Disclaimer: I don't own Holtz, I'm just borrowing him. Because no one
should be lonely on Christmas.
Holtz returned to the crypt in which he laired, discouraged. This time a year ago, at least by how long he had been awake, it would have been snowing. Here in the so-called city of agenls, he did not even need the coat the demon had provided for him.
The day had been discouraging enough. Even the most bloody minded survivor was at home, or something resembling it. It was the day before Christmas, a time to be spent with family and friends, or at the very least, alone. It looked as though the latter state would be the one he endured this Christmas. He thought wistfully, and with a sharp stab of pain, of the last Christmas he and Caroline had shared. Since then there had been nine Christmases alone, and this one would be more so than the last. He threw open the door to the crypt more forcefully than he thought he'd meant, stalked in and flopped into the chair.
It took him some moments to notice the envelope on the table near him, and a little while longer to muster up the energy to go and look at it. Most likely it was from the damned demon, wondering why he hadn't killed Angelus yet. The more Holtz worked for the demon, the more he disliked the creature, and yet it could not be gotten rid of as easily as he'd gotten rid of the henchmen. Not for the first time he cursed his lack of foresight for agreeing to the bargain. Still... there was time. There was always time. Holtz was a patient man. He could wait.
He picked up the envelope and turned it over in his hands. Excellently crafted, with his name in copper-plate script on the front. He turned it over; there was a picture of a rose. He frowned slightly. He knew that should mean something to him, but damned if he could figure out what. Shrugging, he broke the seal.
"The Lady Rose requests the pleasure of your company at her celebration on this Christmas eve. Please state your reply promptly upon receipt of this invitation."
He stared. This had to be magic. A celebration? And an invitation from someone of whom he knew nothing? But something about the rose was familiar...
"Yes...?" he found himself saying before he could think of whether or not it was a good idea. The invitation crisped in his hands, causing him to yelp, leap backwards, and stare at the charred spot on the ground where the remains of it lay. Out of the ashes swirled more black dust than should rightfully be left after the burning of a piece of paper. Slowly, they coalesced into a rose, which glowed faintly as it took on solid form, and another piece of paper.
"At 6 in the evening, walk through the door of your home with the rose. It will take you to the home of the Lady."
Holtz stared. It was quite probably near that time now. At least, it had been growing late in the afternoon when he'd returned. He looked from the rose to the doorway. Whatever happened, it had been magic, and it was most likely to involve magic when he walked through the doorway.
* * *
Instead of the street he had expected, full of its strange lights and rushing vehicles, he was in a lavishly yet tastefully appointed foyer, which led into an equally lavish and tasteful parlor. Behind him there was the sound of a clearing throat, and he whirled to face the person.
"If you will come this way, madam. The Lady prefers that all her guests be attired with equal splendour." It appeared to be a butler, or a majordomo of some sort.
"The Lady?" Holtz stared at him suspiciously. This was making him more and more edgy the more he stayed in this place.
"The Lady Rose, at whose invitation you are here," the man replied, unperturbed. "You recieved the invitation. You walked through the door holding the rose," he gestured down at the black-petaled rose which Holtz still held. He dropped it as though it had burned him. "You... are here at her invitation, are you not?"
"Of course he is, Geoffrey."
The woman who walked down the hall looked eerily familiar... and strikingly beautiful. Black hair cascaded in fashionable curls down her back and shoulders, over the equally fashionable pale blue dress that matched her eyes. Holtz actually found himself somewhat breathless at the sight of her, something that hadn't happened to him in something like fifteen years. She smiled slightly, nodding in a gesture that on her was the equivalent of a full, sweeping curtsey, and with that gesture his paranoia and caution was restored. He was reminded that he really didn't know anything about this woman, or this place in which he found himself, or, really what had happened. Already it seemed years since he'd walked through the streets of Los Angeles.
"Daniel." Her voice, too, was familiar.
"Do we know each other?"
She smiled slightly. "I've certainly seen you before. Although you may not have seen me. We have... interests... in common."
A fellow vampire hunter, he realized suddenly. She must be, and that would account for her seeming so familiar. Likely he had met her at some point, disguised as a man. There were a few who had styled themselves that way, women who had lost everything to vampires. But ... why was she here? Now? In this gown? "I.. see." He decided that that, at least, was safe.
