Morrighan Grosvenor; a Soul Reaper on the hunt. Tyler Simms; an unsuspecting Son of Ipswich. 'I promise…This will not end well.'
A/N: According to The Covenant canon, the Sons of Ipswich, Chase Collins and their respective fathers, are the only living warlocks in the world. This will not be the case in my story.
Beta'd by the lovely Pastel Shades.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own the Sons. But I do own the idea/this version of a Soul Reaper. So please…DON'T STEAL IT!
Rated 'M' for excessive swearing, character death (none of the Sons, don't worry), SICK characters and possible blood and gore in future chapters.
Twilight
A Tyler Simms Romance
By Scribbles-Dementia
Diabolus Pactum
The bitch was supposed to be an easy lay. She had sauntered into the office not five days ago, temping for that snotty redhead on pregnancy leave. Blonde haired, blue eyed, and with a dizzy smile constantly plastered on her face, she was every man's wet dream.
He hadn't even had to 'charm' her like he did some of the other girls. She was the one who had suggested a weekend in the mountains and, obviously not thinking with his head, he had said yes.
And now he was running through the God forsaken bush, down the mountainside.
Damn broad.
She had got him all hot and bothered too with that sexy strip tease. He was definitely not looking at her face when she shimmied up to him on the bed, rubbing that curvy body of hers against all the right places. She had brought her head down for a kiss, one he was fully expecting to involve a lot of tongue and spit swapping, and he was busy working that slutty little red lace bra off. And then he decided to look up.
You lucky bastard. Now let's get off this fucking mountain in one piece, eh?
He hadn't known black could glow like that. Looking into her eyes was like looking into eternity – an eternity of nothingness. And despair. He was sure what he had seen in her eyes would involve a lot of despair.
He had pushed her off then and ran.
The soles of his feet were all cut up and bloody and it was a cold night, made even colder by his lack of clothes. He had attempted a Heating spell but his fingers had stumbled over the runes and he had ended up setting fire to a tree instead. It was a blazing beacon that screamed 'Here I am! Come and get me!' And he had to run again.
He'd heard of them before. Soul Reapers others called them – creatures who fed off the souls of witches and warlocks. He had brushed off the stories; urban legends he thought.
Stupid idiot!
Stumbling into a clearing, he tried to orientate himself. He knew there was a highway towards the east leading back into town and the Southern Cross was just over there to his right so if he went this way…
It was then that he noticed the girl.
"Hey…Hey you! Girl! You have a cell phone on you I could borrow?"
She turned sharply, seemingly startled by his voice suddenly coming out of the quiet night.
"Yeah sure," the teen replied with a tinge of an accent in her voice, walking closer, hands deep in the pockets of her long black coat. "You know, you shouldn't be out here so late. Never know who you'll run into."
"Don't I know that, kid," he laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. "In fact, you should probably be getting outta here too. There's this crazy skank bitch after me. You live around here?"
She shook her head.
"Nah. Just here on a job."
"Job?" He frowned. She sure was taking her own sweet time producing that cell phone and damn if that coat didn't look warm. He wondered if she would let him borrow it.
She was standing right in front of him now. He towered a good foot above her and he wasn't even considered that tall. She smiled up at him; peering out from behind dark curly lashes with eyes the impossible colour of fresh periwinkle.
"Yeah…You."
"What the…"
And then her hand was clamped around his throat, lifting him bodily high above her head. Her smile had turned into a feral grin and her eyes were glowing that same terrifying black he had seen not too long ago.
Fuck…
She was ridiculously strong for such a puny teenager. Cursing her to hell and back in his head, he tried to summon the power to throw her off of him. An Earth Shifting spell came to mind but is was hard imagining the runes he needed with the girl cutting off blood circulation to his head.
The ground trembled beneath them and a chunk of dirt and rock rose up to meet his feet, relieving the pressure around his neck, and then rose even higher so that she had to let go of him. It wasn't quite what he had in mind, but it would do. Glaring down at her, he worked on forming an energy ball to blast her back to the ninth level of Hades.
But the girl seemed more amused than intimidated.
"Come on," she taunted, taking a few steps back, making it easier for him to hit her from his elevated vantage point. "Give me your best shot."
If her aim was to piss him off, she was doing a great job of it.
He was sure that by then he'd accumulated enough energy to kill an elephant ten times over. The little shit was going to get hers now.
His grin was vicious enough to rival hers yet still she seemed tickled by the entire situation. He growled and heaved the large ball of energy at her.
Take that!
And took it she did. She caught it in her hands and then – absorbed all the power into herself.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUUUUUUUCK!
