathing heavily.
Gradually she began to pull herself up.
THUD…
*AAARRRRRGG!*
THUD…THUD…THUD…THUD!
Reah grasped her head protectively grinding her teeth against the mental crushing of it, and picked her careful way to the door, releasing one hand to work the latches and locks then pulled it open regretfully.
She was greeted by a friendly smiling Asian girl she’d never met before, and just aside from her a…*Oh great.*…some business sales type, Hanson loving, teeny bopper freak!
“Sorry, whatever Hanson merchandise you’re trying to sell, I can thrive without it.” She groaned. “Hanson are a poor excuse for crap, let alone a band. All offense intended!”
Brinkley leaned way back, struck by this person’s hot tequila breath and brutal correctness. Her neck muscles stinging, she gave Jade a worried look. “This Mr. Aubrey’s roommate?” she asked.
"To be honest, Reah and I have never met." Jade looked uncertainly at the blonde girl who was staring balefully at Brinkley. *Hangover city...*
Trying to smooth over what seemed like a potentially nasty situation between the two other women, Jade said, "Looks like we caught you at a pretty bad time." She looked at Reah sympathetically. "We're looking for Sam actually... Oh, I'm Jade. I stay
down the hall."
When she received no response other than a pithy glare, Jade tried again. "This is Brinkley. She says she's an... acquaintance of Sam's. I bumped into her on her way over and thought I'd drop by too. We didn't mean to trouble you..."
“Not an acquaintance,” Brinkley said, quickly. “I know his ex-wife. Bunny.”
Reah hadn’t heard Brinkley as she stared incredulously at her. *Sam’s friends with a teeny bopper? I thought Hesch was bad! Sam….* Reah’s bottom lip trembled. He still wasn’t back…*from his holiday!* She sternly told herself. Doubts still welled in the back of her mind adding to the weight of her head.
“I’m sorry.” She tried to compose herself. “Sam’s not home.” She squeaked and kicked herself for sounding so weak. She was about to do something she’d forbidden herself to do her whole life. “But come in if you like.” She directed the question to Jade, it didn’t make her feel so bad if she didn’t direct it straight at the TB.
“Thank you,” Brinkley said. “Maybe you’d be interested in this, since you’re his friend.”
*Damn,* Brinkley thought, *he’s not home.*
She gave Jade a nod to follow, and together they walked inside.
*Wow. Talk about spartan.* Jade blinked as she looked around the apartment. Save for a ratty looking sofa and a television set on the floor, the only other things she could see were clothes scattered on the floor and... She was pretty sure that the there were a couple of stakes lying on the kitchen counter. *Another vampire hunter? Maybe it's time I start looking for a new place to live...*
Reah plopped back onto the couch, muttering apologies and cradling her head. Jade crossed the room and filled a plastic cup with water. Rummaging through her carryall, she dug out a packet of aspirin and handed it to Reah. "Here. You can kiss my feet and thank me later when the hangover's... well... over." She grinned.
Reah popped the aspirin without water. Brinkley approached her, one hand in her briefcase. “Please take my card,” she said.
Reah made a face at the taste and eyed the TB, Brinkley, carefully. She never trusted the brainless twats. Always to busy smothering their face into some brainless celebrities photo.
Unwillingly she took the card, still watching her and felt the sudden urge to ask; “I’m sorry, I’m probably still half pissed, but do you seriously choose to dress like that? Or did your parents hate you?”
“What the fu—” Brinkley said, quickly giving Jade a look of query about this Reah bitch. But then she looked at her shirt, saw those upside down Hanson faces grinning back at her, and felt defeated. Obviously Reah had genuine taste. And it pained Brinkley to say, “I…support the band. Which is why I’m here. Your friend Sam is in a very lucky position. You two should be very proud of him. It’s why I’ve come here today. I’m representing Island Records. The LA branch.”
Jade's eyebrows shot up at Brinkley's words. *Somehow, I don't buy that.* "You're a talent scout?" She looked at the dark-haired woman suspiciously. "What exactly does a record company want with Sam?" Jade looked from Reah, who looked equally as bewildered.
“Have you read the papers?” Brinkley asked. She pulled a recent newspaper out of her briefcase and held up the headline by her ear. “’Tornado Kills Taylor Hanson and Others.’”
Reah suppressed the urge to jump up and do a happy dance. She did feel grief for the family and all, but it was just a natural ‘punk rival’ reaction that made her smirk so before she quickly rubbed it off her face.
“Aaaand…” She gestured for the TB to follow on. “This affects him how? I can see how I’m lucky, buuut…”
Brinkley snorted at that. But she quickly contained her mirth—“I’m lucky”—resumed her professional appearance. “It’s a tragedy,” she said. “But a tragedy that comes with a silver lining. We have it on good authority that your Mr. Aubrey is quite the singer. We would like to audition him.” She smiled. “To replace Taylor.”
Reah stared at her. “Do you hate me and Sam or something? Because that sounds like a form of torture! I wouldn’t do that to a serial killing, axe wielding madman who eats babies for breakfast!”
*Sam a singer?* Reah mused while keeping her expression steady, trying to recall when she’d heard him sing before. He hadn’t! Not once! *Not even in the bloody shower!* “I haven’t heard him sing and I bloody live with him.” She kept a level tone. “And I’d rather not have to listen to the crap that comes from that ‘band’! Because that’s what it’d mean if he joined them. I’d support him, but die in the process.” Tears welled in her eyes. She was talking about Sam. She’d give anything to have him back safe…*even as a…H…H-Haaaaaann…Haaansoo…* She couldn’t even think it. It was bad enough.
Sitting gingerly on the couch, Jade glanced at Reah, puzzled at her tears. *What's she bawling about? I've heard of an aversion to boy bands but this takes the cake.*
Turning her attention back to the "Island Records rep", Jade said sharply. "Wait a minute. So you're a talent scout. And you've heard Sam sing. And you just happened to be a friend of his ex-wife?" Jade stared disbelievingly at Brinkley. "Do you seriously expect us to fall for that crap?"
Reah sat up at Jade's words, looked at her, then darted an accusing glare back at the TB. She'd been so engrossed that she hadn't even taken that much notice to even pick up on that!
Fall for that crap? Brinkley liked these girls. Not dumb. And if the roles were reversed, she’d join them in their derision. She stepped back a bit and smirked. “Crap?” she said. Yep, now she was sure of it. Jade was clean, emanating innocence of all relevant Ideas, in fact, despite some dark patches in her subconscious. Despite a vampire here and there, a demon there and here, some pain, some suffering, some love and loss, the girl had no Idea. Not whatsoever. Lucky her.
But this Reah chickie…
Even Brinkley, whose senses had been dulled over the years, could taste The Idea on Reah’s breath. Obviously, she’d been polluted by her roommate, Sam Aubrey. The odd thing was, the sensation was not one of Dread. Perhaps she could have been one of the lucky ones. Sometimes people catch the flipside, and instead of Dread, they get the Beloved Idea instead. This Reah held great power and didn’t even know it…perhaps would never know it. If Ra were here, he’d say suck her brain; it’s the only way to be sure. But Brinkley nodded to herself, thinking, *perhaps she will be a balance in our favor.*
“No,” Brinkley said, eyeing Reah instead of Jade. “Not crap. In fact, if you’ll just give Mr. Aubrey my card, I’ll be able to prove it to you.”
Jade couldn’t help but notice the interested way Brinkley was looking at Reah. She stood up and got one of her own cards out of her bag. “I’m afraid that I can’t stay around to see this hotshot,” she gestured to Brinkley, “prove her talent scout status... I really just stopped by to say to Sam... And to meet you, of course.” She added as an afterthought.
Since Reah still seemed incapable of movement, Jade got up and dropped her card on her lap. “But drop me a call later to see how it goes. Or just pop by my store when you feel up to it and we’ll chat more then.”
Casting a last suspicious look at Brinkley, Jade got up, grabbed her stuff and made her way to the door. “Reah... Tell Sam I dropped by when you see him, Ok? Maybe the two of you could come over sometime and I’ll make you guys dinner.” She left quickly, missing the quick flash of grief and worry that passed over Reah’s face at the mention of Sam’s name.
Reah sniffed and ran the back of her hand across her eyes, smothering the tears that insisted on emerging. *Traitorous eyes!* She nodded meekly at Jade’s request and offer.
Head still down, through the glistening haze she stared numbly at the business cards that had kept piling on themselves in front of her, then noticed something odd about the card the TB had given her. *Killroy? I thought she said Island Records.*
She didn’t voice her confusion. The sooner T—Brinkley—B was gone, the better.
Steeling herself back up she faced the TB, managing to seem to look down on her even though she was the one seated on the couch. “Are we finished now?” She said coldly.
“Yeah,” Brinkley said. “Sure.”
That was all that was needed. Brinkley almost wished she could have been honest about the whole affair. She’d never been deceitful when she was a pterodactyl. Lying now seemed wrong. But sadly, it was right.
[Brinkley meets Jade, and they go together to apartment 211. They meet Reah instead of Sam. Brinkley explains that Sam might have a singing career with Hanson.]
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
"Madeline Goes Bananas"
Previously on LA By Night:
· (Off-camera) Albert Hesch runs over his wife after he makes it home from work one night to find that she’s having an affair. The murder forces her soul into his taxicab.
· Killroy performs a vengeance wish for Hesch against Kimmie. This results in Sam Aubrey coming to Los Angeles.
· Hesch suggests that Sam use Killroy to exact vengeance on Bunny Aubrey, but this 2nd v-wish results in a Double-Demon Doo-Doo, condemning Killroy to the mortal plane until both vengeance wishes have run their course.
· An incident at After Dark concerning Victor Tek, Eriantha, Kimmie, and a vial of holy water results in Kimmie driving off with Hesch. They become lovers again and, off-camera, Hesch asks her to be his wife. They celebrate by shopping on Hope Street.
· Killroy moves in with Kimmie, but other business keeps the demon out of the apartment quite a bit.
· Brinkley takes Ra’s VW Bug to seek out Sam Aubrey, while Ra spends the day at the Hollenbeck skatepark. He is forced to take other means of transportation....
Saturday, August 27, 2005. 8:05 PM.
“Albert Hesch, I am going grease you up and slide you buck naked down a hundred-foot razor blade.”
That came from Killroy, after a poof and flash, in the back seat. She caused Hesch to miss the exit to the Santa Anna Freeway; the cab continued along Santa Fe, parallel with Los Angeles River. “Don’t you hate it when company just drops in?” he whispered to Davis, his fare. Davis, a young blond guy with a bandaged nose, set his skateboard to the side and took a gander at the female thing in the back seat. Hesch cleared tonight’s milkshake from his throat and said, “Er, don’t freak out on me, bud. It’s not what you think.”
“It’s a justice demon,” Davis said. “I get it.”
“You know about vengeance demons.”
“It’s PC to say ‘justice,’ and yeah. They taste like smoked jerky.”
So…his passenger wasn’t half as green as he looked.
Killroy’s head appeared through the seats. The sickly yellow veins in her skin made tracers in the darkness, and her bullish snorting flattened Hesch's shoulder hairs. She had shed the doll face for this occasion, donning an ovine skull. She meant business.
“I didn’t get my wedding invitation,” she said. “Allow me to RSVP.” This had to happen sooner or later. “Did you really think I could live with the girl and not hear about your proposal?”
“If you live with her, how come I never see you?”
“I’ve been tied up with legal proceedings, paperwork mostly. The Demon Council of Justice is not happy with this fine mess you’ve gotten me into. Believe me, if it wasn’t for that, or for my waitressing gig, or other business, I’d have strangled you sooner.”
“You’re here to strangle me?” Hesch said, hoping she was serious (anything was better than a 100-foot razor blade). If he could, he’d answer her questions without answering her questions. “Sorry about the invitation. Nothing personal, baby. It’s going to be a small ceremony. Just me and Kimmie and the justice. The justice of the peace, that is, the judge.” Maddy honked once, loud and high. “And never to exclude my ever-present conscience, Madeline.”
That last remark must have been confusing for his poor passenger. He uttered an aside to Davis: “Madeline is my ex.” But if she honked with sentience a second time, he’d have to break down and explain that his vehicle was possessed with the jealous spirit of his ex-wife. Fortunately, for now, she kept her horn to herself.
Killroy reached around from behind and pinched both of his cheeks. “Albert,” she said, “what is it you think you’re doing?”
“I’m driving this guy back to his motel.”
“You know what I mean.”
Sure. She wanted to know why he asked Kimmie to marry him. But it was none of her demon business; that’s why.
She chuckled falsely. “You see, uh, dearie, it’s like this. Normally a vengeance wish is simple. I’m in, I’m out, bada-bing, bada-restitution. But you had to get the googly eyes for some vacuous entity” — her Lee Press-on claws were sharp — “honestly, the likes of which I’ve never even heard of. So, you see, I couldn’t resolve this v-wish with a simple nose-wiggle. And, after this last week of living at her apartment, I’m not even sure that this Kimmie of yours has a humanoid brain to comprehend the guilt. Woe betide the fat man who falls in love with a blond.”
“Kimmie is blond now?”
At that point, Davis turned around in his seat and said, “Excuse me, could you… yuh-know… bring it down a thousand? I’m sure you two can work this out without violence. Come on back to my motel room, we’ll smoke us a bowl of skunk weed, chill out, yeah?. It’ll be exceptional.”
The demon let loose a growl deep within her chest. “Stuff it, angel-boy," she said, "or I’ll re-break your schnoz for you. ‘Fat Albert’ here is not your concern.”
Angel-boy? Davis was an angel! It made sense, then, that he’d recognize a two-bit demon like—
“I’m a professional,” Killroy said to Hesch. “You got me caught up in a Doo-Doo, and that’s a challenge, but have I quit? Professionals don’t give up. I found an old-fashioned solution, didn’t I? And my love triangle was working until you decided to marry this girl that you’re supposed to despise. If you go through with the wedding, the wish will never run its course and — ho, ho, ho — guess who won’t get to go home for Halloween.”
“Jack the Pumpkin King?”
“No, me: Weary Pissed Off Bitch.” She placed both sets of her hideous, paronychiatic nail-claws (decorated with ladybug stickers) on his cheeks. His spine went cold. “It’s been fun, Al, but I’m past ready to blow this town.”
Steam circles were growing and fading this side of the window as Hesch’s mind raced for an escape plan. Davis didn’t seem the slightest bit afraid of Killroy’s grotesque behavior. For a second there, Hesch thought the guy was going to… well, be an angel, intervene, remove her evil hands from his innocent head, save him. But instead, Davis said, “Please be careful with that thing. Mr. Hesch needs his brain to drive. He’s already swerving more than I’m comfortable with, and I’d like to get home in one piece. So be a good gal and—”
“That’s strike two for you,” Killroy said. A moment later, she focused on Hesch again. “So what’s it going to be?”
“If you expect me to break it off with Kimmie...” he said, “well I just can’t do that.”