"If you would accompany Geoffrey?" she gestured into a side room where, he presumed, more formal attire was waiting for him. "He does get so nervous when guests are not properly attired." She smiled charmingly. Holtz nodded slowly; if nothing else, it wouldn't hurt. And he could overpower the butler easily.
"Thank you, sir," the man said with almost palpable relief, and led him into the alcove.
* * *
There were already a few guests there when he emerged again, now clad in something tastefully understated yet fancy enough to probably have cost more than his customary wardrobe for the year put together. The woman in the blue dress was chatting amiably with another dark-haired young woman in a dress of deep lavender, and an older man beside her who looked so much alike her that he must have been her father. With them was a blonde man, about the same age as the two young women.
"Mr. Daniel Holtz," the majordomo announced, and Holtz had a brief moment of wanting to throttle the man out of sheer irritation and the sneaking suspicion that he was going to be the only one at the gathering without any sort of title. Either way, the woman approached him as though they were long-time friends.
"Daniel! So good to see you this evening," she smiled, and for politeness' sake he smiled back.
"My lady," he bowed, and she smiled and swept a slight curtsey.
She chuckled. "No need to stand on formality, Daniel. I am Rose, between friends." She took his arm and steered him towards the other three. "This is Randall Darke, of Eire, his daughter Morgan, and their friend Damion." They all shook hands, Morgan smiling and blushing slightly.
"So pleased to make your acquaintance," she murmured, and Holtz revised his opinion of her age. She couldn't have been more than sixteen.
Her father, on the other hand, had a strong and sure grip and Holtz had the feeling (as he had not had in a long time) that this was a man who would command both respect and liking. "As my daughter has said," he rumbled in a soft, bass voice. "Rose has told us a little about you; she mentioned that you share work."
He glanced covertly at the woman, who simply stood on the sidelines and smiled mysteriously. "Something like that," he said cautiously. Randall seemed to accept that. Before the silence became too overwhelming there was the sound of voices in the foyer again, and the majordomo announced the new arrivals.
"Sebastien Kane of the East End," the man announced. Rose smiled delightedly and rushed to meet the man who, despite looking tired, pale, and walking with a cane, took her sudden embrace with equanimity.
"Rose, darling," he kissed her on the cheek, returning her embrace. "You're looking particularly well. Life seems to be agreeing with you."
"And with you, Sebastien?" She smiled up at him with a look of stubborn concern that Holtz could have sworn he'd seen somewhere before.
"Well enough. No new investigations have been given to me by my superiors, which I am thankful for, especially at this time of the year."
A policeman? Holtz wondered. Or perhaps a private inquiries agent. Rose had some odd friends indeed, he thought, as he shook the man's hand and said something polite in greeting. Sebastien stared at Holtz for a second as though he would look right through and see everything about him. His gaze was most likely what the men at Oxford had had in mind when they put the word piercing in the dictionary. Holtz finally had to look away, something he very rarely did. The man made him uncomfortable.
He looked away and found Rose watching him, measuringly and cautiously. She smiled slightly and nodded, acknowledging his stare in her direction. Sebastien moved on to speak with Morgan and her father, and Rose walked up to speak to Holtz.
"Sebastien is a good man," she interjected before he could get a word out, "But sometimes his work does weigh heavy on him."
"His work," Holtz repeated carefully.
"He is an inquisitor."
"And you are a vampire hunter."
She nodded once. "Among other things. A sorceress of some small skill and a hunter of demons, but yes, also a vampire hunter. I protect those who cannot protect themselves from what they cannot protect themselves against."
He nodded slowly. Not quite what he had expected, but something he could accept. "And the others?"
"Like you, and me, they occupy some aspect of what we do. We all share the fight against evil, against demons." She gestured around, nodding politely when a Marquis, a Lady Caitlin, Sir Ronan, and a Mr. John something-or- other were announced. "I hold this sort of gathering every Christmas, because so often it is a time of tragedy for us, or at least of great loneliness and grief."
"Tragedy?" He looked around. With the possible exception of Sebastien, everyone at the gathering seemed to be happy and well. Even the inquisitor looked more old and tired than sick or grieved.