"Hasn't anyone ever told you," she drawled, "that my kind, are immune to such magic?"
He really should have paid more attention to those 'urban legends'.
She smirked.
"My turn."
Effortlessly leaping up at him, she tackled him back to the ground, tucking into a roll and gracefully coming back up on her feet. He lay still for a moment, winded. Somewhere in the distance, a horse whinnied.
"We'll have to speed this up," she said, more to herself than him, cocking her head.
He pushed himself off the ground only to find her hand once again circled painfully around his throat. This time, she pulled him up until he was at eye level with her and then those black orbs trailed down to linger on his lips.
"I bet you taste good." Her words came out hoarse and lusty.
She brought her face closer, stopping just short of touching him. He had thought she was going to kiss him. But then she opened her mouth. And he gasped.
It hurt. Bloody fucking shit did it hurt!
He felt it start at his toes. And then it rose up, curling through his gut and up his throat and –
The man was already growing cold when she unceremoniously dropped him. Pulling a dark glass bottle out from one of her pockets, she uncorked it, held it to her lips and breathed into it, watching with delight as it started to glow an eerie red before she resealed it.
A loud angry neighing heralded the arrival of another presence in the clearing. The man was extremely tall, deathly pale and dressed in black as she was. He did not seem surprised to find the girl there nor did he seem affected by the presence of a half naked greying corpse.
"Haven't I told you not to play with your food?"
Her grin could only have been described as impish.
"Relax, Theon. Or I just might change my mind about sharing." She held up the glowing bottle and gave it a little shake. "This one actually tastes quite good."
"Of course he would," scoffed Theon. "I always choose our marks carefully. Six unreported rapes before he found the runes for an extremely powerful aphrodisiac spell."
"Mmm," she purred. "Imagine how much tastier he would've been if he'd killed someone too. By the way, where's Artemisia?"
"She'd be around someplace." A twig snapped somewhere to their right. "Speak of the devil."
A busty blonde emerged from out of the darkness, the moon's rays reflecting off bare patches of skin. She too noticed the body on the ground at their feet but her reaction was not quite as calm as Theon's had been.
"Damn it, Morrighan! He was mine!"
The woman stalked towards the pair, ignoring the fact that her breasts were in danger of popping out of her bra held up by only one strap, the other having slipped down her shoulder. With a disgusted huff, she kicked the corpse angrily and turned smouldering eyes on the youngest Soul Reaper. Morrighan shrugged.
"Yeah…he was." She licked her lips. "But you let him get away."
"Making him fair game," added Theon, ever the mediator between the two females.
"I just wanted to play with him a bit," the woman pouted.
Morrighan laughed. It wasn't a pleasant laugh.
"Bet you lured him in with your 'innocent-little-girl-lost-in-the-outback' act," sulked the woman. "You suck."
"Bush. Not outback. Calm down, Arty." The girl was smiling lazily now. She carelessly tossed the bottle to the woman. "Here. Have first taste."
"It's not really first taste when you've already been at him," the older female complained but she removed the stopper from the neck of the bottle anyway. Bringing the glowing vessel to her lips, Artemisia inhaled deeply, her eyes rolling to the back of her head in delicious satisfaction.
"Hey, leave some for Theon," scolded Morrighan, her voice laced with amusement.
Reluctantly, Artemisia tossed the bottle to the man who caught it deftly. Unlike his female companions, he went about his meal in a more refined manner, whipping out a white handkerchief and dabbing at the corners of his mouth when he was done.
"Ever the gentleman," snorted Artemisia.
"You would do well to learn some female decorum," said Theon languidly, sparing a brief glance at her scantily clothed body.
Artemisia waved a hand dismissively.
"Clothes are overrated. And besides, it's not like we actually need them, seeing as how we never feel the cold – or warmth for that matter. And I'm sure other people really wouldn't mind."
"She's got a point there," agreed Morrighan.
"Thanks pipsqueak."
The girl rolled her eyes. And then she felt Theon's sudden stillness next to her. Every muscle tensed and all her senses jumped to attention in reply.
"Do you feel that?"
He scanned the darkened wood with narrowed eyes. Artemisia tilted her head back, stuck her nose in the air and gave it a few cautious sniffs. She too tensed immediately and shot Morrighan a meaningful look. The girl reached an arm into her coat.
"There'll be no need for that."