“Wrong answer, luv. Try again.”
“Read my lips: I. Am going to. Marry that. Girl.”
“No, you are not ‘going to. Marry that. Girl,’ Albert. You are going to. Break it off. With that. Girl. And help me get her back into Sam’s pants. By Halloween. I hear that Hitler is doing his Yoda impression at the Annual Hell Cotillion. I wouldn't want to mis—"
“I’ll see Sammy dead before I see him with my Kim.”
“Beep - wrong. I’m going to give you one last chance to give the right answer.”
“Lady,” he said, his milkshake riling his guts, “with respect to you and your ilk, that doesn’t change a thing. I need Kimmie.” The girl represented his last chance to feel love before he spiralled into a bitter old age. “So bug off.”
“Stee-rike three,” she said. She tweaked his ears, dropped her hands around his neck, and dug in. The pain! Davis lunged for the steering wheel as it left Hesch’s fingers. The road went to the left, to the right, anywhere but straight under the tires of the car.
“Dlam bloo blitch,” Hesch choked. “I never aksked you to… let Sllam… move out… hlak!”
“Everything was going just fine with our Mr. Aubrey until you interfered.”
“Kimmmm wukn’t goint-to lurve him any… wayz… she lukvs me….”
“Make no mistake,” Killroy said, “Kimmie is going to end up with that boy, and she will be penalized as per our agreement. As will Sam’s wifey and her lover. All these stipulations will come to pass. So mote it be.”
Maddy beeped twice, low in tone and for all to hear.
Davis steered them onto an empty street, saying. “I’m really not in the mood for this. I just want to go home. Look, I’m taking us over the bridge, we’ll be nearer to my motel and I can catch a bus—”
“If I don’t get to go home,” Killroy said, “no one goes home. And I told you, Keeper, you are on thin ice. Don’t make me have to deal with you too.”
Hesch’s eyes bulged. His face and ears felt like grapes. He heard Davis’s voice: “I’m serious. If you don’t knock it off and behave civil, I just might have to separate you two and call your parents.”
“I’ll suck on your soul,” Killroy said.
“Suck? Yeah, that’s about what I had in mind. For you though, you know. Not the ‘you suck me’ part. I meant that I’ll suck you. Yeah.”
“Try it, God Boy.”
“I will.”
“Then do it.”
“I said I will.”
“I see you talkin’,” she said, “but you ain’t suckin’. I bet you’re chicken.”
“No, it’s just that, since you’re strangling the driver, I’m sort of stuck with the job of keeping us on the road. In case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Bawk, bawwk.”
“Oh, real mature.”
“Fine. I’ll let go of Hesch, you let go of the steering wheel. Then Hesch can steer while I pummel your pretty boy face.”
“You’re on,” Davis said. “You go first.”
“No, you first.”
“No, you.”
“My hands are full.”
“Well so are mine.”
Hesch’s lungs were dying for air. The demon wielded his neck like a hunk of rubber, and he pulled at her iron fingers to permit short bursts of speech. “I sug-g-g…” he said, “est…Kill…r-roy…go…first.”
“The cabbie makes sense,” Davis said.
“Maybe we should listen to him, then.”
“Okay. But remember….”
“Right, right: I was asking for it, whatever," she said. "Let’s rock.”
She let go and went for Davis, and Hesch bellowed. Oxygen filled his lungs. His neck re-inflated to actual size. He grabbed the steering wheel from his passenger. Coughing and wheezing, Hesch steered them straight through a stop sign. Maddy was honking like mad: “Get out of the way, you fools, you fools.” They left a three-car collision in darkness behind them.
A cop car picked them up, its lights twirling in their exhaust. *Damn it to purgatory.* The last thing he needed was to have his cab impounded, perchance compounded… as much as that might be a good thing. *But my luck I’ll end up soul-bound to a big cube of compacted metal.*
He placed his foot on the brake pedal. His toe hit the floorboard. The vehicle didn’t respond. Pumping hard and fast, slowly he came to realize that Maddy had taken over. She wasn’t about to stop for no coppers. She turned a corner and put on the speed. The 1st Street Bridge approached through the misty lateness.
Killroy had pulled Davis into the backseat on top of her. In the mirror his head was flailing. They slid over the upholstery in a blur of kung fu and cat-fighting. The girlie moves were coming mostly from Davis. Killroy had turned his face into a stress-relief toy. Davis stuck his thumb in her eye.
“I am going to slurp your demon brain,” he said. “As soon as I… figure out where your brains are.”
“You don’t got the guts. And” — snort, grunt — “those are my horns, you boob.”
“Hold still, got a neat trick for ya.”
“I dare you. I double dare you.”
“Take this,” he said, and Killroy shrieked in pain.
“Hair-puller,” she said.
“Groin-kicker.”
“You kicked first.”
A firm-voiced policeman was making his announcement through a roof-mounted loudspeaker: “Do not enter the bridge. Pull over to the curb now.”
“You heard them, Maddy,” Hesch said, massaging his larynx, “pull over.”
But Maddy pulled away, instead. She won distance on the cop car, enough to skid into the middle of the bridge, stop, and face it. But their pursuers were fast approaching.
The halt had brought Davis’s and Killroy’s heads back into the rearview mirror. They spun about in shock. Every fiery red hair on Killroy’s scalp was out of place. “What’s going on?” she said.
Maddy revved her engine.
The cops approached at two hundred yards. “Remain in the car,” one of them said. “Do not get out of your vehicle.” Hesch suddenly felt sorry for them. They had no idea who they were dealing with.
Maddy’s engine was chugging, “Chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka, cheee-kehn, bawk-bawk-bawk.” In a squeal of tires, she charged them.
“Are you out of your mind, Hesch?” Killroy said.
“Soon to be out of body if he doesn’t slow down,” Davis said. “Swerve, swerve, cabbie, damn you, swerve.”
“I can’t swerve.”
“What do you mean you can’t swerve?”
Hesch tried to turn left, then right. Then in fear and frustration he slapped the steering wheel that would not budge. He slid his stomach out from under it and fell into the passenger seat. His head hit the skateboard, and he cried, “Don’t believe me?” and Davis’s mouth dropped.
Everyone began fumbling with their seatbelts.
In those final, pulsing instants before the vehicles would collide, Hesch saw the officers’s simpering faces, stripped of all authority. Their expressions declared, “No one’s driving”; and with a hair separating both front bumpers, the cop car split to the left, and Maddy split to the right. They went through one railing while Maddy bailed over the other. Hesch’s clenched toes fell into his throat as they dove out over the black waters below. Killroy shrieked. As the car plummeted, Davis said, “Not again.”
They hit.
Tiny debris bounced off the windshield — dirt or kelp or fishes — and suddenly the wipers started working. Open sky disappeared behind them. “Chocolatey” murkiness and thousands of bubbles surrounded the vehicle. One of the wiper blades came off and floated over the roof. Killroy and Davis hugged each other all the long way down
“I hate you, Albert,” Killroy said finally.
The cab slowed…
its descent…
…
began to return…
rushing up toward…
They pierced the surface with a submarine leap. Maddy began washing with the current, spinning in circles, her engine the ballast. The cab was watertight, and it seemed that they would stay afloat. His shoes weren't even wet. He looked all around, though a heavy splashing obscured the windows. The wipers had stopped working, and he barely got his bearings at sea level.
The cops didn’t make it.
Killroy was wrestling with the rusty buckle of her seatbelt. “I’ll d-deal with you two later,” she said. She disappeared in a most unspectacular way. The buckle dropped and clinked on the plastic seat.
Sputtering, Maddy brought them toward land. Her wheels spun through the brown salt water. The vehicle moved in lurches. It found a slope of entry up the shoreline, a manmade cement area lit by the moon. Soon, they were back on the road and going fast. Brown water droplets were streaming along the outside of the windows, and leaping into the night.
Davis joined Hesch up front. He took the wheel… and right away let go. “It’s driving itself."
“Gosh damn gee,” Hesch said. “Are you positive?”
“Is that any way you talk to your guardian angel?”
“Guardina angel. Fft! I should be so lucky.”
“Maybe you are.”
“There’s your motel,” he said.
Guardian angel. Fft! Fft-fft!
Maddy pulled over, and Davis, with his skateboard, got out. The meter read “20.45.” The top bar of the digital “5” flickered weakly. Davis handed Hesch two tens and a one. “Keep the change," he said.
“Wow. Thanks. Remember, if ever you need a ride…”
“Call Yellow Cab?”
“Exactly.”
Davis took one last look at Maddy, dripping seawater and pollution; and there was a fish squirming about his shins. He planted both fists on his hips. “But I’ll give you this, Mr. Hesch,” he said. “This taxi, she’s the bomb. The total bomb.”
Executive Producers
Charles David Dent
Heather Ackroyd
Louisa Thacker
[Synopsis: Killroy attempts to punish Hesch for proposing to Kimmie, but Ra Davis intervenes.]
Sunday, August 28, 2005. 10:00 AM
“I’ll take those rabbits over there.”
“Certainly, sir. Which rabbits were you interested in?”
“Those ones.”
“Yes sir. I can see them. But among that selection, which rabbits did you want?”
“All of them.”
“A-All of them?”
“All.”
“Sir, there are thirteen rabbits in that hutch.”
“I know. Got any more?”
“No. That’ll be all of them, um. May I ask, do you have experience caring for rabbits? Ever?”
“Nope. Hey, and I’ll need a bag of feed. You sell feed, right?”
“Yes, er. May I ask how you plan to contain them?”
“They’ll live in the back of my cab.”
“The back of your…cab. A taxi cab?”
“That’s right--hey, what else, what else? Hey, the little buggers will need water, right? So, level with me. Can I just use a dog dish, or what? Or do I have to get all fancy?”
“May I ask—”
“No.”
“But sir, I don’t think, in good conscience, I can sell you thirteen—”
Hesch slammed the clerk’s wrist down on the counter. The clerk struggled. Hesch shoved three thousand-dollar bills into his pasty fingers. “My cab is parked outside, you’ll find the back is unlocked. Are you listening, are you listening?”
“Yes, sir. Yes..."
“Put the rabbits in the back seat. Do not—I repeat—do not dillydally. Do not talk to my vehicle—”
“Talk to your vehicle, to-to your taxi car, you mean?”
“Yes, damn it. Do not talk to my taxi car, even if it seems to...have a mind of its own.”
“Yes, sir."
“Maddy's being an extra bitch, this morning.”
"M-Maddy?"
"You married, young man?"
"Yes. I am."
"Then you are truly among the cursed."
“Yes, sir?"
“Good boy. Now ring me up, and give me the good humor discount. Cuz any change that is left over is your tip.”
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
"Secrets"
Previously on LA By Night:
· (Off-camera) Galen is recruited to join Majestic 12 after confronting a conspirator with evidence of the conspiracy and an apparent belief in their goals
· Kate and Galen are tortured together in the basement of Serapis’ country house, following Galen’s capture
· The couple go out on their first real date to Maxim’s
· Kate leaves Galen over keeping MJ12 secret from her
· Galen begins to fall into a killer depression, launching himself into work to overcome it
Galen’s Apartment
Saturday, 27 August 2005
5:39pm
Galen opened the door to his apartment, a brown bag under his arm. The door was shut and locked behind him. His jacket was casually tossed over the arm of the chair, and he placed the whiskey from the bag in the fridge after going to the kitchen. Returning with a glass of water he sat down in the chair in the living room, placing the glass next to an ashtray. The gun soon joined it. Lighting a cigarette, he began to surf through channels on the telly.
He sighed and took a deep drag from the cigarette. The apartment felt empty without Kate around. Even with the lights on, the place seemed dark and oppressive to him that night. News reports were coming on at the moment, causing Galen to wonder, not for the first time, how much of the national news had been planted or rewritten. Eventually he reached up and undid his tie, casually tossing that aside on the couch. There was no reason to clean up now, he thought.
His cell phone began to ring. Galen picked it up mechanically to answer it. The distraction of work, he was finding, was a good way to get out of the pain. “Yes?”
The voice of Anthony Constillias came over the other end of the phone. “Are you watching the channel 4 news?”
“I will be in a minute,” he replied, reaching to change the channel. The reporter was a nice woman to look at, one he had dealings with before. She was always willing to go along with a cover-up, he remembered, so influence had been exerted to make her a station anchor rather than an on-the-scene reporter. This woman was not ungrateful for the help she received.
Only she was interviewing Jordan Smith, one of the more well-known conspiracy theorists of the area. His first book, Inside the Secret Government, was the kind that was actually well-researched and documented but still ultimately dismissed as the ranting of a paranoid lunatic. “I’m telling you, the evidence is all there,” Smith was saying. “Look, I spent the past three years going over published budgetary figures for a large number of government agencies. There are enough discrepancies there to indicate that they are hiding a lot of money – the kind of money that it would take to run the secret government that I’ve been writing about.”
“She says it’s a human interest story,” Anthony said. “They’re a local station, reporting mainly local news. Smith is a resident of the city after all.”
“But still, don’t you think this is all a little far fetched?” the reporter asked, though there was something in her eyes. A kind of wonder that maybe, just maybe, Smith might be partly right. Maybe not to the extent he thought, but at least have a little idea. “Unmarked helicopters, hidden agencies, secret bases. What you’re prosing sounds more like something out of Enemy of the State or Conspiracy Theory.”
“People have wanted evidence for a long time,” continued Smith on the telly. “These discrepancies aren’t enough, but they are a start. The government is hiding something, from the looks of it, for at least the past 50 years.”
“I suggest you come over immediately,” Galen said to Anthony as they continued to listen to the news report, cursing inwardly to himself. He hung up the phone without waiting for an answer. When it came to Lazarus, Anthony may have the information, but Galen was still (technically) the boss.
As Galen took another long drag of the cigarette, he realised that he missed the next question and was in the middle of Smith’s response. “Look, I don’t know exactly what it is they’re hiding. When I first started work on The Secret Government, I honestly didn’t know what I was going to uncover. But you’re right, some discrepancies do make sense. We know things go on behind the scenes they’ve decided is in the public interest we don’t know about. The thing that we have to guard against is secrecy in the name of national security being used to justify the greatest atrocities.”
Those words hit home for Galen harder than he thought they would. It was a question he found himself wondering about a great deal. Still, in general, they were right in covering up the occult. The fundamentalists alone would become more dangerous to society than ever before, and probably see their numbers increase. “Thank you for being with us, Mr Smith,” the reporter said, ending the interview. “In other news, the mayor today announced….” He listened to the description of a new initiative to help the homeless before shutting off the set.
Some 20 minutes later, there was a knock at his front door. “It's open,” Galen called, a hand resting near his pistol while he glanced over to the door. Anthony passed through the opening, shutting the door behind him before taking a seat near Galen.
“You know, those things will kill you,” Anthony said, noticing Galen lighting another cigarette. “I’m surprised you invited me over here. Ms. Wiccham is out, I take it?”