She nodded. "Your own losses are not unique in this company, Daniel." He whipped his head to stare at her, opened his mouth to say something, but she continued. "Morgan, there, lost her husband, her daughter, and her young son who had just begun to ride the pony she gave him when the creatures who sought her out burned her home thinking that she was there. Caitlin has been captured and escaped from more demon lairs than she cares to number; her dress is cut so that she does not show the scars of it." True enough, the russet-haired woman's dress was unusually high cut at the throat and long in the sleeves. All that showed was her pale face, even her hands were covered with fine gloves. "And Ronan..." she sighed. "Well, Ronan placed his trust in the wrong man. I will leave it at that, because really, it is his story to tell."
Holtz looked around. Everyone was laughing, or at least talking amiably and smiling... but when he looked he did see. Morgan seemed to be laughing and blushing as might a young woman of sixteen or seventeen... but the laughter never reached her eyes, and the way she never moved far from her father began to seem less like shyness and more like protectiveness. Caitlin spoke raucously enough, but the gloves she wore never seemed to come off. And Ronan, of all of them, acted like a shy young maiden, hesitant to trust or speak extensively to anyone. "So... why here? Why now? Why gather and celebrate and laugh as though nothing had happened?" It came out more bitter than he'd meant.
Rose looked at him sadly."We laugh because we can no longer cry, Daniel. Because all of us, if we let ourselves cry or wail or otherwise collapse into grief we would not recover. And because every one of us here can understand, better than most of those in the circles we move, what it is like to lose that which is most precious to you, and we all know what it is to be alone at a time when it seems like the whole world has a family, a loved one, or a friend." She looked out at the room. "No one should be alone tonight."
Holtz nodded slowly, though he still didn't understand. Rose smiled slightly at him, as though she guessed what he was thinking. "The night is still beginning. You will see," she said kindly, and went to welcome new arrivals. Holtz stared after her, then around at the room, flickering with the candlelight, firelight, and reflected glows from the windows. Outside the snow had begun to fall. Holtz moved to the window and watched it settle in silence.
(More to come, but it's 5 am and I need to sleep :) )
Holtz returned to the crypt in which he laired, discouraged. This time a year ago, at least by how long he had been awake, it would have been snowing. Here in the so-called city of agenls, he did not even need the coat the demon had provided for him.
The day had been discouraging enough. Even the most bloody minded survivor was at home, or something resembling it. It was the day before Christmas, a time to be spent with family and friends, or at the very least, alone. It looked as though the latter state would be the one he endured this Christmas. He thought wistfully, and with a sharp stab of pain, of the last Christmas he and Caroline had shared. Since then there had been nine Christmases alone, and this one would be more so than the last. He threw open the door to the crypt more forcefully than he thought he'd meant, stalked in and flopped into the chair.
It took him some moments to notice the envelope on the table near him, and a little while longer to muster up the energy to go and look at it. Most likely it was from the damned demon, wondering why he hadn't killed Angelus yet. The more Holtz worked for the demon, the more he disliked the creature, and yet it could not be gotten rid of as easily as he'd gotten rid of the henchmen. Not for the first time he cursed his lack of foresight for agreeing to the bargain. Still... there was time. There was always time. Holtz was a patient man. He could wait.
He picked up the envelope and turned it over in his hands. Excellently crafted, with his name in copper-plate script on the front. He turned it over; there was a picture of a rose. He frowned slightly. He knew that should mean something to him, but damned if he could figure out what. Shrugging, he broke the seal.
"The Lady Rose requests the pleasure of your company at her celebration on this Christmas eve. Please state your reply promptly upon receipt of this invitation."
He stared. This had to be magic. A celebration? And an invitation from someone of whom he knew nothing? But something about the rose was familiar...
"Yes...?" he found himself saying before he could think of whether or not it was a good idea. The invitation crisped in his hands, causing him to yelp, leap backwards, and stare at the charred spot on the ground where the remains of it lay. Out of the ashes swirled more black dust than should rightfully be left after the burning of a piece of paper. Slowly, they coalesced into a rose, which glowed faintly as it took on solid form, and another piece of paper.
