I smelled my intended as she entered the sandwich shop. It was her sandwich shop. I smelled her everywhere. She and five other scents dominated the shop. Four were her blood relatives, and one was the girl who entered behind her. The shop reeked with the smells of any restaurant in New York. Unappetizing meat, processed bread, and cheese wafted into my nose.
She smelled of paint, vanilla perfume, the tuna she'd had for lunch at school, and the blood of her period. It was an interesting combination to say the least. The redhead next to her smelled of aluminum from the crushed root beer cans that decorated her jacket, the root beer that remained in the cans, and her own menstruation. That girl had eaten tuna for lunch as well, and smelled of sweat from cheer leading practice.
My intended didn't see me. She marched straight passed me and her parents, up the stairs and into her room. The girl in the soda cans sat down and watched the boy up by the counter. The boy smelled of tears that had dried hours before, food too healthy for consideration, properly applied deodorant and aftershave, and a hint of smoke that I couldn't place.
I ate my sandwich. Cold ham would get me through until I hunted tonight. This was the final step in my investigation. So far everything checked out nicely. I just needed to see if she had a suitable family.
Her painting had caught my eye first. I needed an artist. It was a portrait of her father. I'd stared at it when her principle had presented it in his "art off." She captured something perfect in the man's eyes, a slow burning anger that he didn't let go. It wasn't just in the eyes, or even mostly. It was in his lips and hands. I decided I wanted to know her better.
It was a simple thing, asking about her at school. She was pretty and well known enough that it was easy to do. She had a reputation as a trouble maker. I had to listen closer to get to the truth, that she was a fighter. She could be lazy, never applied herself to anything good, but she had fight in her. She had a good heart according to a girl in the same art class, Jenny. From the sound of it she would make an excellent mother.
Breaking into different record offices at midnight had given me other useful hints. Her parents seemed to be in a good financial situation, her older brother's grades were outstanding, and there was nothing worrying in the family's medical history.
Here was the last thing I needed to check. I needed to know her family better. I needed a family that would support a daughter with a child conceived in sin.
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I looked at the cardboard sign saying "18th Street Elementary School Spelling Bee." After watching the Russos for several days, I already knew that this was going to be good.
"And, open your eyes!" My intended, Alex, announced as she led the redhead, Harper in. Names get annoying after so long. It took a while to get them memorized.
Harper complained to Alex. I didn't hear what she said because my cell phone went off. I glanced down. It was one of my daughters, Isabella. I quickly texted her where we were eating for dinner so I missed the start of the argument. By the time I could focus again the two were whispering and I didn't catch the rest of their argument. I had no idea what Alex was doing. I had no idea what any of this was about. But it was surprisingly fun to watch Harper smack talk the girl who she loudly announced to be Carol.
I learned Alex's younger brother's name moments later.
"Are you ready for your word Max?" Her father asked. Max moved like lightning to the podium.
"MAX! M, A, C, K, S. Max." He announced. A look of pure satisfaction crossed his face at that.
"That, that isn't your word, that's your name. And you misspelled it." His father looked confused. He looked disappointed at his son.
"I should have asked for a definition." Max announced, and he left the makeshift podium and sat down right next to me. He gave me a devilish grin. I was not expecting that.
"Okay, Carol, your word is ." The man announced.
The surrounding Russos looked at her, all besides Max, who winked at me. "That's my girlfriend's cousin. I offered my help to her before the Spelling Bee, which she was glad to accept." I didn't know what to say to that.
The girl closed her eyes, positioned her hands, and delivered the entire 36 letter word in a rush.
"That's why I threw this Spelling Bee. It has to be Harper who wins this. But it had to be a fair fight, which is why I have been teaching Carol her word for the last four hours." Max continued. I nodded as Jerry stammered out that Carol was correct, Alex face palmed, and Harper made her way to the podium.
"Harper, your word is sergeant." Her dad announced. I think she was adopted or something. She didn't smell like the other Russos.
"S, E, R, G, A, E, N, T." Harper misspelled the world. I felt sorry for the girl, but slightly annoyed as I had been a sergeant once.
"Harper that's not right." Her dad told her. I sighed with the rest of Waverly Sub Station.
Carol jumped up and clapped her hands, shouting "YES!" She then started dancing and whooping.
"I'm responsible for showing her New York while my girlfriend deals with the rock band she arranged for her older sister's wedding." Max explained to me. As I had yet to respond to him I was unsure why he kept up with this.
"Put a pork in it Carol!" Harper shouted.
"Your sister has quite the mouth on her." I said, gesturing to Harper.
"Oh, she's not my sister. She's my sister's best friend who is living with us because her parents are touring the country looking for work in their family show." Max nodded. "Now, you look like a very trustworthy person. I am starting a business of drinkable meals, and I think you look like the perfect salesmen for them. How would you like a job?"