“Catherine left me,” Galen replied, holding the cigarette in his hand. He took a sip of his water, realising how he had referred to her. Catherine. Not Kate. Catherine. “We had a slight disagreement about my work in the Bureau.”
Anthony raised an eyebrow. “Good, I’m glad you’ve finally seen the light. Now, we’ll have to make sure she says nothing-“
“If any harm befalls Kate, I’ll kill you myself,” he said without missing a beat. Anthony opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. The look on Galen’s face told him all he needed to know. Killing Kate would leave him with nothing to lose – and he believed Anthony to be the only one in Majestic who knew about their relationship. Having nothing to lose would make him a very dangerous enemy to have.
“Very well, you have my word. Nothing will happen to her that is my fault,” Anthony replied. *At least for now,* he added to himself. She might still prove a useful bargaining piece if Galen had to be controlled.
“Good.” Galen took another drag from the cigarette. “That interview makes it clear. Smith knows too much, and is in a position to expose the agency. If he’s right with his budget information, he could trigger an investigation that will uncover the truth.”
Anthony wondered where Galen would go with this. *Probably a bit of hypocrisy. Protect one person who could expose us and condemning another in the next breath.* “Yes, there is that. What do you recommend, we kill him?”
“Hardly. He’s too visible. If an unfortunate accident were to occur to him, it would raise too many questions.” Galen had to take another drink. At his next words, he could hardly believe the change he had gone through with the only thing left for him being work. From Anthony’s look, he couldn’t believe Galen capable of being so ruthless. “We have to destroy his credibility. Tie him to a murder or something like that.”
“Are you sure we should do that?” Anthony asked. “There are other ways to destroy a man’s credibility, after all, and he isn’t taken seriously.”
“They took him seriously enough to give him a shot on the local news,” Galen pointed out. “Even if the reporter does owe her career to us, it adds some credibility to his work. And as I said, eliminating him would raise too many questions. A bit too convenient for him to vanish.”
“You have a plan?”
Galen thought for a moment. He hated doing it, but he would do his job. Burying your pain in work was one way to cope – it just happened for him that his work was dirtier than most. “We make it look like he’s responsible for one of the John Doe murders. At least some good can come of it, and we can bring closure to one family’s grief.”
*Do you really want to do this?* he asked himself, *Considering the kind of people you work for? What would Kate say if you went back to her and told her you framed a man to keep the organization secret?* While it was tempting to go back to the booze, Galen wanted to avoid that. He knew he really needed to cut down, probably really should quit the smoking as well. Having a conscience in this job was problematic at best, and not for the first time he wondered if it would be better to have the amoralism of the demons.
Anthony in the meantime was considering him with a mixture of wonder and amazement. What had that Wiccham woman said to him when they broke up? As director of operations for the area, he had given similar orders, but usually there was a hint of regret in his voice. Now Galen sounded more mechanical, as though he were just going through the motions of living. A frightening though occurred to Anthony: would this just be temporary, or would it get worse as time went by and depression overcame him? “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“I’m perfectly fine,” he replied in the same mechanical monotone that he had been speaking with all evening. And lying through his teeth the entire time; he was anything but fine. “That will be all,” he added. Anthony was about to say something, thought better of it, and left silently. That was the point when Galen could take it no longer. The telly off, with no more work, the combination of guilt and grief overcame him. Galen put his face in his hands and silently wept.
“Oh God, what’s happening to me?” he spoke out loud. His body shook violently moments later as his emotions took full control. At some point, he had enough clarity of thought to put out the cigarette. Eventually, he was just sitting there in silence, hunched over in the chair. He remained that way for a long time.
Special thanks to Sid Siclid for new formating ideas. [Editor's Synopsis: Galen's depression drives him deeper to the dark side, ordering the framing of a man for murder]
Beginnings
***Saturday, August 27, 2005 – 7:56 p.m.***
Parasol held the insurance salesman in front of her. She opened her eyes, peering drowsily over the salesman’s bobbing Adam’s Apple, an involuntary gagging reaction to Parasol’s long incisors driven deep into its neck. Parasol watched London over the bobbing Adam’s Apple, leaning against her car. She’d have to have a word with him about that. Abruptly, the quarry had no more blood to give. Parasol dropped him in a limp sallow heap.
Parasol mused over the past week spent with London. She licked the blood from around her mouth closeting for a luscious moment the repercussions her decision had.
After the initial night and the next night of bottled blood and sex fest, London had insisted Parasol move in. Parasol demurred telling London that she liked being independent. He suggested she become a “houseguest.” She told him she liked that term better. His lackeys showed her some measure of regard in their deference to her. London sent the annoying David Warren Henshaw demon brat to Iceland or something – all Parasol had to do was mention her dislike of him and poof!! He was gone. Parasol patted her ass in congratulation.
Parasol only used her cell phone to leave word at the house and gallery to set up yesterday’s meeting with Chinaka. She never, ever used her cell around London or his Lackeys. Caution was an excellent watchword.
London briefly mentioned the Cadre, taking up nearly 2 days of the unobtrusive and conversational wheedling Parasol mastered selling cotton to white men for a fair price. She didn’t really want to be patient but at this point, there was no choice. *In for a penny, in for a pound.*
Tonight’s hunt had been quick and efficient with London and Parasol working in tandem. Parasol rarely hunted but it was a talent and trait borne with the loss of her soul.
The insurance salesman hadn’t a clue what hit him. He remembered sitting at a table at Chevrine’s flirting with this amazing green-eyed woman. Her man didn’t seem to mind, which the salesman couldn’t quite understand because he, himself, was a jealous man. But to each his own.
With a couple of drinks in him, it seemed the two of them were dropping anvils hinting at a three way. The salesman wasn’t keen to bare his flabby ass for comparison to the burnished god the woman referred to as London, but the prospect of her green eyes sparkling up at him from her knees was just not something he was capable of passing up. He made a mental note to himself to be sure to suck in his gut so he could see.
The salesman remembered gathering his belongings. He remembered leaving Chevrine’s bolstered by both of their arms around him. And that sweet red whale of a car. Then there were the oil rigs off LaCienega and Slauson. He remembered them stopping, skidding in the loose gravel. The woman pulled him out of the car; he remembered that. And the guy said something like, “No, baby, I just wanna watch you go.” The salesman remembered her giving him a kiss that rocked the backs of his gonads and his soul.
And then Saint Peter asked him for I.D.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
It was 10:30 p.m. and Parasol walked past the shops on Melrose, seeing and not seeing what was ahead of her. The streets were crowded as they usually were on Melrose at that time of night. She was mightily hungry for the blood all around her, London had seen to that. Closing her eyes and shaking her head against the memory of what went on earlier in the evening, she caught sight of Citrus.
It was her favorite restaurant, or at least her favorite restaurant that didn't serve blood. Perhaps the wonderful menu might distract her. The young girl at the hostess station asked for a reservation. Parasol had none. Luckily, the owner/chef who was hot for her recognized her and she was whisked to a fine corner table. She wearily sat and ordered a scotch.
Galen had wanted to try out the new restaurant in Melrose for a while, having made reservations originally to check it out before bringing Kate to it. Even though that wasn’t going to happen, he saw no point in letting the reservations go to waste, and didn’t feel like cooking that night anyway. When he was being lead to his table, he was still in something of a daze.
After being seated, Galen ordered a bottle of their strongest wine and glanced over the menu before deciding he wasn’t hungry, or at least not as hungry as he thought. That was when he noticed the woman over in the corner table. *I’ve seen her somewhere before… that’s right, Daye’s party.* Everything clicked: she was the vampire.
Galen considered the various options that were open to him, before finally deciding to get up and walk over to her. It was a dangerous option, but his instincts told him it could be worth the risk. A vampire, especially one who seemed less interested in munching on humans, could be a valuable ally. “Pardon me,” he said, finally reaching her. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice. By any chance, were you at the party at Bibliophile? The one that was attacked by that gang?”
Parasol looked up from the ice cubes clinking in her scotch into the man's familiar face. "Yes. I was there. Though I don't believe I met you, which isn't unusual. I was somewhat of a stepchild there." Her voice held a slight edge of bitterness. "You are?"
Galen caught himself before giving one of the odd replies he was apt to give. “Galen Eldridge,” he said, offering her his hand. “Unfortunately, not everyone is quite so, let us say ‘tolerant’ of those who walk at night. I wish I had a chance to meet you there, but the crashers had other plans.”
Parasol took his hand and looked into his face, her patience for human foibles almost at its end. "So are you the tolerant one of the group?" she asked as she turned his wrist upwards and watched his face blanch imperceptibly. This was a cool customer. Watcher? Demon? Government? *Hmmm.* His hand barely flinched.
How much could he take, she wondered. "Would you like to be my guest for dinner?" She let go of his hand and smiled a knowing grin at him. "I've ordered steak - very rare. But I'm sure the waiter can add what you want to the order. Game, Galen?"
Galen nodded to Parasol. “Certainly,” he replied, taking a seat. The waiter from his table looked around in confusion at noticing his customer had vanished before Galen waved him over.
Naturally it would be steak very rare, for someone whose usual fare would be a warm, liquid protein diet. Perhaps he had misjudged her tolerance for humans. “No need to add anything to the order, though. Think I would rather just talk.” Looking down, he noticed that his glass had gone from full to halfway extremely fast. He put on a playful grin as he looked up. “That and drink.”
Cool customer indeed and soon to be a cool shitfaced customer if he didn't slow down. Parasol addressed the waiter, "I would like another scotch and please give the gentleman another..."
Galen considered the wine glass for a moment. "I think I'll switch to the scotch as well."
"Scotch. And please impress upon Armand that I want my steak very rare." Parasol looked at Galen. Still no flinch. That usually sent humans into paroxysms of fear.
"Okay, Mr. Freeze. I give up, though I'll withhold final judgment until you watch me eat my steak." Parasol raised her glass to Galen. "Here’s to single malt and O-Neg.” They clinked the lead crystal glasses. “Now - what could we possibly have to talk about?" Parasol innocently put her chin in one hand and swirled her scotch/rocks in the other.
As he usually did, Galen found himself cursing the smoking bans in LA. He also found himself hating the smoking, but no longer finding any reason to kick the habit. "Oh, I don't know," he casually remarked. "I'm afraid that I never caught your name, for one. Think we both know about certain elements of the city, however, which prefer to sleep during the day."
"Ok. For one, my name is Parasol. Two, we're going to chat about vampires? Why?" Parasol coolly responded tossing the ball back into his court. The couple sitting at the next table looked around at Parasol and Galen, wondering if what they heard was what they heard.
The look Galen shot the couple was enough to turn their attention away from the table. He fought to keep control of his emotions, knowing that remaining calm would be more intimidating. "Just mentioning it as a for instance. Sure, there are things less work related we could discuss, if you prefer."
The look Galen gave the couple was hitched up nearly as high on the "kiss my ass" meter as the one Parasol was two seconds off shooting them. Ok. Parasol had to give Galen his props. She didn't scare him one bit. She could work with that. "I'm guessing government. You've got that lone wolf angry fuck you manner they teach at Langley.
"Which isn't necessarily a bad thing. You're not scared of me and I'm not scared of you. So, what are you doing drinking alone on a Saturday night? Where's your other half of the Redhead Twins?"
Asking that question told him one thing he did not want to know: she had picked up on him and Kate. Then again, that could just be the paranoia talking. Which naturally got him thinking about Kate again and how much he missed her. "She's uh, staying with friends," he said with no small amount of regret in his voice. "Though I do notice you're drinking alone as well. Seems we both have our own troubles to deal with."
Galen's last statement caught her in the gut, knocking her off of her high horse. Although Parasol loved the view from up there, right now she didn't have the energy to climb back up.
"True," she sighed honestly. "And truce." She eyed Galen mischievously hoping he'd take what she was going to say in the correct spirit.
"Though you don't even flinch at my threatening to snack on your arm but I mention a woman and you collapse into a relative mess. You can't be government. You must be mafia." And she hehe’d.
"Right on the first guess," he replied with a smile that seemed a bit off, probably because he was still in the middle of wanting to break down. Again. "Dealing with bureaucrats and vampires can toughen you to a lot, except losing someone you love." *And it was all my fault,* he thought, not for the first time.
Watching this hardcase get all fuzzy around the corners made Parasol consider her predicament. She felt herself go all gooey too.
"Can't be worse than thinking about eating someone you love." They both stared into their drinks for a hard minute. Thankfully, the waiter came to the table, presenting the mooing flesh in front of Parasol.
Considering her last musing, she had lost her appetite for the steak, staring at it with disdain. And for some reason, she didn't want Galen to watch her consume it.
"Are you sure you've lost her?"
"After everything I've done, I'm not sure I deserve her," he said truthfully. Facing what he had done in the past, the things he was doing now, was never easy. Drink became as easy escape. "But yes, I am sure. My work is hidden behind a veil of secrecy and lies, which she rightly could not stand." She did have a point the other day; how could she trust him again? *Focus on work,* became his mantra.
"Look, I see your cute little Men in Black outfit Galen, so I know from experience that you lot can do some funky stuff. But it can't be - well - as bad as you think."
A wave of emotion captured Parasol. She looked back into her drink thinking it the safest place to keep her eyes as her thoughts wandered to what she and London had done just three short hours ago.
"Secrecy is sometimes necessary." She thought of Chinaka's mad desire to know everything about her. "Lies are sometimes kind."
Those were exactly the words Galen needed to hear at the moment. "Thank you," he said, sighing and slowly going back to work on his drink. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be talking your ear off like this."
His mind paused at something else she had said, finally clicking in his brain. She had to have some idea about exactly what he was. The part of him that focused on work kicked in. The change was only slightly apparent as he became more rigid. "You know about us. Perhaps we can help one another. If you were willing to periodically share information with us about those who walk at night, we could make sure certain troubles do not come your way. Say, if a hunter were after you."
Parasol leaned against the back of her chair, tipping slightly on the back legs. Two seconds ago, he nearly wailed on her shoulder. She focused on him, allowing her face to vamp a minute fraction. MiB Galen would know it though. She narrowed her eyes to make sure he understood what she was about to say.
"Don't play me, Galen. I might be willing to help you, but it certainly wouldn't be because you'd save me from – what’d you say... ’certain troubles.’ I've managed to elude what you call "hunters" for well over a century.
"And as for any information you THINK you have that can help me - don't need it. I can pretty much get whatever information I need for my family and me to survive. I'm not a greedy woman. Save that J. Edgar mess for the Sopranos."
Parasol leaned forward, righting her chair and placing her forearms on the table. "On the other hand, if you are really the fearless broken-hearted man I THOUGHT was sitting at my table sharing my blues, then we can deal. Do you want to lose two women in the same night? Do you want another scotch or are you ready to ‘walk the night.’ Sheesh."
Galen chuckled, his expression again softening. He made a mental note not to try to intimidate the undead, or at least not the older undead. The desire for scotch won out, and he finished off his drink before ordering more. Regret returned to his voice as he spoke next. "And I would prefer to not scare off another woman - and it was yesterday."