"At 6 in the evening, walk through the door of your home with the rose. It will take you to the home of the Lady."
Holtz stared. It was quite probably near that time now. At least, it had been growing late in the afternoon when he'd returned. He looked from the rose to the doorway. Whatever happened, it had been magic, and it was most likely to involve magic when he walked through the doorway.
* * *
Instead of the street he had expected, full of its strange lights and rushing vehicles, he was in a lavishly yet tastefully appointed foyer, which led into an equally lavish and tasteful parlor. Behind him there was the sound of a clearing throat, and he whirled to face the person.
"If you will come this way, madam. The Lady prefers that all her guests be attired with equal splendour." It appeared to be a butler, or a majordomo of some sort.
"The Lady?" Holtz stared at him suspiciously. This was making him more and more edgy the more he stayed in this place.
"The Lady Rose, at whose invitation you are here," the man replied, unperturbed. "You recieved the invitation. You walked through the door holding the rose," he gestured down at the black-petaled rose which Holtz still held. He dropped it as though it had burned him. "You... are here at her invitation, are you not?"
"Of course he is, Geoffrey."
The woman who walked down the hall looked eerily familiar... and strikingly beautiful. Black hair cascaded in fashionable curls down her back and shoulders, over the equally fashionable pale blue dress that matched her eyes. Holtz actually found himself somewhat breathless at the sight of her, something that hadn't happened to him in something like fifteen years. She smiled slightly, nodding in a gesture that on her was the equivalent of a full, sweeping curtsey, and with that gesture his paranoia and caution was restored. He was reminded that he really didn't know anything about this woman, or this place in which he found himself, or, really what had happened. Already it seemed years since he'd walked through the streets of Los Angeles.
"Daniel." Her voice, too, was familiar.
"Do we know each other?"
She smiled slightly. "I've certainly seen you before. Although you may not have seen me. We have... interests... in common."
A fellow vampire hunter, he realized suddenly. She must be, and that would account for her seeming so familiar. Likely he had met her at some point, disguised as a man. There were a few who had styled themselves that way, women who had lost everything to vampires. But ... why was she here? Now? In this gown? "I.. see." He decided that that, at least, was safe.
"If you would accompany Geoffrey?" she gestured into a side room where, he presumed, more formal attire was waiting for him. "He does get so nervous when guests are not properly attired." She smiled charmingly. Holtz nodded slowly; if nothing else, it wouldn't hurt. And he could overpower the butler easily.
"Thank you, sir," the man said with almost palpable relief, and led him into the alcove.
* * *
There were already a few guests there when he emerged again, now clad in something tastefully understated yet fancy enough to probably have cost more than his customary wardrobe for the year put together. The woman in the blue dress was chatting amiably with another dark-haired young woman in a dress of deep lavender, and an older man beside her who looked so much alike her that he must have been her father. With them was a blonde man, about the same age as the two young women.
"Mr. Daniel Holtz," the majordomo announced, and Holtz had a brief moment of wanting to throttle the man out of sheer irritation and the sneaking suspicion that he was going to be the only one at the gathering without any sort of title. Either way, the woman approached him as though they were long-time friends.
"Daniel! So good to see you this evening," she smiled, and for politeness' sake he smiled back.
"My lady," he bowed, and she smiled and swept a slight curtsey.
She chuckled. "No need to stand on formality, Daniel. I am Rose, between friends." She took his arm and steered him towards the other three. "This is Randall Darke, of Eire, his daughter Morgan, and their friend Damion." They all shook hands, Morgan smiling and blushing slightly.
"So pleased to make your acquaintance," she murmured, and Holtz revised his opinion of her age. She couldn't have been more than sixteen.
Her father, on the other hand, had a strong and sure grip and Holtz had the feeling (as he had not had in a long time) that this was a man who would command both respect and liking. "As my daughter has said," he rumbled in a soft, bass voice. "Rose has told us a little about you; she mentioned that you share work."
He glanced covertly at the woman, who simply stood on the sidelines and smiled mysteriously. "Something like that," he said cautiously. Randall seemed to accept that. Before the silence became too overwhelming there was the sound of voices in the foyer again, and the majordomo announced the new arrivals.