"Um, I would be delighted to go into business with you. But, um, I'm meeting a friend for dinner and I really can't be late." I told him, and I left his presence as fast as I possibly could. I did not like being any closer to his smell than I had to.
I was amazed at the show Alex and her father put on for Harper. The Spelling Bee they had recreated was strangely fascinating to watch. And it proved that both Max and her father were loyal to friends, in their own way.
I had what I needed. No family like this would abandon their daughter in an hour of need.
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"So, do you have a good target yet?" Isabella asked me. We ate hot dogs in a park just outside of the city. It was always great to meet up with a puppy. She was still barely in control of her wolf side. Being around her was infectious.
"I've been investigating this one girl. I think I have my plan worked out too. But I have a backup or two in case she doesn't work out. I should be moving on in a month or so." I told her.
"Anyway I can help?" She asked me.
"Why yes. I'm looking for something really embarrassing that will get her to insult me, any ideas?" I devoured another hot dog. Which is kind of cannibalism when you think about it.
"My mother paints famous pictures from American history with the participants being dogs." Isabella suggested.
"That's perfect. Thank you." I smiled at my daughter. "Very embarrassing, I love it."
Isabella alerted as a squirrel rushed by, pointing her nose at it.
"Daddy, can I?" She begged, breathless from excitement. I laughed and nodded, and we chased after the small animal together. We chased it up a tree and proceeded to circle the tree. Isabella barked as I growled. My heart pumped quickly as we hunted. I sniffed deeply, seeing if there was anyone too close. Isabella had not bothered. She was already up in the tree. I heard a brief snap up a small neck. But I had bigger problems.
The girl was young. She was blonde, a face full of freckles, maybe ten years old. And she looked agonizingly like her.
I moved forward slowly, keeping my gaze on her. "What's your name?" I asked softly.
"Ashley." She answered. "Are you a dog?"
"Yes Ashley, I am a dog. I live with a nice family out in Riverdale. Do you want to know a secret?" I asked. I felt Isabella's eyes on me. Stupid pup, she'd try to stop me from doing the right thing.
"What kind of a secret?" Ashley asked me. She took a step back, so I had to take a step forward.
"All dogs can become human." I whispered to her. "But you can't tell anyone about this, okay?" I was close enough to grab the girl's arm. "No one can no, ever. Or else we will have to eat you." My voice got lower, turning into a growl. And I let her see my face change for a split second. I held my hand over her mouth. "Do. Not. Scream."
Her eyes were full of terror.
"I am going to let you go. Never tell anyone about this, except your dog. Keep a dog Ashley. You want to keep a dog." And I let her go. She fled fast. And I turned to Isabella. She had left the tree silently, hoping to surprise me if I had to eat the girl.
"You're a bastard." She whispered to me. I pulled out a shoebox and waved it in front of her nose as she said that. She hunched herself back ever so slightly, her eyes focused on it. I heard her heavy breathing as she smelled the paper inside.
"So are you." I reminded her. "And here is the list you wanted. Your siblings, age's ten to five." She held back, not wanting to risk damaging the list. "And I have this." I shook the box so she could hear what was inside. "It's equal to eighteen million dollars if you take them to a pawn shop now. They were stolen from people all across Florida." She started to make little whining sounds. She ran in a brief circle around me. It was cute. "Tell me why I had to do that to the girl and it's yours."
Her entire body was shaking in desire. The words she used were not English. The sounds were an older tongue, one older than the Wizards Council, older than Juliet. Isabella clicked and popped, to agitated to try and speak like a human.
"There is one sin, one mortal sin that cannot be forgiven." She recited the words I had taught her long ago. "It is to blasphemy against the Holy Spirit. It is to see a miracle before your own eyes, and to call it a work of the Devil."
I smiled. "Perfect." I stroked back her hair with one hand, and she leapt back quick as she could. "And what are we?"
"Miracles!" She shouted. The harsh clicks and pops could be mistaken for anything if someone else heard. It was the language of those who hunt and kill men. No one could confuse this language with human speech. People must have heard that desperate shout. But not as the desperate cry of my daughter.
"That's right." I assured her. "To see us transform, to call it a work of the devil, is an unforgivable sin. So she can never tell anyone, or else they may lead her to the Pit." And I let her have it. Seventeen names, 18 million dollars. I provide for my children. Counting Isabella that would be a solid million each. Four times a year isn't too bad. Not many fathers can say the same.
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I dreamed about her again last night.
I ran through the woods. I howled in despair, hearing the hunting dogs at my back. I was a wolf. I was half a wolf and half a man. They had called me Demon.
Then I caught the scent. It was the scent of a human corpse. I walked slowly, my naked feet quick on the ground. The light of the sun shown down through the trees and onto my back as I followed the scent.