Galen leaned back in his chair in thought, not realizing how precarious the balancing act he was engaging in was. The combination of drink and sorrow sent him tumbling backwards onto the floor, and scrambling to get back up. "Um, I meant to do that."
Parasol nearly peed herself laughing. She watched him right himself completely in that manly-man manner, wholly chagrined, before he joined in her laughter.
At 1:30 a.m., the restaurant sat around a completely empty and clean restaurant, save for the table with the two people no one had the courage to tell to get out.
At 1:45 a.m., London sat in the Beemer across the street from Citrus looking through the huge front window, wondering who the hell the white boy human was that was making Parasol laugh. He flicked his cigarette out the window and made a note to find out.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
10:05am Saturday 27th August
Sorrow would be the first to admit that in general he couldn’t cook but like most people who claimed to be unable to cook there were a few simple things he could do in the kitchen. A full English breakfast was one of them. He poured out a cup of coffee and sat down to a plate heaped with sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, beans, fried bread and grilled tomatoes. Jade wouldn’t approve and during their trip to England had tried to break him of the habit, but it was unlikely that cholesterol would have chance to kill him and today he was contemplating magic.
Last night after his shopping trip, Sorrow had realised that merely killing Xavier with a praentath would make for a fairly tenuous cover story. The myoleth weren’t that uncommon but a triad's presence in L.A. would be sufficiently unusual to be noted. On top of that it was fairly common knowledge in certain circles that the ritual for creating a praentath was in human hands. Should the Society become suspicious about Xavier’s death then it would take little to confirm the absence of a triad. And at that point the Society would look for other potential killers. Sorrow’s name would certainly turn up in such an investigation - after all, he’d been vocal in his unhappiness with Xavier’s actions.
To forestall that whole sorry chain of events Sorrow needed to make a Myoleth Triad appear in L.A. and to do that Sorrow would need magic. Thankfully he had met a triad; it had been in London while hunting one evening. The illusions Sorrow was therefore going to scatter across L.A. would as a result be much more convincing.
He’d found the spell he needed last night, and had all the materials he would require on hand. However, first he’d let breakfast settle while he finished off another of his research projects. While looking for the praentath he’d found a couple more references to Zhi-ming-de shu. He decided to follow those up for the rest of the morning.
********
Sorrow closed the book and rubbed at his temples. *Well, that stake certainly lives up to its name.* Zhi-ming-de shu was lethal. Paradoxically a vampire probably had more chance of surviving against it than a demon or human. Thankfully there were spells to protect against the stake’s effects and if what he read was true, should Sam make a mistake with it there would be time to reverse the damage. *Unless he’s really angry.*
The bonding process was also obviously complete based on what Jade had told him about her encounter with Sam, as well as Sam’s rather protective behaviour when he’d brought the stake to training. *I wonder who is the wielder and who the wielded in that partnership?* If the accounts were correct at least two previous wielders of the weapon had come to a sticky end purely as a result of the stake. He’d speak to Tash about it but there wasn’t much they could do. Zhi-ming-de Shu wasn’t going to be separated from Sam anytime soon. Sorrow couldn’t afford to dwell on it though. He had other things to do today.
Sorrow quickly reviewed his notes on the illusion spells that he would need to cast. They were very similar to the spells wrapped round Hizashi but whereas those encouraged people to ignore what obviously shouldn’t be there, these spells would make people see what simply was not there. He would anchor the spells in small quartz crystals and place the stones across L.A.; over the next couple of nights the spells would activate and create the impression of a Myoleth Triad looking for Xavier. Everything would be in place by Tuesday and come Wednesday morning Xavier should be dead.
After a brief lunch Sorrow gathered the various items he would need to cast the spells and moved them into the training room. One ritual cleansing later, with incense filling the room and a circle of stones laid out upon the floor, Sorrow was ready. Taking up one of twelve small crystals Sorrow sat within the circle and brought to mind the image of the triad he had seen in London. To it he added a sense of questing and burning rage. With the image fixed in his mind he raised his voice in a slow sonorous chant and projected power and the images into the clear quartz. Some fifteen minutes later Sorrow ceased chanting and cradled his head in his hands. Fighting off the first faint stirrings of backlash he set the now cloudy crystal outside the circle and placed the second crystal before him. Taking a deep breath he focused and started the whole process again.
*******
The last of the crystals lay before him, cloudy like the other twelve. Sorrow could finally give in to the pain that flowed through every fibre of his being. He stood up and staggered into the main lounge of his apartment. He needed food, painkillers and sleep in that order. Holding himself together long enough to make a couple of sandwiches, Sorrow took two Imitrex with a whole bottle of water. After setting his alarm for 10pm he collapsed into bed and once the drugs had taken the edge off his pain, blessed oblivion claimed him.
The long awaited return of Daye...
*** Saturday, August 27, 2005, 8 PM ***
Daye stood in the center of the large, empty room, surveying it with a critical eye. Finally, after over a week of nonstop work, the shop was about ready for the reopening. Daye couldn’t get over what a difference they’d made in so short a time. When she had returned to the shop on Sunday afternoon, Daye had been devastated.
*Flashback*
Gingerly, Daye stepped across the broken doorframe and into the shattered interior of her bookshop. Her bookshop. Funny how despite the fact that the store belonged to the Watchers' Council technically, she thought of it as her own. Now, Bibliophile stood in ruins. The debris from the attack had been swept neatly into piles around the floor. The shelves, covered in cloth and shoved to the sides of the room, had still managed to get broken and there were books scattered everywhere, some torn and tattered, while others remained intact. Daye felt a flood of melancholy at the sight. She wished fleetingly that she had allowed Drew to come with her as he had asked to do. Daye had thought it unnecessary. She felt otherwise now. At least he would have provided a sympathetic shoulder to lean on.
As Daye stood in the center of the room, slowly turning to take in the rampant destruction, she heard a noise from the area of the kitchen. Daye turned quickly, on guard. She relaxed when she saw Joshua exiting, carrying a pile of broken wood. He stopped short at the sight of her and sighed. “Miss Blaise,” he said regretfully, “I wuz hopin’ you wouldn’t be here ‘til I had managed to get most of this picked up.”
“You don’t have to do all that, Josh,” Daye said, smiling softly. “It’s not really your job, now is it?”
“I jus’ didna want you to see what those hoodlums done to yer store,” Josh replied, his eyes flashing with anger. “It’s not right.”
Daye nodded in understanding. She moved forward and began to pick up some debris. “Well, we’ll just have to make it right,” she said. “We’ll make it better even, Josh. Just wait and see. Bibliophile will be ready before you know it.”
*End Flashback*
“It sure does look perty Miss Blaise,” Josh’s voice drew Daye out of her reverie as he came up behind her.
“How’s the kitchen?” Daye asked, smiling broadly at him.
Josh grinned, his dark face split by the joyous flash of white teeth. “It’s so nice, so fancy. I’ve never had one like it.”
Daye nodded, tickled by his response. “Good, good,” she said. “The furniture comes in tomorrow, and we get the restaurant and the shop restocked by the end of the week. Next weekend we officially open back up for business.”
Josh nodded. “The menu’s are all printed and they look great,” he said. “You’ve don’ a fine job here, Miss Blaise.”
“You too, Josh,” Daye replied. “I should go ahead and finish up that paperwork before I call it a night. Why don’t you head on home. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow.”
Josh agreed and quickly gathered his things. Daye scanned the room one last time with a critical eye. The shop looked fabulous. The contractors she’d brought in had repaired the façade, and redone the interior to her specifications. Daye had decided to go ahead with the restaurant retrofit as well as the repairs. They had taken out half the wall leading to the restaurant next door and added a loft above the store on both sides in the rear, with a graceful, wrought iron staircase leading up on the side of each store. This area now housed the older volumes, as well as all the candles and wiccan supplies Daye carried. The lower level would be all shelves, couches and tables for browsing. The counter would still hold the information area and the small coffee shop, as well as a small selection of pastries. The kitchen had been converted into a private room where Daye could meet with customers and also where she could do the paperwork. The rear store room was now solely the store/break room for the shop.
On the other side of the partial wall, the restaurant waited for tables and chairs, booths, and the like. The kitchen area was offset by a short counter, where customers would be able to sit and watch Josh prepare the food. The interior was rustic, with lots of wrought iron fixtures. Daye had plants and trees coming as well as the fixtures, and there would be pot shelves overflowing with brick a brack. The interior would be cozy, and reminiscent of the outdoor café, which would be expanded to offer seating in front of both the bookshop and the restaurant. Daye was thrilled about the opening and had decided to drop a line to her friends inviting them to stop by and see the all new and improved Bibliophile. Smiling, she went into her office and began to finish up the day’s work, composing brief notes to everyone before she closed up and headed home to meet Drew for a late dinner and a classic sci-fi movie on the TV.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
“Recollections of a Conspirator, Part I”
Special Guest Stars:
Claudia Christian as Cassandra
Christopher Plummer as “The Gentleman” (Algernon Farefax)
Previously on LA By Night:
· Kate and Galen have their first real date together at “Maxim’s”
· Galen confesses the truth about his work to Kate at last.
· Kate leaves Galen.
· Galen begins to bury himself in work
· After meeting with Anthony Constillias in private, Galen breaks down
· Galen meets Parasol for dinner – and continues his emotional breakdown
Galen’s Apartment
Sunday, 28 August 2005
3:17am
Galen’s feet felt heavy as he climbed the stairs to his apartment.
He didn’t know if it was depression as his thoughts went back to having lost Kate, tiredness from the busy day followed by late night and drinking, or the memories of his past which had begun to return. Most likely, it was a combination of all of those. Now his motions were mechanical again, despite the meeting with Parasol. A vampire, someone controlled by a demon.
Galen thought there was a connection there, not the spark he had felt with Kate and Cassandra before her. It was the kind of connection only two people either starting into the darkness, or already there, could make.
As he stumbled over the threshold of the door in his apartment, Galen sighed. The door was quickly shut and locked. Galen did not make it to the bedroom, instead collapsing on the couch to sleep.
But sleep would not come…..
Only memories….
Galen’s Office/Quarters – Area 51
20 May 2002 6:57pm
It was hardly the most romantic of settings for a first date, but it had to do. The desk afforded the only real place to eat, and Galen had done his best to clear off the top of it before she arrived. Food, entertainment, setting, all provided an interesting challenge in Area 51.The window in the oak door allowed him to get away with turning off the lights and using a few candles. Food was unfortunately only available from the mess hall, but their mess hall was actually good.
A 30-year-old woman sat across from him, her long, straight hair casually draped over one shoulder. She wore a black dress which served to accent her figure rather than hide it, and a simple silver cross hung around her neck. They were lucky that the mess was serving something actually date-like that evening, steak with mashed potatoes and greens. “Thank you,” Cassandra said as Galen poured wine into a glass and the sound of the Andrews Sisters came from the computer speakers:
You’re really swell, I have to admit you
Deserve some expressions that really fit you,
And so I’ve racked my brain, hoping to explain
All the things you do to me
Bei mir bist du scheon, please let me explain
Bei mir bist du scheon means your grand
Bei mir bist du scheon, again let me explain
It means you’re the fairest in the land….
“I’m sorry, but this is the best I can do,” Galen said, sitting down across from her. The candlelight made her look prettier than she had been before, he thought. Chasing demons and vampires was something she shouldn’t have to do.
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she replied, smiling at him as she reached a hand across the table to touch his. “Just think, if you’d asked me out in the field, our date could consist of having the mosquitoes feed on us.”
Galen laughed, smiling back at her. It was true, given their last assignment. He had realised he cared for her as more than a partner then, traipsing through the swamps after that group of demons. “I know, and they’ll probably send us off to worse places before long.”
“You’re probably right.” Cassandra continued to smile. “Let’s try not to think about that now, though. Just try to have a nice evening.” That night was the first of many together as they dated, and fell in love with each other. The pair quickly became inseparable, and along with Jocasta, Goethi, Lucky, and Circe, the six made quite the group when they were all together in Area 51.
Philadelphia
4 July 2002 11:42am
They looked like any other couple on a day out, wearing shorts and short-sleeved shirts. Galen and Cassandra sat together at one of those outdoor cafés, the kind where you could get burgers, fries, and a soda cheap. “You know,” Cassandra said, putting out her cigarette before snacking on fries. “I think if we plan it right, we really will get a chance to see the fireworks tonight.”
“I’m sure we will,” Galen replied, reaching across to touch her hand gently. “I know you really want a chance to see them in Philadelphia for once.”
“Well, yeah. I mean, it’s Philadelphia. The place where we declared independence.” Cassandra smiled playfully at him. “Some days, I don’t think you have a patriotic bone in your body.”
Galen put on a mock hurt expression. “Hey, I’m plenty patriotic enough. You just like symbolism too much.”
“Hmmm, maybe,” Cassandra agreed. She moved over next to him and kissed him on the cheek, draping an arm around over his shoulder. “There’s one thing you never told me. Just how did you talk them into paying for our vacation here?”
“Oh, that was easy, I talked to our friendly Gentleman about the fact that we’re overdue. Authorization came through a few days later.”
“That was nice of him,” she replied. “Sweet of you to do as well.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, turning towards Cassandra. Their eyes met and they just sat there enjoying each other’s company. Slowly, he leaned in to kiss her fully on the lips, arms wrapping around each other. “I love you, Cassandra,” he said when they finally parted, still continuing to just hold each other.
“I love you too, Galen,” she replied, kissing him once more lightly. Her head lowered and her voice dropped, the first time they had exchanged those words. “You know, I never thought I would get to say that to anyone.”
“Never thought I would either,” he said, enjoying the feel of their bodies close together. “But I’m glad I got to with you.”
“And we’re going to see the fireworks tonight.”
Room 314, Hotel in Orlando, Florida
4 August 2005, 11:57pm
Cassandra opened the door to the hotel room, her double breasted black suit and white blouse unruffled despite several meetings. Why did they have to use a business cover for this assignment? She smiled to herself in pleasant anticipation that she was about to be back with the man she loved again. A bottle of fine wine held in the crook of her shoulder, Cassandra slipped the key into the lock and entered the hotel room. “I’m back,” she called out. “Galen, are you in yet?” she asked, placing her purse down on the table.
As she undid her hair from a ponytail and walked around the corner, she heard what sounded like crying coming from the direction of the bed. “Galen?” she said, concern in her voice. “Oh my god, are you all right?” she asked as she caught sight of Galen sitting on the floor by the bed. His face was buried in his hands as sobs racked his body.
Cassandra quickly moved over to Galen’s side, taking him gently in her arms and holding him. He leaned against her and was silent for a while. She would wait for him to speak, just as each had done in the past, when some of the more questionable things had to be done. She knew at that moment he had taken care of the assassination, and wasn’t able to rationalize it as well as normal.
Or maybe at all.
