Familiar

Chapter One

Hitting the Mark

Disclaimer: Me no own, please no sue. Spoilers for ODW

Now floating up and down
I spin, colliding into sound
Like whales beneath me diving down
I'm sinking to the bottom of my
Everything that freaks me out
The lighthouse beam has just run out
I'm cold as cold as cold can be
be

- Blue October, Into the Ocean

The sheets were warm, and if anyone asked him, that's the reason he would tell anyone why he was waking up early. He despised warm sheets, blankets should be warm, but sheets needed that cool and crispness to them. He made sure the 2000 thread count, Egyptian cotton, faerie spun, sheets were exactly that.

The moon was glowing brightly by the time he left his room and the troubling dreams that wouldn't leave him alone. He declined a light dinner and instead, went to his office to get his mind lost in paperwork. It succeeded as an hour later he struggled to remember what had woken him up so early anyway.

It was when his alarm went off that he remembered what day it was; it was now midnight of Sunday morning. Something settled in his body. He pressed his intercom button, "Quen, report on Ms. Morgan?"

"She seemed tired, nothing out of the ordinary. It seems the Demon is a little irate, but so does Ms. Morgan."

"Very well, tell Ceridwen I said hello." and he turned off the intercom system. Rachel did seem to have a way of irritating people – and Demons, evidently.

He looked over his paperwork on the Brimstone manufacturing. Everything seemed fine, a small cartel was gaining power on the south side. The reports on the drug showed a large amount of extremely dangerous 'cutters', such as methamphetamine. The problem small cartels didn't understand was the way a small shop compared to Box-Mart; Box-mart had the ability to undercut and buy in mass quantity. Small shops couldn't do that. He wrote a memo to cut prices in that area immediately, as well as the police stations to work that cartel a bit harder. Last thing he needed were more deaths on his hands.

"Murderer." a disgusted voice spat at him in the back of his mind, "Drug lord."

He closed his eyes as if in pain and took a deep breath, settling the voices in his mind, "I am trying to be a better person, even if others don't understand..."

"...But you don't seem to worry about killing people for your own ends, do you, Trenton Aloysius Kalamack? Funny how you call my witch black, when you kill for profit, and she kills… Why, she hasn't killed anyone who didn't ask her to! Imagine that."

He settled his papers and looked for a better distraction. Something not work related, something that he could be alone and busy. A social gathering perhaps? He paged his secretary to see what events were going on today. The pleasant thing about being Trent Kalamack was that he could never crash a party because he was invited to all of them.

It was then he felt that damn pull again. He pulled out his cell phone, "What's going on?"

"Mr. Pierce just left on his motorcycle, Ms. Morgan seems to be throwing things at him. She seems upset."

"She's always upset." Trent muttered under his breath. He could feel the pull going into a fevered pitch and begin to wobble. No... no, no, no...! Shit.

"She's crying."

"I know." Something felt like it was bottomed out in him. Hell, he hated being tied to her mood swings. He went back to his desk and pulled up his files. He had to get rid of this goddamn familiar tie. He'd tried all the conventional ways to break it... but evidently a human was too different from a fish, or even a horse, for the traditional magics to work.

He knew what he had to do, but there had no be another way around it... He couldn't stand summoning... a... a demon. His kind had worked too hard to eliminate their kind, it had nearly wiped his kind out! But, he couldn't do this, he couldn't stand being tied to Rachel like this...

He couldn't stand being a demon's familiar.

There was that pain again, deep, burrowing it's tears into his heart. He wanted to comfort her and strangle her at the same time. It would be so easy, put a hit out on Rachel, pain went away. He'd have to deal with the living vampire, the pixie, Ceridwen – Quen, the demon... Most he could easily have dealt with, it was Ceridwen, Quen, and the demon that were too large of obstacles to ignore.

Besides the fact, he didn't want to. She was becoming something of a ... friend. She wasn't someone stuck with him because of his race, family, or money. She stayed around him willingly (somewhat). And as Quen pointed out numerous times, he didn't have enough friends.

The sadness in his heart rang again. He gave a frustrated growl. This whole, 'being a better person' thing was starting to grate on his last nerves. He pushed the button on his intercom for the weekend secretary to send flowers to Rachel, no card. Let her deal with some new puzzle, throw a stuffed animal in there, no he didn't care what flowers or animal just do it. Rush delivered immediately.

He eased a little, until it panged again. Maybe he should add chocolate...

-----

The party was dull, but it was cementing a few ties to the mayor and police departments so it wasn't a complete loss. He poured half a glass of wine into a plant before a vacant red head bobbed over to him, "It's nice to see you here, Mr. Kalamack."