A body, if one could even call it that, soon followed the new voice. It may have once been good looking, handsome even, as evidenced by what remained of its face. But all that was left of it now was bile inducing. Tufts of brown hair sprouted from its skull in the places where skin still clung to flesh. The entire left side of its head, half its nose and what was possibly once its mouth had melted, leaving a mess of pus and rotten tissue; the white of its bones peeking out in places where the flesh had been completely eaten away. Its left eye was almost completely hidden under what had been its forehead, but its right eye peered out at them; bright, blue and alert, from the intact, young looking half of its face. Its body was clothed but, judging by the state of its hands that stuck out of its jacket sleeves, it was probably safe to assume that the rest of it was similarly disfigured.
Theon growled.
"Warlock," Artemisia hissed.
"Tainted," Morrighan muttered to herself. "Really bad dark magic."
"Evening," the creature said calmly, coming to a stop just out of arm's reach.
"You obviously have a death wish, Warlock," drawled Artemisia, managing to look quite threatening even in her underwear. The creature let its good eye roam over the woman appreciatively. Her eyes hardened. "One I'll be more than willing to grant."
"Oh, feisty." And then it turned to Theon, ignoring her and Morrighan completely. "I have a proposal for you and your team. Quite an attractive one, I believe."
Artemisia sent a lazy glance in Morrighan's direction.
"I vote we just eat it now."
Morrighan quirked an amused brow, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"In its current state, it'll probably just give you a bad stomach ache, Arty. And besides, with that much black magic pumped into it, I doubt it even has a soul worth salvaging."
"I hate it when they sell their souls to the old fart," complained Artemisia.
"You mean Belle?" asked Morrighan, though the girl knew full well whom Artemisia was talking about.
"Beelzebub, kid. No need to be rude with the name calling," chided the older Soul Reaper, conveniently forgetting her own rudeness mere seconds before. And then she continued speaking as if the little tangent never occurred. "It's such a waste of good food."
Theon, ever the one to think before he leapt, gave the warlock a hard look.
"Speak!" he ordered in a low dangerous voice. "Before I let them at you."
Morrighan shot the former warlock a feral grin. It may not be good for eating but it could still provide a little entertainment along the Senseless Bloodletting line.
"I'd like to procure your services," said the creature simply.
"Now that's just completely unorthodox!" Artemisia protested before it could get any further. "We hunt your kind. It's just not right for you to come seek us out like this."
"She's afraid it'll ruin her reputation, you see," explained Morrighan, knowing she and Artemisia were being complete asses but she didn't care.
Theon simply ignored them like he was prone to when things became ridiculous.
"What do you offer us in return for our services?"
"The Sons of Ipswich."
That got their attention.
"Well, two of them," the creature amended.
"Ipswich? The original witches of the New World?" Artemisia's eyes gleamed greedily at the thought of the succulent feast of the senses just one of their souls would provide, like the rarest of delicacies offered to someone who'd only ever eaten mouldy bread their entire lives. It wouldn't even matter if the worst thing they'd ever done in their life was jaywalk because power that old was just plain delicious, like old wine getting better with age.
"All I want are the souls of those who've Ascended; one Caleb Danvers and, in a few days time, Pogue Parry. You can share the other two between the three of you."
"I vote we take the job," Artemisia piped up, now feeling a whole lot more cordial towards the creature.
Morrighan rolled her eyes. Theon regarded her with a thoughtful look.
"What do you think, Morrighan?"
The young Soul Reaper's face was now serious as she cast the creature a suspicious look.
"Why do you need our help? Can't you go after them on your own?"
"I've tried. With some rather unfortunate results, I'm afraid," it admitted.
"They kicked your butt, huh?" smirked Morrighan.
"Obviously," Artemisia snorted.
The creature that was once a warlock was not amused.
"Danvers was willed his father's powers just after he Ascended," it explained, though it came out sounding more like an excuse for his failure.
"What do you need their souls for?" asked Morrighan, still wary of the unusual request. Artemisia was right; witches and warlocks did not come to them for help. It was against the natural state of things.
"Does it matter?" the creature countered.
"And do you really trust us not to keep them for ourselves once we catch them?"
"Not really," the creature laughed, "But let's just say I'll be checking up on you."
"How did you find us anyway?" asked Artemisia, looking suddenly quite perplexed.
"I have my ways," it said cryptically.
"Fine. Be all secretive," the woman mumbled grumpily.
"So what do you think?" Theon finally asked, looking to his two female companions. Artemisia's grin was answer enough. She turned to Morrighan.
"Pipsqueak?"
Morrighan lifted a careless shoulder.
"Why not? It's been a while since we've been across the puddle. And I'm sure Arty misses home."
"The Pacific Ocean is hardly a puddle, kid," said Artemisia in clear amusement. "And Massachusetts is nowhere near Louisiana."
"So my U.S. Geography's a little rusty," said Morrighan with another shrug and an indolent smile.