“Was this really necessary?” he finally said. “Sometimes I have to wonder if we’re doing the right thing.”
“We both know what would happen if the world accepted the truth,” Cassandra said soothingly. On occasion they would feel the guilt of the worse things and need someone to talk to. It was the same blanket rationalization they normally offered, which seemed to help. “All of the fundamentalists will use it to gain more converts, and maybe starting a nice religious war in the process as everyone wants to claim they have the true religion. Fear and suspicion that your neighbour is not really a human being.”
“But the killing… the secrecy… will it never end?”
“Probably not. All we can do is take it one day at a time.”
The words were hardly a comfort, though the episode continued for another 20 minutes. Guilt continued to get to them on occasion, even though they wanted to put on a brave face. Still, they tried to press on. Everyone in MJ12 did. Sending up cries of ‘necessity’ and how they had little choice in the matter, the consequences of not acting the way they did being worse than the minor evils they had to carry out.
A Hospital in Atlanta
17 September 2004
Galen could not make out much when he opened his eyes. The vampires seemed to have come out of nowhere when they had attacked them. Everything seemed slightly blurry, and his head throbbed. His vision soon cleared, and a concerned, familiar face soon filled his vision. The Gentleman, personally overseeing the operation. “Don’t try to move too much,” he said, gently pushing Galen back down on the hospital bed. “They tell me you have several broken ribs, among other things.”
That was obvious from the amount of pain he was in, he wanted to say. There was one more important thought on his mind at the time. “Cassandra?” he asked.
The look on the Gentleman’s face was all he needed. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could, and those responsible are now dust.”
[Editor’s Synopsis: Galen, getting back to his apartment, is jolted to remember his past by recent events in his life]
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
***Saturday 27th August, 2005…23:59 (Midnight basically :P)***
*Sara had said nothing about that feeling!* Meh moaned to herself, shuddering at the knowledge that she’ll have to go through it again.
A while later she was wandering warily down the night street. Sea-Doc was nowhere in sight and she was beginning to wonder if she was in the right place at all. She was relieved at finding a road. When she’d first looked around she found herself in the middle of the woods. She thought LA was supposed to be a city!
Both ways up and down the street was lined with trees, old fashioned cars and heritage buildings. She stared in wonder, oblivious to the figure that wandered up behind her.
An arm gripped suddenly about her neck and her hands were held solidly behind her back. "Just relax babe!" whispered a seedy voice, as she felt it lean in closer to her neck. Meh mentally groaned, *Fantastic!* The head was hovering just above skin. "This wont ‘urt a…" they paused suddenly, "…hold on a moment!" The voice seemed to dignify itself in confusion and the grip on her hands slackened.
Meh broke her arms free of their bond and threw the guy off her, flipping him over her head. "Sorrryyyyyy…Oooof!" He landed hard on his back. "Simple mistake!" he groaned.
"What the hell isssoOOoh my god what is wrong with your face?" Meh stared pointing at the grotesque features before her on the ground.
Scrambling to his feet he got up and stared in confusion at her. "What’s wrong with my face? What’s wrong with you?" he replied in plain ignorance.
Meh sniffed. "Gee thanks! But I believe I asked first. What the hell are you?" She had to admit, there was an unnatural amount of people dominance here, but she’d never seen a creature like this before!
"I’m a vampire!" He made some gesture with his hands to represent a monster. "What the devil is wrong with you?"
Meh stared at him slowly shaking her head. "You’re not a vampire."
"Pardon? Yes I am! Is there something about my features," he gestured to his face, "that’s not quite clear in proving sufficient evidence of that?"
"Um, yeah," she replied. "I believe it's called your ‘face’! Although I can see where you might get confused in that department."
The ‘vampire’ straightened himself defensively, "Excuse me! This…" he gestured to his face again, "…is a vampire face. This…" he relaxed his face to a more human one, "…is quite the contrary!"
Meh watched the ‘vampire’ morph his features with a bland thoughtful look on her face. "Gees, you were unlucky!" she murmured.
"What?"
"I said you were unlucky," she repeated louder as though he was deaf.
He cringed at her tone and cleared his right ear with his finger. "Why am I so unlucky?" he repeated. "I’m not unlucky, I think I’m quite superior rather," he answered haughtily.
"Riiight."
He sniffed, "Well what the darn hell are you supposed to be? I would have thought you were a vampire by the lack of blood flow, but I was told I would be able to tell who was and who wasn’t just by looking at my fellow chums and dietary requirements!"
"What I am is none of your damn business…" *Although you pretty much sort of have figured out your own question,* she thought, considering how much of a better deal she'd got as she eyed him up and down. "…but what I want is!" She drew out her sword that was concealed behind her cloak. It switched on as she subtly flicked the little trigger.
The ‘vampire’ stared at the sword, a little uneased by its gentle hum. "Ah…" he started, repeatedly darting glances back to the long blade. "…w-what do you want?" he asked cautiously.
*This guy's too easy! They can’t be this weak here!* She kept her face passive as she casually twirled the blade around in her left hand without as much as a blink of concentration on it as it sliced figures lazily though the air. "I need to know about the Beazor. Where is it?"
The vampire swallowed hard, "Ahhh…the Beazor?" he repeated, warily watching the blade. "I…um…." He broke. "Look I’m actually new…" Meh’s eyebrow raised in amusement at his uncertainty. "I’m with the Black Veins." Meh’s sigh expressed more than just boredom as her blades pace changed. "I don’t know where the Beazor is…" The blade sliced ever closer to his throat. "…but I know a fellow that might!" he finished, in a panicked rush.
"Who? And where is he?" she pressed, wavering the tip of the blade millimetres from the guy'ss throat, making a study of it.
"B-Bob!" he squeaked. Gulping. "He has a b-bar down that way. B-Bob's Bar!" He pointed in a general direction.
Meh sighed. It was most likely this place had changed, not to mention it was weird enough on its own as it was, but the streets were probably not what she knew. That was even less of a help. She considered the whimpering mess infront of her, *Pleaaaase don’t let them all be like this! He did say he was new… that better mean something.* Determined to make more than one use of this guy, she prodded his neck with her sword and a trickle of blood trailed down his throat. Meh’s eyes widened at its drawing sight, then willed herself, *Later… later! You can hold! Plus this guy's no use for essence.* The temptation to disembody him was still a strong candidate… but there’d be no challenge, just a subduing. "Tell you what. You’ll take me to this Bob man."
"Can I live?"
Meh considered; technically he was already dead… that’s if it went by her experience, but she knew what he meant. "Mmm, no." she answered casually.
"Then why should I take you?" He stuck his nose up higher.
"Because I’m still going to kill you dick!"
"But then you wouldn’t find Bob!"
"I’ll find Bob sooner or later, but it’s you you should be worrying about."
He stared at her confused and with a hint of terror in his eyes.
Meh sighed. "Think about it. If you take me to Bob’s now, then you might be able to find an escape while doing so."
He seemed to consider her advice, registering a sense of logic, then proudly stuck his nose up.
"Or you just die now." She pressed the blade further. It seemed to slice through his skin without much force or skill beyond a gentle guidance.
"Ulkg…" he gurgled. "Oh’ckhay, oh’ckhay!" Meh pulled the blade back and he slapped his hands over his throat to stop the sudden gush of blood.
Meh quickly closed her eyes at the sight, centring her mind to focus on the job. *Wait till you’re at Bob’s.* She opened her eyes and spotted the blood dripping from his fingers that blocked the cut. Quickly she started up a forced hum to deter her attention and shoved the guy in front of her to start moving…*Bob’s! Bob’s! Bob’s!…*
A little while after they had begun walking the ‘vampire’ suddenly spoke. "Hm, looks like trouble at the hospital," he mentioned absently, darting glances at Meh to see her reaction.
"Shut up," Meh replied and shoved him on.
"…god damn Spanish Inquisition!!!"
The outburst distracted Meh momentarily and she turned her head in time to find Sea-Doc fly through the air out of what the vampire had called the hospital, and land in a heap at the bottom the stairs.
Meh burst out laughing at the display as Sea-Doc picked herself up and brushed herself off all the while muttering something to herself about ‘barbarians’.
"You! Stop!" Meh was stifling her laughter as she grabbed the ‘vampire’ who had started to edge away and dragged him up behind her.
Chuckling, "Hey Sea-Doc. What’s up?"
"May they all be goblinised!" Sea-Doc grumbled to herself, staring askance at the hospital behind her before turning her attention to the approaching Meh.
"So, you did get here! I was beginning to worry."
"Hehe. Of course I got here… although," her tone darkened, "I have some matters to settle with Sara." Her skin prickled as she remembered that god awful feeling. "And I landed in the middle of the woods! Woods! I thought we were in LA."
Sea-Doc shook her head. "Let's just get on with this."
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
At the bottom of the stairs just outside the apartments, Reah leaned against her bike's handle rubbing her forehead. It was barely recognisable now, the dull thudding, but she wished she hadn’t whipped her head around so suddenly at the hooligan that just ripped down the street.
She needed to hunt tonight; keep her mind off worrying. Drinking was an option, but with last night's episode still wearing off she thought otherwise.
Reah quickly sprang into action in a slow and tired way, revved up her engine and sped off into the night.
No matter how much she kept telling herself that she was hunting, she couldn’t help but feel it was for Sam and not vampires.
Determined, she hunched lower in her seat and sped up as she leaned into the curve.
**************
Sorrow stood in the shower and let the hot water cascade over him. A couple of hours' sleep and a few painkillers had dealt with the worst of the backlash; now he needed to start scattering the crystals around. With that in mind he'd do a quick hunt. It would place the spells where they needed to be.
Sorrow finished showering and got dressed. Gathering up Hizashi, he walking into the training room and looked down on the quartz crystals he had enchanted that afternoon. Slipping the crystals into the pockets of his coat Sorrow left the apartment and headed out into the darkness.
Xavier watched as Sorrow descended the front steps of his apartment building. *So what are you doing tonight Mr Bad Ass Hunter?* Xavier slid out of the van - Sorrow was moving out on foot and following him in a vehicle would be impossible.
**************
It wasn’t long before Reah found a vampire. *Yay,* she thought with a little less enthusiasm. She really just wanted to find Sam and take him home… alive preferably... much preferably. She nearly would have just left the vampire alone as well if it weren’t for the damn helpless stupid couple that seemed to think the complete stranger's proposition to follow her into the dark alley was a reasonable one. *Where do these stupid people come from?*
She sighed and followed up behind them into the alley turning her lights on high beam to blind the…*Absufuckinglutely nothingness?* She didn’t like this.
She hopped off her bike to search manually for any possible escape route she could think of. After opening up the dumpster only to find your expected pile of rubbish, but this time with the added bonus of a pair of smelly socks that were beyond the repair of a washing machine, she let the lid crash down and emphasised her frustration by slamming her fist hard on top of it. *Where the hell did they go?*
That was her last thought before something - someone - came crashing down on her, pinning her to the ground with their knees forcing every breath out of her lungs and sending her into a mad coughing fit.
“Well, well! A hunter has become the hunted!” A twisted face grinned down at her with sickly yellow eyes.
The apparent ‘innocent’ couple that had followed the vampiress in now stood to her sides wearing twisted grinning faces of their own.
Sorrow caught the scent of vampires on the breeze and watched as a young woman on a motorcycle followed three people into an alleyway. Sorrow began to run; the scent was too strong, there was more than one vampire in that alley.
Sorrow reached the entrance with his sword unsheathed. Taking in the scene he smiled, *Three vamps, one hunter... this should be easy.* Sorrow began to walk deliberately down the alley angling his blade to cast its light across the vampires. At this distance it was too weak to cause anything more than mild discomfort but it got everybody's attention. "Lookey here...” the vampire pinning own the girl called, “two for the price of one. Get him!"
The two vampires moved to attack. Sorrow smiled as Hizashi bit through the first's neck to leave a slow settling cloud of dust, the second was a little quicker and manage to avoid Sorrow's initial strike.
The glimmering light distracted the vampiress pinning Reah momentarily. After she’d made her little speech and Reah had time to focus, she took that moment to flip the vampiress off her to the opposite side. She rolled herself and pushed herself up, unsheathing Sharier in the same motion with her free hand.
“Oooh! Clever, ain’t ya?” the vampiress said as she brushed herself off, smiling.
Reah wasted no time listening to her speeches and covered their distance with purposeful steps, blade readied. The vampiress studied her the whole time then shifted her feet. As Reah sliced towards her torso the vamp threw her wrist down to block it with an ominous clang throwing small sparks.
She smiled at Reah’s ‘WTF’ expression and held up her wrists; sleeves fell back revealing steel wrist guards. “What’s the matter?” she pouted at the same time a cloud of dust exploded at Reah’s left. It caught the vamp's attention too, adding a moan to match her pout.
Reah darted in again and the vamp snapped back at her sudden charge. Reah struck continuously at the vamp and she continued deflecting them and giggling like a disturbed child as they danced.
The battle between Sorrow and his opponent was going much more smoothly, despite the vampire's speed and strength Sorrow's advantage of reach and obviously magical weapon had evened the odds. The vampire growled as Sorrow nicked it with the very tip of Hizashi and Sorrow smiled as the growl turned to a yelp as the wound began to smoke. That was all the distraction Sorrow needed and with two swift sweeps of his blade another dust cloud floated on the breeze.
The vampire and the girl were at a stand-off, though the hunter was fast and obviously skilled with an ordinary blade she had only so many targets to aim at and the vampire was quick enough to cover those. Sorrow moved up to help trying to flank the vampire and end this battle.
*Fucking die already!* Reah cursed the grinning vampire, sweat beading on her forehead in concentration.
“Having fun?” she giggled again. “I am.”
Reah’s pace dropped half a beat, which the vamp took up on the flying opportunity, and snap kicked Reah’s chest in a flash sending her flying back into the brick wall and black garbage bags.
Clearing her spinning vision she caught the glimpse of a couple of wavering guys with katanas that moved in on the vampiress, moulding back to one solid figure as they did so.
“Oh! Handsome food!” the vampiress said as he came in steadily to take up Reah’s vacant space.
Sorrow delivered a couple of skilled blows she had to jump back from at the same time she struggled to deflect, not that she let it show through that insane smirk.
Just as Sorrow's blows had the vampire on the defensive blinding agony blazed up his forearm as the muscles in his hand spasmed. The pain was of no real concern; he had dealt with far worse. Unfortunately the cramp had occurred during his latest strike against the vampiress and unable to grip Hizashi's hilt properly he promptly lost the sword completely as it struck the vampire's wrist guard.
That insane smirk widened into a full-blown grin revealing a gleaming set of fangs.
As Kaiya moved in on her shining advantage something suddenly flashed across her vision above her torso as the ‘pms’ girl leapt up from the just behind her sight.
“Oooh! Cramps,” she groaned at the piercing pain that sliced through her middle. “Haven’t felt those in a long time!”
Reah straightened as the dust settled to the ground and looked at the hunched man before her. “You ok?” she asked in concern.