He inclined his head, "I enjoy being able to spend time with those in the community and thanking them for their services."

She giggled, the smell of rum was heavy on her, "I just bet you do. Has anyone told you how handsome you are? I haven't been able to take my eyes off you all night."

One of those. He debated for a moment, maybe a quick diversion would ease the pain he had been feeling from Ms. Morgan all night. "It's a shame someone so lovely would be here escorted."

She smiled and grabbed his tie, "Well, maybe you can fix that..."

"Trent! There you are you repugnant--!"

"Ms. Morgan." He muttered dryly, "Just the woman I was trying to avoid."

The inebriated girl sighed, "I'll leave you two alone."

"I can't believe you!" Rachel spat, "Flowers? Chocolate? A stuffed teddy bear? What the hell is going on?"

"I heard you were going through some difficulties, I wanted to help." He took in her leather pants and green T-shirt. Her eyes were ringed with bags and cheeks flushed with outrage. It made her green eyes sparkle.

"Oh, so I'm not good enough to touch or acquaint yourself with, but I'm good enough to throw flowers at when I'm having a bad day? Do you think I'd take it out on you? I should!"

He noticed the draw of people's attention, "Shall we take this to a different room, Ms. Morgan?"

"Hell no! I will yell at you where and when I feel like it!"

He rolled his eyes and grabbed her elbow, but she snatched it back from him, "Don't touch me!"

"I'm wrong for not touching you, and I'm wrong for touching you. Tell me Ms. Morgan, what am I supposed to do in such a situation?"

She glared, and marched off to the hallway, "You coming?" she growled over her shoulder. He set his glass down and gave a heavy sigh before following her to a sitting room.

The minute he shut the door she spun on him, "So you're spying on me now? Why am I surprised? I am a demon after all!"

"Ms. Morgan." he said softly, "Have you felt anything different?"

She was confused, "Excuse me?"

He frowned. He looked around the room and noticed a letter opener on a desk. He grabbed it.

"Drop it Trent!"

"I'm not going to hurt you, it's merely for demonstration." He took a deep breath and ran the point over his palm, leaving a wide gash.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

He looked at her, "Calm down and tell me, do you feel anything in your hand?"

She frowned, "Of course not."

It was one-way. Wonderful. No need to let her know anything else then. "I was afraid there was a side-effect of me being a demon's familiar. I'm glad to see there isn't any."

"I never made you my familiar Trent. I've told you a dozen times that I did it to save your ass."

He gave a dry smile, "As you have told me."

She glanced at his hand, "You're bleeding."

"It would appear."

Frowning, she walked out of the room and back with a first aid kit. "Let me fix it."

Something went deadly still in him, "I'll do it myself."

"Afraid I'll use it for a spell or something? When did the big bad Elf get scared of little ol' me?"

He glared at her.

"Like I could forget." she muttered.

He could feel her watching him, studying him. It was soothing at times when she did it. He knew that whenever she was around him she liked to stop and stare at him, memorizing him. He often wondered why she did it. It made him feel like he still had some power over her. After everything she had done to him, done for him, she still would watch him in a bit of awe. It calmed him to know this.

"Thank you. For the gifts."

"Of course."

He could feel her emotions now as she watched him put salve and antibiotics on the wound. Something deep was pulling in her, she was confused, thankful, and... the thought stunned him and his head shot up to look at her with a bit of wonder.

The emotion stopped, replaced with worry, "Is there something on my teeth?" she said.

"I'm glad we're friends, is all." he whispered softly.

Emotions rolled, deeply, softly, tentatively. They were brushed by confusion and anger. "When did we becomes friends Kalamack?" Nice, not 'Trent' anymore, distancing and anger. Safe emotions. He was beginning to understand her.

"I think right now."

"I'm not friends with murderers."

"I'll stop."

Surprise, the tentative feeling was stronger before it was brushed away. "Or drug lords."

"If I stop being a 'drug lord', as you put it, I'll become a murderer again. You can't have both."

She snorted, but it was a start.

He wrapped his hand in gauze, "As enlightening an evening as this has been, I'm going to head home now. I think we've both had enough for one day."

She gave a small nod, not trusting herself to say anything.

He had to leave a parting blow so she could right herself, she was always waiting for it, "And next time you decide to drop by a charity ball, would a comb be too much to ask for?"

"Go Turn yourself Kalamack!"

----

The evening brought little relief from the agonizing state he was in. She was mad, crying, frustrated... somewhere. He wanted to shake her and tell her to get over it, whatever it was. He didn't want to know what it was.