I never figured out why I followed the scent. I had men with silver at my back, and a corpse could give me nothing but a meal. But I had to follow the scent. Later I would call it grace. And it was the way away from town, anyway.
I found the corpse underneath a massive tree. It was safety, a place I could hide from the men who hunted me. It was a lucky break. I lay there and was silent, waiting for night to fall.
I curled up in a ball and tried not to smell the corpse. The girl was old and dry. Blond hair twisted about her body. I should have been horrified by sharing this place with a dead woman, but I was weirdly glad for the company.
We lay together in the roots of the giant tree for hours. I wondered if I would get sick if I ate her. I didn't see any maggots crawling about inside her, but the corpse looked old. It was strange, very strange.
She woke up as the sun fell and I changed again. Her eyes fixed on me. I was too shocked to move, and too scared to make a sound.
"Who sent you?" She asked me, propping herself up with one arm and giving me a once over. "Or do you just like watching dead girls sleep?" Her voice was far too loud for me to be comfortable.
"No one sent me. I just needed a place to hide, Lady." I kept my voice as low as I could. "Men with silver pursued me here.
"Have they got crosses?" She asked matter of factly. "Or the other usual stuff? Bibles, exorcism tools, priests who can quiet us?"
"No. They are just my village." I explained.
"Well they're nothing to worry about then, unless they're supported by something that can wreck more havoc than I can." She nonchalantly dismissed the threat of my hunters with a wave of her hand. "You can call me Juliet. What can I call you?"
"I'm just a mason." I whispered. It was getting cold.
I woke up in a cold sweat. I hadn't seen her in more than 60 years. Three centuries of this. Why couldn't I just forget about her?
My apartment was a simple affair. I could have afforded better, but I didn't need to. I mostly needed a place to sleep, shower, and keep what I needed. I looked over my life. Art supplies, textbooks, sets of clothing, and the first real addition in decades, a computer. I needed one now. I hated the things, but no teenager could pretend without one.
I needed to apologize to Isabella. The pup had to be taught a lesson, but now that lesson was over. Maybe I could find her a boyfriend, or get her a pony. Maybe even take her on a trip to hunt down the pony. She was growing up. She would like a hunt like that. Kids always like those trips. I would make it up to her. But I would have to wait, let her cool down. Right now she was playing Santa with my other children. She needed some time before I made things right with her. She had to feel needed for a little while.
And I had a job to do. Mason Greyback was going to seduce Alex Russo.
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"Sorry, I think you dropped this." I walked towards her with the paintbrush in hand. I had a smile on my face. I spoke as she put a paintbrush into a bowl of water. Her painting was nearly done, with the man in a Viking helmet riding a motor cycle already completed. It gave me a thumbs up, as if giving me permission to date his creator.
"No, that's not mine." Alex told me, turning from her easel to look at me. She gave me a smile.
"I know. I needed an excuse to come and talk to you." I told her truthfully. Never lie if you can help it. They get suspicious if you do.
Alex stared at me and moved very slowly as she took my paintbrush from me. Something about my approach was working this time. Her hand's short red nails held onto mine for a moment as she took it. It was almost like she forgot that it wasn't really her paintbrush. Then she made a little jerking motion as our hands separated. She was hot for me.
"It's quite lovely." I said softly. "What you're working on there." I pointed to the painting. I looked around briefly with genuine nervousness. I'd have to start over again if this failed, be delayed another couple weeks or more. I cracked another smile at her when she saw through me, and she returned it with a small laugh.
"So, ah um new British guy. How close are the countries British and England?" She moved away from me slightly to put down her washcloth breaking eye contact. I moved to follow her. She looked back at me when I started to answer.
"They're the same country." I couldn't believe she was that dumb. "And it's Britain not British." I moved my hands slowly, trying to access some visual aspect of her learning.
"I know." She let out with a small laugh. "I just think it's hilarious when people explain ridiculous things." She kept laughing. That was a good sign. I laughed with her.
Then Mr. Laritate rang a bell to interrupt us. "Speaking of ridiculous things." Alex rolled her eyes.
"Okay, holster your brushes all you hombres. I'm sure you all brought something new to compete in the art off."
Harper's hand was in the air, the girl was delighted to show off her work. I could see why, she was actually more talented than Alex, just in a different way.
"Art off is stupid. Just because Mr. Laritate picks a painting doesn't mean it's good." Alex told me as she opened a water bottle. I wondered if she knew that Mr. Laritate had minored in art at college. He actually knows his stuff, according to the school's records. The things you learn when deciding on intendeds can be useful elsewhere. "I mean look at him. He picks out those clothes.
"He doesn't pick those clothes. His mum lays them out for him." I said softly. She pushed her lips together to prevent from laughing loudly enough for Mr. Laritate to hear.
"Ah I like you new British guy." She said it as she gestured to me. "You're on my team." She said quickly as her hand came down
"My name's Mason Greyback." I took her hand and we shook.