Sorrow held up a finger in admonishment and cocked his head and listened. When he was certain there were no other vampires around he looked at the girl and smiled. "Yeah I'm fine." His fingers began to massage his forearm. "You?"
Reah snorted and smiled ruefully, kicking the pile of dust before her for no real reason. “Alive.” She nodded to his arm. “That happen often?”
"Not recently, I'd be in the wrong line of work otherwise." Sorrow walked over to his sword and picked it up, running his gaze down the blade to check the edge. "Well no damage done," he smiled then slid the glowing katana back into its sheath.
Reah quirked her head at his blade until the glow was completely cut out by its sheath. ”Your blade?” she said. “From my experience they don’t normally do that.” She smiled curiously and hefted her own to gesture before sliding it back into its sheath concealed under her coat.
Still working on his arm Sorrow nodded. "Sun-forged steel, it sheds true sunlight and thus is rather useful when trying to kill vampires. You don't have to cut through to the spine to dust them either.
"I'm Sorrow, you?"
Despite her mood Reah’s eyebrows shot up in expressed interest. “I want one!” She looked thoughtful, then smiled. “But my name's Reah. Thanks.” She shook his hand.
He walked over to the bike. "No problem. It looked like you could use the assist. I hate smart ones," Sorrow smiled as he looked over the BMW. "Are these standard issue to female vamp hunters or something?"
“Nah,” Reah sniffed smiling back. “Claimed it off a fat vamp in Germany. Thought I’d rescue the poor thing's suspension. Plus the vamp owed me, ruined my favourite skateboard. Why do you ask?”
"Oh, I know another hunter who rides a bike; she's awful protective of it too. It even has its own room." Sorrow took out a crystal from his pocket and flicked it into the shadows of an alcove. "Are you new in town?"
Reah watched curiously as he suddenly decided to flick a perfectly good crystal away. *Must be some strange form of male territorial thing.* She shrugged, grinning flatly. “Not really…aww…nah. Not really. Been here a good six months now I think. But I’ll tell you, I’ve run into that many vampire hunters it’s not funny!” She gestured to Sorrow. “You’d have to be the…well, the third…I think. But still. That’s more than I’ve ever run into in my entire life!”
"L.A. seems to attract us, may be it's the sun? Who were the others? I might know them."
Reah chuckled lightly at that. Sorrow was surprisingly helpful in lightening her mood, however slight. “Well, the first is Jess… although, I think it’s not really her main profession. She just does it if she has too.” At Sorrow’s blank look, Reah took it as a no.
“The other’s Tash.”
"You know Tash?" Sorrow frowned. He didn't recall Tash mentioning another hunter but in all the recent craziness he may have forgotten. "Like I said she takes real good care of her bike... though considering where she lives it's not that strange."
“You mean Poplar, or L.A. in general?”
"Poplar. It's not the nicest area especially once you take into account its more nocturnal inhabitants."
“I guess.” Reah considered what he’d said. “But it beats most of the other places I’ve lived in. In case you haven’t guessed already I live there too now. Having the nocturnal life so close just means I don’t have to travel far to my night job.”
"Your night job? This isn't the sort of thing you play at..."
“Hm? No, I only do this at night,” she said looking slightly confused at what exactly he was getting at. “During the day I’m now the proud…” She made a face. “…owner of the Armoury.”
"Hmmm well don't let it eat too badly into your time. Look, I have stuff I need to do tonight. Shall we move on?"
“We shall.” Reah kicked up her bike. “Feet or wheels?”
"Wheels."
********
Xavier watched as Sorrow slipped behind the woman and they rode off. He shrugged; the sword appearing out of nowhere had been a worry but he’d lost it pretty quickly. Had it not been for the girl Sorrow’d have been sucked dry. *Not so tough as you think you are.* Xavier turned to walk back to the van. He’d grab some sleep and maybe a shower and start again tomorrow morning.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
*****Saturday 11:00 PM *****
If sitting in a small van with two vampires and one big smelly rhino demon wasn’t bad enough, having two large bags of explosives bouncing around the floor might make someone nervous. But Bunniko seemed quite calm just sitting there, twirling her guns like an old time dime store cowboy.
“Do you mind not doing that?” asked Samuel, one of the two vampires.
“Why? Are you afraid that it might go off? It can’t kill you,” smiled Bunniko.
“Ya, but it’ll hurt like hell.”
Bruno yelled from the drive seat, “Knock it off back there or I’ll pull this van over!”
“Yes dad. Are we there yet?” Bunniko playfully hollered back.
“If you ask me that for the next 20 minutes I will shoot you myself.”
***** 21 minutes later*****
“Are we there yet?”
Bruno growled, “Yes we are.”
“Ok you all know the plan. Stick to it and this will all be over quickly,” barked Bruno as he grabbed one of the bags of explosives.
The team quickly moved over to the Armoury door and Bruno pulled the locked door right off its mounts. Bunniko bolted through the door quicker then the rest of the group. Therein she found her target. The young Reanna "Reah" Kossinton. Without a word and before Reah could react Bunniko opened fire. Bunniko emptied her Twin Socom pistols into the face and chest of her poor victim. Reah’s now mutilated corpse quickly fell to the floor with a dull thud.
“Damn girl. You were supposed to kill her, not mangle her.”
“Well she’s dead isn’t she?” Bunniko said, reloading her guns. “I guess my part’s done; I’ll be in the car.”
“Hold your bunny tail, fur ball. You help me set these up in here. You two take the stockroom.”
Bruno muscled through the security door and stared at the space beyond. "Goddamn!" he hollered, "This place is a lot bigger than it looks from outside." He pointed at a shelving unit with ammo boxes on it. "Start there."
He strolled up and down the nearly empty shelves. "Guess business sucks. Good for us." He picked up a mini gun and checked it for heft. "I hear they are having a 100% off sale today only!" He laughed stupidly at his own joke.
The others started to laugh in response and Bruno shouted at them, "Don't laugh... work! Dumasses..."
Bruno walked past Samuel who was starting to set the charges. He bent down and looked at his work, then as the vampire was wiring the detonator Bruno suddenly spouted, "Boom!"
Samuel jumped and Bruno stood up laughing, "Whassamatter, boys? You have to love your work!"
Bruno strolled past the C4 charges that the vampire had been affixing to the electrical main. He squinted at it from close range than clapped the vampire on the back. “Good work! You’re done, so head back to the van. You too, slowpoke! I’ll finish it - you head outside."
Bruno walked back to the front of the storeroom where Bunniko was standing. A few steps from her he stopped and cocked his head to one side as if in thought. He turned around and headed back to investigate something that just wasn't right...
**** 2 minutes later ****
Bunniko and Bruno ran out the door like bats out of hell and Bruno yelled, “Get in the van now! GO! GO! GO!” Bunniko hopped in the back and slammed the door as the whole van shook from the explosion. Bruno revved the motor and took off down the street.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
“Recollections of a Conspirator, Part II”
Previously on LA By Night:
· Kate and Galen break up over his hiding of Majestic 12 from her
· Galen suffers an emotion breakdown from the guilt of his job in Kate’s place
· Galen orders the framing of a conspiracy theorist for murder
· Galen remembers his first love, Cassandra: the romance, the things they had to do in the name of “national security”
Galen’s Apartment
Sunday, 28 August 2005
4:36am
For over an hour sleep refused to come.
Galen eventually went back to the whiskey, wondering why he put it in the fridge. It might ruin the taste, but he didn’t care at this point. On the small table next to his chair the whiskey sat next to the gun and the ash tray. Sleep seemed a distant memory, something other people did.
Normal people.
He missed both of them so much it hurt. Both women he’d loved had been lost in some way or another to Majestic 12; the one to death in its service, the other in an attempt to keep her safe from it. Cassandra. Kate. Twice in love, and still in love, if the truth were told.
Memories continued to come to his mind steadily. Cassandra, Kate, the things he had done in the name of “National Security” – everything which had brought him to this point.
Everything which made him lose her....
Kate....
Kate’s House
13 August 2005 – 11:00pm
Galen lay patiently on the floor, his back against the end of the couch while he waited for Kate to return. He forced himself to concentrate and focus on the noises coming from the kitchen next door in an effort to take his mind off the inordinate amount of pain that he was in. A small flash of light followed by a slight trail of green smoke signalled Kate’s return. In her hands she carried a small bowl containing what looked like a dark green paste, which she placed on the coffee table as she knelt down by Galen’s side.
“How you doing?” she asked, her eyes betraying just how worried she was about him. Before Galen could reply she had already begun removing the charred and bloody remains of his pants. Galen uttered a small cry of pain to which Kate quietly kissed him, smoothing back his hair soothingly.
“I’ve been better,” Galen said as Kate drew back and resumed her task. He was still feeling the pain in his legs but was trying to put on a brave face for Kate. He didn’t want her to know how much it hurt, since that would only worry her. For a moment his head swam and rocked back and forth. “Remind me not to do anything quite that foolish again.”
Kate was silent for a moment as she slowly stirred the thick mixture. When she spoke her voice was sad and regretful. “Sometimes I think it’s me… people get too close to me and they get hurt.” Kate looked away again as she carefully applied the warm mixture to Galen’s burned flesh.
Galen winced in pain, trying desperately to make sure no more than a sharp intake of breath escape from him. “No, no, it’s not you,” he said in between applications, then switched to his best Humphrey Bogart voice. “It’s this crazy, mixed-up world we live in that does it. It just takes sadistic pleasure in tormenting lovely English women living in LA.”
Kate looked up, her expression warming as she looked into Galen’s reassuring eyes. For a long moment she lost herself in those warm, caring eyes and then she smiled, and returned to her gentle attendance.
Galen did his best to blot out the pain, but for one moment, all of it vanished. The pain didn’t matter; Majestic didn’t matter. Nothing did, except her, when she smiled. It was a moment of peace, when he realised a simple truth: he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, to make her happy, help her through the bad times as well as the good. Their eyes met again as she finished.
“Kate, I love you,” he said softly. “More than anything else in the world.”
Galen's Apartment
24 August 2005 - 6:00pm
Politics, bureaucracy, mismanagement. All three words struck Galen as being thoroughly interchangeable, especially after the day’s work. Feeling exhausted as he climbed the stairs to the apartment, he smiled as he opened the door. Kate had said she wanted to do something for him, so would be staying there, but he didn’t exactly know what. The smells from the kitchen gave it away. *Uh oh.*
Galen hurried to the kitchen to find Kate cooking what looked like lasagne. “Hi, honey,” he said, happy to see her again and at the thought behind her ‘surprise’ rather than the likely results. “I didn’t come home at a bad time, did I?” he teased.
Kate coughed as a cloud of black smoke escaped from the kitchen. She quickly opened a window and pulled the charred remains of a lasagne out of the oven. "There is something wrong with your oven," she announced as Galen appeared in the kitchen. She haphazardly brushed her hair out of her face, leaving a black smudge of charcoal across her cheek.
"I followed the instructions exactly. I don't know what happened! Why is it I can make up any spell without a hitch, but ask me to boil water and I almost burn the house down!?"
“You aren’t that bad in the kitchen,” Galen replied, smiling at Kate as he moved to stand next to her by the counter. He leaned against it on one elbow as he talked. “The stuff you make is good, it’s just that the technology hasn’t caught up to your methods yet.” The grin turned mischievous. “And besides, isn’t that the cutest charcoal smudge?”
"What?" said Kate in confusion, then glanced at her reflection in the shiny surface of a saucepan. "Oh!" she exclaimed in surprise, smiling slightly as she wiped at the smudge. "But I wanted everything to be perfect, you've been working so hard lately..."
“But everything is perfect,” insisted Galen, one hand coming to rest on her back and rubbing gently. “I get to go through a nice, bureaucratic hell... then come home to you. If that isn’t worth it, what is?”
Galen pulled her into a close embrace and kissed her earnestly. When he pulled away Kate was breathless. "Well that was certainly perfect," she smiled happily, still breathless from Galen's intense passion. "I take it you had a bad day then?" she asked in an attempt to regain her composure.
“Much better now that I’m with you, but yes,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. He hated having to mix the lies with the truth, but his position left little alternative. There was no way of knowing at the time the attempt to protect her would drive her away. “We had so much stuff go wrong, even Henry did not get a chance for his usual clowning. We’re up to our neck in an apparent serial killer in the area, which the media fortunately hasn’t gotten hold of. Then we found out one of the new agents has been misfiling reports for the past six months and nobody noticed….”
"Oh my god," said Kate in shock. "No wonder you've been kind of distant lately," Kate gently stroked Galen's cheek with the edge of her thumb. "You should have told me. You don't have to go through something like this alone. You don't have to go through any of this alone, that's why I'm here."
Galen’s Apartment
Sunday, 28 August 2005
5:49am
Over two hours.
That was how long it had lasted. Galen gave up on the whiskey after the second glass. It wasn’t doing it for him. Three cigarettes lined the ashtray, all new additions. All he could think about was the two of them; how much he missed them, how much he ached to be with both of them.
He felt tired but not sleepy. The loneliness of the bed kept from moving. Realisations hit him, along with the memories. It would not be just a bad dream. When he shut his eyes and opened them again, he wouldn’t still be with Kate. Or even Cassandra.
Times had been so much simpler a year before, despite attempting to juggle plans for a wedding when at any given time it could be held, half the guests would be doing the cloak and dagger routine. As the thought came he felt bad, as though he were being disloyal to Kate. Galen wanted her back, wanted to be with Kate, to protect her. He had to let her know about the newest crisis.
His legs were encased in stone, his arms cinderblocks refusing to move. The attempt to move at last expended the last of his energy.
Sleep finally came....
[Editor's synopsis: Galen continues to remember events from his past, falling deeper into depression. This time, his thoughts turn to Kate.]
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Jade’s Apartment
Saturday, 27th August 2005
5:30pm
Kate had slept so long, and still she continued to do so as life passed her by.
Life.
Life was too cruel to allow her to love again so easily. There had to be something else to shatter the illusion of harmony, to break the happiness she’d felt with Galen in two. Of course maybe none of that had really happened, falling in love so soon after losing Lucien, a wonderful man, the most amazing man she had ever known until…
Kate’s eyelids fluttered open momentarily and the surrounding darkness flooded in and settled there. The room was empty, the heavy curtains drawn tightly across the window. Kate rolled over and pulled the blankets up under her chin, wrapping herself cocoon like in their warmth. Her eyelids slowly closed again…
*****
Galen took her hand gently, holding her back. He rose to his feet also. Kate remembered every detail of that night at Asylum. The throng of bodies moving to the music, the lukewarm drinks, the sweltering heat.