"Morning already?" the red-head grumbled in her pillow.

"Not quite, Thank God." he muttered. He stood up and walked to the shower.

"Wanna have an evening quickie?"

He glanced over his shoulder at the girl, trying her best to look seductive with smeared make-up, ridiculous bed-head, blotchy skin, and nearly anorexic figure. By the Turn, what had he been thinking earlier? "Go home."

She frowned, "But we had such fun together... well, except when you called me some other girl's name. I think you owe me for that."

He froze, perplexed. Perhaps he had forgotten her name and just made one up. "I owe you nothing, get out."

He heard her give a little harrumph and grab the sheets, "Maybe I should tell this 'Rachel' girl where you were last night."

He wanted to bang his head on something, hard. "You're name isn't Rachel? Is it Roxy? Rebbecca? I get them confused after a while."

"Janice." she growled.

"My mistake. Get out now or I'll have you removed." and with that, he started the water for the shower. The mist was warm immediately and felt good for washing that tramp's scent off his skin. The rubbing alcohol in her expensive perfume lingered on his skin. He heard the door slam and felt some relief. He let the suds sink into his skin before nearly falling over. Rachel had hit a new low.

"That's it!" he hissed. Demon or no demon, this was ending TONIGHT. He got out of the shower and dried himself, grabbing his suit and tie and finishing his dressing as he stormed down the hall.

Jon began to keep pace with Trent as he noticed him walking down the hallways, "Sa'Han, are you feeling all right today? I saw the woman leaving--".

"--She's nothing. Get the circle ready for me. I'm summoning Minias."

Jon's blue eyes widened and he stumbled, "M-Minias? The demon?"

Trent stopped and glared at Jon, "That's exactly what I said. Do it."

"Yes, Sa'han." he muttered softly before running down the hallway.

Trent rubbed his temples, he must have gone insane to be doing this. But how could he keep going on with Rachel's emotions tainting everything he did?

When he got down to the room a protective circle was ready and waiting. Quen and Jonathan were in the room, Jon was fidgeting and Quen looked like he'd aged five years.

"Sa'han, do you know what you're doing? You're dealing in demons!"

"I am trying to get what little sanity I have returned to me." Do you know what it's like having her in my head?

"There has to be another way--!"

"Don't you think I've tried that? You think that this isn't the last resort that it appears to be?" He rubbed the mark on his wrist and tried to compose himself, "I can barter for the information if I have to."

"With what? What could you possibly have that would be of interest to them?"

"I'll figure it out." he muttered darkly. He grabbed the mirror Quen was holding and set it in the center of the circle and held his breath. It was now or never.

He activated the mirror and circles.

"Why, Trenton Aloysius Kalamack! You said you'd never summon me again and yet, here we are."

"I didn't summon you, I asked." he said sternly.

"Why, yes, of course. I come out of curiosity. For one so against our kind, you seem to be falling into old habits of your people. Careful, or you'll wind up like they did."

He felt his ears redden, "I'll do no such thing. I want to know what was done to me and how to get rid of it."

Minias smirked, "This will cost you more than just a simple mark."

Trent grabbed his wrist where Minias' mark burned, "Give me some credit."

Minias smirked, "Always worth trying. So, I take it you don't want the mark then? I doubt you have information to tempt me into giving it to you."

"I can tell you how Rachel got through your security."

The demon paused and looked at Trent, "I'll give you what the spell is and who cast it. But I won't tell you how to remove it."

The Elf knew he could either have Rachel's emotions in his mind or another mark. He shivered, he'd live with a hundred Rachels in his mind before he took another mark. "It's a start. Tell me who did it and what it is."

Minias' smile grew wider, Trent thought he saw sharp teeth but decided he was seeing things, "You first."

"The pixie. Your wards weren't enough for a pixie to bypass."

Minias stroked his chin, "Very clever. Perhaps this information might sway Newt to leave me alone for a bit." he eyed the Elf, "We had a deal. Algaliarept was the one who cast it. Seems you left a bottle of water lying around." he smirked, "It's a bonding spell used by Demons to make their familiars break and behave a little quicker. Not too hard to break... if you're a demon. But tell me, Trenton Aloysius Kalamack, how is it so bad? She is a little spit-fire, isn't she? Probably half a dozen moods swings a day, I can see how--"

"I banish you, Minias, back to where you came from and out of my sight!"

Minias smirked and bowed, "As long as I was of service." and left in a plume of burnt amber scented smoke.

Trent fell dirty, filthy, and relieved. While he wasn't free, knowledge was power and he felt the answer was within his grasp.

He retched on the floor promptly after.