"Sebastien Kane of the East End," the man announced. Rose smiled delightedly and rushed to meet the man who, despite looking tired, pale, and walking with a cane, took her sudden embrace with equanimity.
"Rose, darling," he kissed her on the cheek, returning her embrace. "You're looking particularly well. Life seems to be agreeing with you."
"And with you, Sebastien?" She smiled up at him with a look of stubborn concern that Holtz could have sworn he'd seen somewhere before.
"Well enough. No new investigations have been given to me by my superiors, which I am thankful for, especially at this time of the year."
A policeman? Holtz wondered. Or perhaps a private inquiries agent. Rose had some odd friends indeed, he thought, as he shook the man's hand and said something polite in greeting. Sebastien stared at Holtz for a second as though he would look right through and see everything about him. His gaze was most likely what the men at Oxford had had in mind when they put the word piercing in the dictionary. Holtz finally had to look away, something he very rarely did. The man made him uncomfortable.
He looked away and found Rose watching him, measuringly and cautiously. She smiled slightly and nodded, acknowledging his stare in her direction. Sebastien moved on to speak with Morgan and her father, and Rose walked up to speak to Holtz.
"Sebastien is a good man," she interjected before he could get a word out, "But sometimes his work does weigh heavy on him."
"His work," Holtz repeated carefully.
"He is an inquisitor."
"And you are a vampire hunter."
She nodded once. "Among other things. A sorceress of some small skill and a hunter of demons, but yes, also a vampire hunter. I protect those who cannot protect themselves from what they cannot protect themselves against."
He nodded slowly. Not quite what he had expected, but something he could accept. "And the others?"
"Like you, and me, they occupy some aspect of what we do. We all share the fight against evil, against demons." She gestured around, nodding politely when a Marquis, a Lady Caitlin, Sir Ronan, and a Mr. John something-or- other were announced. "I hold this sort of gathering every Christmas, because so often it is a time of tragedy for us, or at least of great loneliness and grief."
"Tragedy?" He looked around. With the possible exception of Sebastien, everyone at the gathering seemed to be happy and well. Even the inquisitor looked more old and tired than sick or grieved.
She nodded. "Your own losses are not unique in this company, Daniel." He whipped his head to stare at her, opened his mouth to say something, but she continued. "Morgan, there, lost her husband, her daughter, and her young son who had just begun to ride the pony she gave him when the creatures who sought her out burned her home thinking that she was there. Caitlin has been captured and escaped from more demon lairs than she cares to number; her dress is cut so that she does not show the scars of it." True enough, the russet-haired woman's dress was unusually high cut at the throat and long in the sleeves. All that showed was her pale face, even her hands were covered with fine gloves. "And Ronan..." she sighed. "Well, Ronan placed his trust in the wrong man. I will leave it at that, because really, it is his story to tell."
Holtz looked around. Everyone was laughing, or at least talking amiably and smiling... but when he looked he did see. Morgan seemed to be laughing and blushing as might a young woman of sixteen or seventeen... but the laughter never reached her eyes, and the way she never moved far from her father began to seem less like shyness and more like protectiveness. Caitlin spoke raucously enough, but the gloves she wore never seemed to come off. And Ronan, of all of them, acted like a shy young maiden, hesitant to trust or speak extensively to anyone. "So... why here? Why now? Why gather and celebrate and laugh as though nothing had happened?" It came out more bitter than he'd meant.
Rose looked at him sadly."We laugh because we can no longer cry, Daniel. Because all of us, if we let ourselves cry or wail or otherwise collapse into grief we would not recover. And because every one of us here can understand, better than most of those in the circles we move, what it is like to lose that which is most precious to you, and we all know what it is to be alone at a time when it seems like the whole world has a family, a loved one, or a friend." She looked out at the room. "No one should be alone tonight."
Holtz nodded slowly, though he still didn't understand. Rose smiled slightly at him, as though she guessed what he was thinking. "The night is still beginning. You will see," she said kindly, and went to welcome new arrivals. Holtz stared after her, then around at the room, flickering with the candlelight, firelight, and reflected glows from the windows. Outside the snow had begun to fall. Holtz moved to the window and watched it settle in silence.
(More to come, but it's 5 am and I need to sleep :) )