“Just one thing,” said Galen softly. Kate frowned. She still looked confused and slightly hurt. Galen tenderly brushed his hand against her cheek, “I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t…” he drew his thumb against her lips, “…just once…”
Galen gazed contemplatively at her mouth and then leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. Kate retreated slightly in surprise, closing her eyes as she received his kiss. Softly Galen left his fingers caress her cheek as he drew her in closer. Their nervous lips merged into one, their light breath playing across their mouths. Kate placed her hand against his shoulder and hesitated, as Galen’s kiss became more anxious and searching. Her hand slipped up and stroked the back of his neck, pulling him into an intimate closeness as their bodies brushed against one another and she kissed him back, yielding herself up to the passion of the moment. Time seemed to stand still. The eagerness of the embrace slowly melting to a close, they pulled apart breathlessly.
Daye had to smother a grin at Kate's outburst. It was good to see her full of fire. Despair did not suit her friend very well. "I said, Galen loves you," Daye replied a bit smugly. "Don't you think you should go back to him and give him a chance? Or do you think a person should wallow and mourn for all eternity? I mean, am I making a mistake being with Drew? I loved once and lost. Maybe, by your count, that's all the happiness I'm entitled to."
Kate frowned again in confusion, “just wait a minute. W-when did you speak to Galen, and, and how… I mean… He told you he loved me?” Kate couldn’t believe what she was hearing; she’d been trying for months to try and put her feelings for Galen out of her head, convinced he would have long forgotten about her, now here Daye was, saying things she’d scarcely allowed herself to hope for.
“Galen…” the words fell out of Kate’s mouth like a prayer. She remembered how he still looked as handsome as ever, standing there in the FBI building. She’d never felt so small and insignificant, seeing Galen again after all those months had made her feel… indescribable.
As he took her hand in his, drawing her closer into his arms she felt a warmth flood her inside. There was so much she wanted to say but she found the words had completely deserted her.
*******
Jade had left over an hour ago, and ever since Kate had returned to her solitary ‘mourning’. She hated herself for behaving like this but a part of her felt like something had died, and maybe it had. She felt dead inside.
Kate rolled around restlessly. The bed was too big for one person and its emptiness was magnified by the loss she felt. Kate opened her eyes again, staring at the ceiling as tears flowed freely down her cheeks on to the pillow. Now the memories had begun she couldn’t stop them…
Their first date at Maxims, how they’d danced and almost made love that night.
"I can't talk about much of what I do without jeopardising my security clearance. All I can tell you is what you already know, that my work involves the occult. Please, Catherine, try to understand." ------------------ "Emergency back at the office, I'm sorry. You know the way the government is, always having to mess everything up.” ---------- "I’ll be there as soon as I can, I just have to take care of something at work real quick."
Of course with hindsight it was all so clear, how he had been keeping things from her, the lies… she had even suspected as much on numerous occasions, then why was it such a big surprise when she finally heard the truth from his own lips?
Love.
And she was love’s fool. She still was, she still loved him and probably would for… maybe they could work something out, perhaps it didn’t have to end this way.
Kate sat up in bed and wiped at her damp eyes. Maybe it didn’t have to end like this. After all, she hadn’t really given Galen a chance to explain everything. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as she was imagining. He had lied, yes, and deceived her, but what if he had been telling the truth about just wanting to protect her?
Yes, she would go and see him… but not like this.
Kate wandered into the bathroom, thankful that she had the apartment to herself. The last thing she wanted was for Jade to see her wallowing in self-pity like this. Running some water into the basin Kate rubbed at the tear stains on her face.
Things could change, they could get better. As Kate patted her face dry she suddenly felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She wobbled slightly, leaning against the vanity unit for support. In a moment the feeling seemed to pass. Kate breathed deeply and then sank to her knees by the toilet bowl and threw up.
Tiredly she rested against the bathtub; the cold floor tiles felt good next to her skin. Maybe she would just take a while to get cleaned up first.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
***** Saturday 11:25 PM *****
Bruno passed one of the few stocked shelves. Wooden crates proclaimed the munitions inside were dangerous. Bruno punched a meaty fist into the side of one. He pulled out a fistful of sawdust and straw. Angered he flung off that crate and smashed another one with much the same result.
"Goddamit! I knew it was wrong. All wrong. No smell of gun oil.!" The rage in his beady eyes was visible from across the room.
Bruno pushed the entire shelf over and it leaned against its neighbor. "Well it'll burn just fine. But Paul will have to hear about this. I bet the bitch moved the stock someplace else. In fact, I bet she ain't even dead! Some kind of spell or sumpin'. You, Bunny! Go grab that cadaver and we’ll take it back to the Witches."
Bruno looked at Bunniko. She was holstering her guns and kind of smiling mischievously. “It was you, wasn’t it?” Bruno’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Bunniko. "What are you up to?”
Bunniko drew her knife. “You won’t be around long enough to care.”
“I’ve been waiting for this,” Bruno said as he charged at Bunniko head down and horn poised. ”I'm going to gut you, fur-ball!”
Bunniko took two small steps toward him and leaped over the charging rhino-man, placing her free hand on the back of Bruno’s neck as she jumped and pushing him to the floor. The disoriented demon was slowly beginning to move after hitting head first on the concrete floor when he felt it - the sharp pain of Bunniok’s blade as it pierced the back of both his knees. She had apparently landed just behind him in a low squatting position. Bruno quickly tried to grab the bunny girl but she back flipped out of the hobbled man's reach.
“You stupid bitch! How are you going to explain to Paul what happen to me? Ha!”
“That won’t be a problem. Jimmy! We are leaving.” Bunniko picked up one of the C4 charges.
Reah’s body began to steam as if it were evaporating. The smoke gathered beside Bunniko as a large man shape began to form. This shape slowly formed into a rhino demon. It was Bruno! In every way he was the same. Even his voice sounded exactly like Bruno. “I guess it's plan B then?”
Bunniko played with the detonator. “Thirty seconds should be good.” She tossed the C4 in to an open box and ran toward the door.
Bruno began to yell for help, hoping the guys by the van would hear, but Jimmy started yelling too. “Get in the van now! GO! GO! GO!” as Bunniko and Jimmy in the guise of Bruno ran to the van.
*****Sunday 28th August 2005… 1:05 am*****
Alice stood there watching the Armoury slowly smoke into ash. "It didn’t take long for the Police and firemen to leave. Well they didn’t have a lot to do really I guess. It wasn’t a big fire anyway; more of a explosion.”
Just then a car pulled up beside Alice’s car in the parking lot. “What kept you Jimmy?” Alice walked over to the young red haired man.
"I had to remember where I left her.”
Alice walked over to the trunk and held up her hand. “Keys?”
Jimmy tossed his car keys to her. "Before you let her out there is something you need to know. She had some stakes and holy water in her bag.”
“Really? And I thought our little Reah was just some intelligent eye candy for Joe,” Alice smiled as she opened the trunk.
*****Sunday 28th August, 2005…1:00 am*****
Reah opened her eyes groggily to the sound of a gentle hum vibrating through the floor. “Whaaa?” The room jerked slightly as the hum slowed then sped up again. “What the?” Alarmed, she suddenly tried straightening and sitting up but her legs hit a wall and she hit her head on an extremely low ceiling barely thirty centimetres above her, and her arms seemed bound behind her when she tried to use them to break her fall as she thudded back to the hard ground.
She listened harder; she could hear an engine running, gears shifting and it sped up again. “Ah shit.” *Am I in a car boot? What the hell happened?* Last she remembered was splitting up from Sorrow and hiding her bike to gang up on some vampires from different angles to dust them. “…aaand now I’m in a boot…shit!”
Desperately she wriggled her hands trying to free them. *Knife!* She tried bending her hands and legs closer together so she could reach her lucky dagger strapped to her boot and found one leg came with the other. *Great! They’re bound too.* She couldn’t quite reach her boot from her position and the left arm beneath her body that haltered her right. “Crap, this is going to hurt!” She wriggled closer to the wall and slammed her left shoulder into it till she heard and felt that shooting pain as her left arm dislocated. *Aahoow…. Better!*
She gritted her teeth against the pain in a strained effort to keep from yelling out. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she reached back again, this time managing to grip the dagger strapped in place and pulled it out.
The car's brakes suddenly screeched to a gentle stop and she heard voices talking.
Hurriedly she worked on the bonds on her hands, breaking free of them without much trouble with the dagger and then went to work on her legs. They snapped nearly with as little effort as an outward slash.
The voices got louder as she heard them approaching the boot and a peculiar smell hit Reah’s nose. *Smells like burning wood! What the hell is happening?* She screamed mentally in frustration.
She lay there waiting and ready.
The trunk opened to reveal Alice looking most concerned. She yelled at someone, "What do mean, she’s in the trunk?”
Reah darted out with her right arm, dagger in hand at her throat on the instant the boot opened. Not to kill intentionally. She couldn’t kill a human unless the situation really called for it, and even then... Alice quickly grabbed her wrist in mid-flight before Reah even noticed her make the move. The glare of sudden light coming from somewhere made seeing slightly difficult.
The pain in her left arm throbbed menacingly and she winced as it shot out through her entire upper body. She didn’t struggle her wrist from Alice’s grip, instead she gritted her teeth against the pain, discomfort and annoyance, and just glared at her.
“What the hell is going on?” she snarled, strands of hair slicked against her face.
“Jimmy, what did you do? Break her arm? I’m going to kick your ass.” Alice turned to her friend and let go of Reah’s hand. “Are you ok hun? I’m sorry about this but I didn’t want to see you get killed,” Alice said looking concerned. "Get over here and help her."
"Sorry about my friend's crude plan to save you. He gets a bit insensitive sometimes.”
Reah lowered her arm warily and darted a quick glance at Jimmy who just came into view. He had shortish red hair slicked back, his face accentuated by defining cheek bones and jaw line, and he had a lean muscular build. *Not bad! I’d go for him if he hadn’t shoved me in a boot!*
She shot her gaze back at Alice as he moved closer to help her out. He grasped her left arm lightly and sent another shot of pain through her body. Reah screamed in anguish and shoved him out of the way with her fist still clutching her dagger then helped herself out.
“He didn’t break my arm…” She snapped it back into place and kept her face unmoving beyond gritting her teeth slightly. *FUUUUUCK!* The task was not a breeze she loved to do. “…I dislocated it myself in the friggen boot!” She glared at Jimmy, then back to Alice. “Now what the hell do you mean; ‘didn’t want to see me get killed’?”
“Have you ever heard the name Paul Nesmith? He is a big time thug and drug dealer. I have someone working her way up in his organisation. She warned me about the raid on the Armoury. He sent her and some goons to kill you.“
Paul. Reah shuddered. “Nesmith. That’s his last name? Does he by any chance work in the Beazor or something, whatever it’s called?”
"Some place called Narcosis too. Joe was feeding me info about him but he had to go on the run there. What can you tell me about him?
“Nothing much at the moment other than he likes to shoot people in the arm.” Reah glared far into the distance as though she could see him amidst the city. “Ask me in a couple of hours or so and I might be able to tell you more.” She paused. “Like the texture of his bloodied corpse once I’m finished with him.”
Reah moved to stalk off when she caught a glimpse of a fire still burning some building that looked vaguely familiar in a rubble and ash sense. “What is…?” she trailed off staring at the burning warehouse.
“Well I have bad news and good news. The bad news is my friend had to help destroy the Armoury there," Alice said, pointing at the pile of burning building. “But the good news is we did move all of your stock and things to a safer location. I need you to stay away from him for the safety of my friend. She needs some time still to get close to him. Then we will take him down.”
Reah studied Alice for a moment before replying. “Who’s your friend? I’ll make sure not to kill them.” *Can I even kill Paul? He’s human.*
“No hun, I can’t let you do that. He is too well protected right now. Anyway from her last report he isn’t even in the city right now. He has “things” working for him - too powerful for you alone.”
Reah stood there stiffly. Was she supposed to just sit and wait now? She sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll wait. Excuse me, I need to go home, rest my relocated arm and gather myself after being shoved in a boot.” She glared again at Jimmy and locked her gaze as she stalked off, shoving past him with her right arm.
*What Alice doesn’t know can’t hurt her,* she smirked cunningly as she continued off down the road.
“Should I follow her?” asked Jimmy.
“No, I know where she’s going. We just need to get there before her.” Alice gave Jimmy his keys. “I’ll meet you at Narcosis.”
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
***Sunday 28th August, 2005…1:51am***
Reah stormed into the bar, slamming the door in her wake and stalked straight up to Bob who was alarmed by the sudden entry, reached straight over the bar grabbing his collar and jerked his smelly features closer to her scornful face and held him there.
All attention in the bar was now on the pair.
After a moment Reah’s face brightened and she smiled cheerfully, in superior contrast to how she really felt. "Hi Bob!" She savagely let him go, dropping him back down and he stepped back defensively from the counter rubbing his neck. Reah grinned immensely.
"Whad’ya want?" he croaked, exercising his throat muscles.
"Oh, you know! I thought I’d just stop by for a drink." She leaned against the bar before thinking better of it and pulling herself back.
"You?" He raised an eyebrow speculatively.
Heads began slowly turning back to their drinks seeing that a fight was not about to break out and entertain their dreary existences.
"Nah, can’t fool you can I?" He stepped back further as she reached to severely scruff his lack of hair.
A blast of air came as someone new entered the bar, then rounded off as the door closed behind them. Reah paid no attention to the newcomers; they were just someone else to add to the stuffy dankness of the air.
Lowering her voice she leaned closer, mindful not to touch the bench. Out of habit Bob leaned in closer to hear. "Tell me where the Beazor is."
Bob laughed low and made careful adjustments to his position to get out of her reach. Reah raised an eyebrow quizzically and demanding.
"I don’t know anythin’ about any Beazor Complex."
Reah’s smile was detached. "I didn’t say Complex."
Bob’s adams apple bobbed drastically. "It sounded like one."
"Bullshit, Bob!" Reah hissed. "I know you know what I’m talking about. You know what bloody detergent Tom Cruise has to use to get those damn skid-marks out of his underwear!"she spat. "Now tell me!"
"Nice try. But it’s not worth my life."
"There are things much worse than death." Reah gave him a judgemental look. "And what life?"
Bob scowled and Reah matched his gaze till he looked away.
A couple of girls that looked late teens, early twenties perched themselves on some stools further down the bar. Bob stalked away from Reah to attend them.
"What can I get ya?" Reah heard the distant muffled voices of Bob and the girls.
"Got any blood?" one of the girls asked casually. Out of habit Reah turned her head to regard the one who had spoken with a frown. The other girl was shaking her head ruefully at her friend.
"Yeah."
The two girls exchanged curious glances at that. Obviously it was supposed to be a joke.
"Ahh… nah. We’re fine."
Bob eyed each of them suspiciously before returning back to Reah, muttering something about "twats" on the way. The girl who’d asked for blood jumped up defensively somehow hearing what he’d said from the opposite end of the bar before her friend grasped her shoulder to pull her forcefully back down and spoke harsh words Reah couldn’t hear, all the while the girl continued to glare knives into Bob’s back.