Having his answer, Theon turned back to the creature they were now working for.
"Just how are we to get to these boys? There are others of our kind who've tried finding them before and rumours have started circulating in some circles that the families of Ipswich are protected by all sorts of anti-detection spells."
The creature smiled, or grimaced. It was hard to tell.
"They are. Unless you know where to look, you'll probably never find them."
"And where do we start looking?" cut in Artemisia. But the creature did not seem to mind her interruption. Its good eye had taken on the look of a conspirer and this time it wasn't too hard to guess that it was grinning like a hungry wolf.
"Spenser Academy; elitist school for rich elitist bastards."
Morrighan snorted. Figures.
"And how will we recognise them?" she asked.
"You'll know when you see them," the creature simply said.
"And what shall we call our new employer?" Theon added. "Or would you rather we address you as 'Mister It'?"
This seemed to remind the creature that he had hardly any discernable features left. The look in his eye turned dark and Morrighan was certain the last encounter it had with the Sons of Ipswich was still a very fresh, and very sore, memory.
"Chase Collins."
"Well then Mister Collins." Theon dipped his respectfully, though Morrighan suspected it might have been a sarcastic gesture. "We look forward to our next meeting in the good U. S. of A."
"And I look forward to seeing your progress," Chase Collins countered. He turned to Artemisia. "You may want to put on some clothes. Not that I mind but I'd rather you not draw attention to yourselves." He spared Morrighan only a curt nod, and then he turned and disappeared into the bush the same way he had appeared.
The youngest Soul Reaper turned to Theon then. As the oldest amongst them, he had always been their unspoken leader and so she tried not to question his decision in matters. Theon had a cool head on his shoulders and was painfully rational, making him a sharp and dangerous mind to deal with. But Morrighan was curious.
"Are we really going to hand over the Sons of Ipswich to that thing?"
They may now be working for 'Mister Collins' but he was still a warlock, and a corrupted one at that. Morrighan didn't have to like it and though Theon would try to be respectful as was his gentlemanly nature, she couldn't bring herself to give a damn. Theon seemed to think carefully on the question before he answered.
"We'll see. I have my suspicions as to what a half-dead warlock would do with souls infused with so much magic. And if I'm right," his lips curled into a grin to rival the devil's very own, "we just might come out of this with more than two souls."
Morrighan smirked. Now this was more like it!
"Well, what are we still waiting around here for?" Artemisia exclaimed, rubbing her hands together eagerly.
Theon smiled at her, like a father amused at the antics of an excited child. He then threw his head back, emitting a cry that was raw, animalistic – unnatural. Artemisia followed suit, and then Morrighan. As soon as the last cry died away, there came the sound of thundering hooves. Three black beasts resembling horses galloped into the clearing, coming sharply to a stop in front of their masters. Smoke that smelled strongly of brimstone rose from their nostrils and their eyes glowed redder than coals from the hottest furnaces. Morrighan reached out to run her hand through her animal's mane affectionately.
"We're going on a little trip, love love."
Artemisia laughed as she hoisted herself into her saddle.
"You're going to spoil that thing one day," the woman warned. She made quite an interesting picture; still dressed in her red lingerie and astride a smoking black fiend.
"He's not a thing," retorted Morrighan, indignantly, before returning her attention to the animal, cooing, "Are you?" The creature tossed its head in reply, and then bent its front legs to allow Morrighan to mount it.
"Morrighan's not spoiling him. Just instilling a sense of loyalty," said Theon, already atop his steed, cutting Artemisia off just as she opened her mouth again. "It's a good trait."
Artemisia shook her head good-naturedly, too excited to squabble with the girl.
"You know, Theon," she started as they turned in the direction of the eastern Australian coast. "The hell beasts are nice and all, very traditional, but it wouldn't hurt to catch up with the rest of the 21st century. Invest in a private jet, maybe a few sports cars. Much more comfortable, wouldn't you say?"
Morrighan smiled in anticipation of the one-sided argument. It was an ongoing thing between the two. Artemisia would suggest upgrades that she insisted would make their jobs easier whilst Theon would counter saying they really had no need of them. So far, he had only conceded to allowing cell phones and even that had been done reluctantly. Morrighan didn't mind. She couldn't understand sometimes why humans needed so many things. But it was entertaining to let them both think she was on their side and so she kept silent during these interchanges.
They rode away, Artemisia still championing the merits of modern technology, shouting to be heard over the galloping hooves, leaving the remains of that evening's meal still lying in the middle of the clearing. None of them were too worried about the police or anyone else finding the body.
By morning, the dingoes would have taken care of that.
So what do you guys think?
- Scribbles