Bob slapped his hands back down on the bench in front of Reah, staring blankly at her mirroring features before he started up again, resuming his low whisper. "So why are ya askin’ about the Beazor Complex anyway?"
"I have some business with a mister Paul Nesmith and I don’t mean to postpone it any longer," she replied levelly.
Something seemed to spark in Bob. *Was that a smirk that flashed across his face?* She regarded him in complete disgust, although she guessed it may have been for another reason; like he’d seen a way to get rid of her. She just didn’t think he was at the same level as her to wish death on her.
"He actually has an office at Narcosis too. Have ya heard of that place?"
Reah waited impatiently for him to continue giving him a look that promised blunt, rusted knives if he didn’t.
"Here." He scribbled an address on the back of a coaster, and dropped it, Reah assumed quite deliberately, in a small puddle of something on the bench immediately absorbing it. He flashed a toothy grin that didn’t touch his eyes. "It’s the only one I’m writin’. Damn hand and its spasms has cramped up on me." He pouted. Something that a man like him should never be allowed to do.
Reah felt like throwing up. Instead she carefully picked up the sodden coaster by the tip and hooked the pouting weed with her left arm. A drunken cheer rose from a couple of the occupied tables.
Reah spun on her heel and stalked back out the door in much the same fashion as she’d entered, only this time she held a sodden coaster at arm's length of herself and didn’t notice the pile of dust in her path that wasn’t there when she’d first entered. She kicked it up in a cloud that spoofed ahead of her and clung to her pants and lingering coat as she strolled carelessly through it.
******
My. What an interesting person with short-cropped, light-golden brown hair.
He stood and approached the barkeep. He left behind him his empty martini on a table of martini glasses.
"Hello Bob," he said.
Bob didn’t seem at all happy, almost like a great trouble were approaching him. But when Harv paused a step to glance over a shoulder, Harv certainly saw no cause for alarm. Bob must have been tired tonight. It was near closing time, after all.
Harv place his hands on the spot where his good friend Bob had plopped the girl's coaster. "Pardon me, Bob."
"You want another?"
Harv widened his smile. "Another martini would be lovely," he said. "But that’s not what I wanted to ask. But thank you, thank you, very thoughtful."
"I thought you didn’t drink," Bob said. "People who don’t drink shouldn’t drink five martinis."
"Six," Harv said. "Six martinis I've had tonight. Almost nothing. Make it seven." He took a seat on the stool, a very comfortable stool.
"Jesus, Sam, playing games again?"
"That’s funny." Harv touched his face in bemusement. "That’s the second time I’ve been mistaken recently. ‘Sam,’ you say? The first time it was someone named Lenny. You, uh, haven’t seen anyone by the name of Lenny in here tonight, have you, Bob? I know two young men who are desperate to find him. They were wrestling over him, as a matter of fact. Two lovely boys, those Hansons."
Harv wondered if Bob had ever heard of Hanson. He raised a finger to ask him, but Bob:
"For the—what day is it?—third time, no. This is why you should stick to cranberry juice, Sammy boy. You can’t handle alocohol." Bob leaned in. "And, for the record, yours is the absofuckinglutely worst Jimmy Stewart impression I’ve ever heard. Unless it's Mae West you're trying to do. In which case, you still suck."
Harv nodded. Funny fellow, this Bob. Very wonderful man, though. Always tells it like it is. Harv appreciated blunt honesty. "In that case," he said, "have you seen my other friend?"
"Who? Who?" Bob seemed tense, the poor man. "Who, Alice? The purple rabbit? Or is it Mother Mariah this time? I haven’t seen anybody you’re looking for because they don’t exist!"
"Oh. Oh, they exist, all right. They exist. I’d love for you to meet them, each and every one of their quite extraordinary facial manifestations. They would love you--"
"God, no--"
"Love you to pieces." Harv closed his mouth so that he was merely smiling. He would have enjoyed another taste of gin, just then. He twirled a finger at his bartender, just to push things along.
Bob bent down and began washing a martini glass. Harv wondered if it was meant for him. Sometimes—bless his heart—you had to remind Bob of what you ordered. He had a soft spot for the ladies and could therein easily forget. Why, there were a couple of teen-aged ladies now, sitting just a few seats down along the bar. Harv tipped his hat to them.
"So," he said to Bob, "tell me, now. Who was that absolutely lovely young lady you were talking to? Just a minute ago."
Bob took the time to place both closed hands on the table and sink into his shoulders, a routine which always made Harv smile: the man looked like a bonobo ape. Bob said, "You mean your roommate?"
"No, no. My roommate, you see, is Alice. I live with Alice. She’s a rabbit, you know. A phooka."
"What’s a pooooka?"
"A phooka. Well that’s a question right there, is it not? A phooka. Do you know that a phooka is often mistaken for a hobgoblin? But it’s not. No, no, a phooka is actually a pleasant fellow. He’s a spirt, you see. A spirit. Often an animal spirit."
"I," Bob said, "do not care."
"Don't care about Phookas? I find that hard to beleive. They're wonderful people. Like angels."
"Angels, demons, what's the difference? Like I said, I don't care."
"Gosh, I’m glad you told me, Bob. Or else I could have just rambled on and on and on..."
"Glad you didn’t--"
"Until I bored us both."
"Didn’t you have a question?"
"Oh yes, that girl."
"You mean Reah Kossington?"
"Yes. What did you write down? Write down for her right here, this Reah gal..." Harv tapped the puddle of liquor on the counter. "You wrote something for her."
"None of your business, Sam."
"My name isn’t Sam. It’s Mr. Dowd." It was so cute how he had to keep reminding Bob of this fact. In fact, Harv had something very cute to give Bob in return. It was quite inexplicable, sort of a buzz in his brain as he said it, but quite pleasant, all the same, like the massaging effect of a Motel 6 bed after you drop a quarter in the box. "You want to give me that address, Bob. Right about now."
Bob managed to bend his neck like a vulture. "Make me."
"Oh, I wouldn’t presume to make you, Bob. I’d only suggest it."--NOW Bob got his present. "As I am suggesting now. Please, Mr. Wedge, won’t you be so kind?"
Bob shook his head and said, "But it’s not even her address. It’s to Narcosis."
Harv stood, the stool sqeaking under him. He reached inside his dressy jacket and pulled out a pen. He said, "That will do just fine. Fine."
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
***Sunday 28th August, 2005…2:04am***
"I like her!"
"She’s a bit rash."
"I like her!"
Sea-Doc regarded Meh who was grinning stupidly. "She just hit that guy in the face for no good reason!"
"I saw plenty of good reason," Meh rebutted.
"Of course you would, he called you a twat."
"He called you a twat too."
Sea-Doc shivered with irritation at Meh’s constant annoyance. "He may have." She calmed herself. "But I don’t let things like that bother me, so he may as well not have." *Why, oh, why did she have to be the only 'human' of the lot of us!*
Meh glanced at her sidelong then continued watching the figure they were following who’d just turned down an alleyway. *She’s getting something….* She watched the girl's astral signature behind the wall and listened. She picked up a faint crunching on concrete that she could apply to something she knew well to make that sound. *…a bike.* Meh then casually glanced along the sparse parked cars for an appealing candidate.
"And why did you kill that vampire? I told you not to kill anything! Do you realise the consequences that could rouse?"
"Well firstly," Meh began and smiled as she spotted a nice vintage BMW. "I told him I would and I don’t like to break promises." She flashed Sea-Doc a grin.
"When it appeals to you," she sniffed.
"Besides, he was wasting our time by taking as long as he could to get to the place." She continued, "How long did he have us following him?"
Sea-Doc shook her head, exasperated.
Meh chuckled. "Actually, I think he was trying to find a way to escape and that’s why he took forever to reach the place. Not that he did really. I spotted the flashing sign up the street." She grinned, then sneered in a lowered voice. "He’d probably still be leading us around now if I hadn’t spotted it." *The fucker. Wish I had killed him sooner, probably would have found the place earlier that way. Now my feet hurt.*
"Secondly, he was that much of a pathetic...something that I doubt killing him is going to make such a huge impact on whatever."
"Are you done?"
"No, but to finish; he deserved it!" *Has to have been lying too. Vampires don’t go poof when you kill ‘em.* A stricken look crossed her face. *Do they?*
Sea-Doc shook her head again just before they both heard the revving of an engine come from the alley the girl had disappeared into, then suddenly the same girl came tearing out into the street leaving tread marks in her wake.
Meh sighed, *I miss my bike!* Then snickered at the memory of Aral trying to stop hers without much success and slamming into a solid brick wall. That was just before they both had to ditch their bikes to escape Lonestar. She sighed.
Meh and Sea-Doc casually stood by the BMW and watched the girl disappear up the road.
Meh started counting.
"Great. What now?" Sea-Doc asked watching Meh watch the fading girl.
Meh smiled absently. "You're leaning on it."
Sea-Doc stood up and turned about to look at the car, then back to Meh. "No," she said simply.
"Aw, c’mon Sea-Doc! Quit being so moral." She strolled over to the driver's side door.
"I said ‘no’ Meh. I’m in charge of this Run!"
Meh’s elbow raised in defiance and she winked at Sea-Doc before smashing in the car's window.
A piercing alarm sounded up.
"Fuck!" they echoed each other.
"They have alarms!?" Meh sounded surprised.
Sea-Doc pushed Meh out of her way and reached past her to slide her arm through the smashed window into the car unlocking the door and flinging it open. She jumped into the seat and fiddled with the wires underneath before picking one that seemed to make sense with vague familiarity, and cut it.
The alarm died.
She slacked back in the leather seat and sighed heavily in relief, then shot an accusing stare at Meh who grinned deviously. "Oops!"
Sea-Doc pressed her eyes closed and tried to remind herself that Meh was just an extremely good exercise that helped her practise calm for when she was in surgery under difficult circumstances.
"Shove over." Meh prodded her in the side to move. "I’m driving."
"Oh no you’re not! I’ve seen you drive a truck, there’s no way you’re driving a car!" Sea-Doc warned. "Especially while I’m in it." She leaned over and opened up the other door.
*Well it has to be easier than a truck!* Meh mentally grumbled to herself as she made her way around the car before plonking herself down in the passenger seat and slamming the door shut. "’A’, that was that bastard evil pimp guy's truck. I was merely disabling it." Sea-Doc sniffed and shook her head as she worked out how to start the car, put it in drive then screeched out of the parking space after the bike. "And ‘B’," Meh continued, "it didn’t have reverse."
"Oh. So that’s why you crashed it into that solid brick wall." Sea-Doc commented sarcastically.
Meh regarded her in loathing. *Must she be such a bitch?*
She continued with directing her which ways to go, following the girl's lingering signature down the road.
A memory struck her to inform Elis. *Speaking of signatures...* "Hey Sea-Doc."
"What?"
"Left." The car swerved around the corner. "You do realise we’re being followed as well?"
Sea-Doc shrugged. "Doesn’t matter. I think we’ll lose them now."
The Pearl Of The Orient
Sunday, 28th August 2005 - 8.30pm, Hongkong
Millions of lights twinkled off the water's surface, turning the whole bay into a gorgeous shimmer of reds, blues and greens. The skyline of the harbour was a dizzy ensemble of styles, tastes, and ages - vast, showy skyscrapers, drab old tenement blocks, structures clad in gold or silver, massed slabs of concrete, red brick and steel. The sun had set an hour ago... A salty breeze, cool and refreshing, swept through the multitudes of people still thronging the streets, taking the edge off the humid heat of Hong Kong in August.
Harbour views of Hongkong
The woman standing along the harbour attracted a fair bit of attention - There was a translucent glow to her skin that contrasted attractively with her ebony hair that swung in soft waves around her shoulders. The short purple dress she wore showed off her shapely legs, the low neckline giving passerbys ample views of her cleavage.
A handsome Chinese man around the age of thirty five caught her eye. He beckoned her over and whispered provocatively in her ear, pressing a hotel room key into her hand before sauntering off in the direction of a 5-star establishment, his gait urbane and confident.
Her eyes glittered as she stared at his back, clad in what was undoubtedly an Armani jacket. So, he thought she was a prostitute, did he? *Well then... The bastard is about to find out just how good this whore is at sucking him dry.* Laughing at her little play on words, she palmed the key and slipped it into her tiny evening purse.
************************
Michael Yong was a successful businessman who'd been happily married to his childhood sweetheart for the last ten years. They'd met while the both of them were in college. It amused Michael to think back on how he'd been then - the gawky, shy, soft-spoken foreign student, fresh out of Hong Kong and totally bewildered by his new surroundings in the United States. Sharon had taken him under her wing, more or less, during their Orientation Week. They'd started dating about a year later and had been inseparable ever since.
Michael knew that many people had suspected (the old biddy that was his Mother-in-law topping the list) that he'd married Sharon solely to obtain a green card and stay in America after he'd graduated. That, however, wasn't true. Michael truly loved Sharon and he adored their two children. He was a good provider; his computer business had taken off and his family had all the material comforts they could ever want. All in all, Michael Yong was a pretty contented man. Except for one thing.
He missed Asian women.
Their lithe, slight figures... Their silky, black hair... Michael sighed as he thought about it, shifted slightly to ease the bulge in his pants. He did not view these indiscretions he had on his business trips to Asia as cheating on his wife. *Every man has a vice; mine just doesn’t happen to be cigarettes or alcohol.*
The soft knock on the door had him looking up, his eyes gleaming with aroused anticipation...
************************
About 45 minutes later – 9.15pm, Hongkong
Samantha smirked to herself as she walked out of the room, hardly caring that she’d left the door slightly ajar. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor echoed down the quiet corridor. *Lovely décor these luxury Hong Kong hotels. I still think that few people manage to do opulent better than the Asians. Excellent sound proofing too...* Sam giggled headily and started strolling towards the lift lobby, her hair and makeup immaculate, her expression serene.
The lift doors opened and a waiter pushing a room service trolley exited. Seeing her, he bowed politely and stood aside to let her pass. “Have a good evening Miss,” he said in his heavily accented English. Samantha smiled brilliantly at him and said, “Why, thank you. I’ve had a lovely one already.”
Deciding to indulge her baser desires, Sam lingered a while longer as she admired the waiter’s broad shoulders encased in a crisp cotton shirt. When he stopped outside Room 1708, she bit back a chuckle and slipped into the lift. Allowing herself a little secret thrill, Sam held on to the lift’s {DOOR OPEN} button and listened intently.
“Mr Yong? Room service... The strawberries and champagne you ordered?”
When the young man received no reply, he tried again, speaking the same words in Cantonese this time. There was a slight shuffling sound; Sam imagined that he was carefully pushing open the door. Relishing the thought of what the poor boy would find beyond, she released the pressure on the button and leaned back against the lift’s cool, gleaming panels.
”Lai yen ah! Giu ming ah!"
Sam’s knowledge of Cantonese was limited but she understood the desperate cry for help easily enough. Her lips curved up in a smile as the doors clanged shut, muffling the horrified shouts that vibrated down the quiet hotel floor...