"Mason Greyback. That sounds like the name of a game show host." Alex sat up straighter as she delivered her line. "Like, 'Mason Greyback I'll take bridges for a thousand please."
I took a small piece of shredded newspaper from a trashcan and improvised, holding my paint brush to my mouth like a microphone.
"Your question is, I think you're cute. What do you think of me?" Our eyes locked for a second, she answered in her own way.
"EH! We're out of time." She laughed, and I just had to smile back at her as she shook her head.
It hadn't gone this well in years.
The art off continued around us, but I really could not care less. The art off ended a moment later and the bell rang, class was over.
"You know, since I got here last Thursday I've noticed that he talks like a cowboy." I pointed my thumb over my back at Mr. Laritate. "Oh, and he likes cats."
"Hm, in America we call them kitty cats." Alex told me with a straight face.
"Okay, kitty cats."
"I made you say kitty cats." Alex told me with delight, laughing as she got her purse. Darn her laugh was infectious. This was where I made my next big move.
"How would you feel about going for some tea later? Then you can make me say all kind of things to make you laugh" My voice went quiet near the end, sounding a bit unsure.
"Okay, but if 'go for tea' doesn't mean 'date' than I'm going to be really embarrassed." Alex told me. I'd left that opening on purpose of course. She could have taken it anyway she wanted to.
"And that whole accent thing? Girls see right through it." And she looked away after taking a deep breath. "No they don't." Perfect.
This was one thing that I had perfected. Reaching out to my kids is something I can never do, but making new ones is something I've made an art out of.
Besides, I really liked this girl. I kind of wished I didn't have my mission. Otherwise she might have made a nice friend.
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I tore into the beast with my claws. The creature stared at me with three eyes, unable to understand what was killing her. But she was changing already, losing her power. We were locked in a deadly embrace, my strength holding her fading form fast. Werewolf teeth made short work of her throat, and without her power she could die just like any mortal could.
"What is that thing?" Isabella asked me. Her behind pointed up into the air as she got down on all fours to give the red blood and equally red flesh a proper sniff.
"It doesn't have a name. Name something and you can call it back. Never give them names." I told her. "Just kill them. That's what we are here for." And I left my daughter. Her heart was full of doubt. She needed a reminder. The corpses the thing left under the bed would be an ample reminder for any pup.
I shuddered, and called up my human form as I jumped out into the daylight. My feet hit the ground below, having fallen three stories. The moon hung in the sky, far from the sun.
I had a date today. I had three streets to walk in fifteen minutes. It was my first date with Alex Russo.
I am a mason. My children are bricks in the walls of the world. Each one shall hunt and kill the monsters. Alex will understand, eventually. She wouldn't have a chance not to. No abortionist uses silver tools to carry out his work, and it is so easy to break a condom without drawing suspicion. Worst case she would give up the child, but that is a hard thing for any mother.
I was doing the right thing. I had to be doing the right thing, because if I was wrong we were just another pack of monsters. Juliet had promised me that I was not a monster. And this was the only way I knew of that just might save the world.
We giggled as I finished my story on how afternoon tea became a British tradition.
"Mm, see I can tell this is fancy because my drink isn't fizzing." Alex happily pointed to her cup. It was impossible not to laugh at that.
"Okay, not it's my turn to show you an American tradition." Alex pulled out a pure white bucket as she talked. A white chalice, sometimes I think the world arranges symbolism just so I can get the joke.
"These are water balloons." I reached into the bucket and pulled out a small pink one. After that I had to suspect that she made metaphor on purpose.
"Ah, so you've heard of them." She said with the utmost seriousness. "Here's how Americans use them." And she pulled out a green balloon and left her seat, heading towards the wall of the roof. I was up quickly to follow her.
"Alright, victim in sight." Her eyes scanned the street below. "And bombs away, hide!" And we both ducked as she dumped her water balloon. She laughed as we heard an annoyed shout from below. "Okay, you're turn." She slapped me on the back.
"I'd love to, but it seems rude." I explained. I gazed deep into her eyes, keeping the most concerned face I could up. This was a good sign.
"No, that's the part that makes it American." She gestured about herself to indicate America. I smiled, faking capitulation. "Here, I'll show you how to do it." She took my arm and we ended up leaning over the street together, our hands holding over the water balloon with my other hand on her back.
"Now what do I do?" I asked, as she started reacting to being in such close proximity.
"Just drop it." She said quietly, not wanting to end the contact. Before she cheerfully helped me throw the water balloon with full force at a passing woman. That just felt disrespectful, even to me.
"We should run." I suggested, not wanting to get her into trouble.
"No, we should have a romantic montage!" Alex announced with a full look of excited seriousness on her face.
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I set it up well, the violin player, the cute and innocent boy act, and coming on just strong enough. I think it was one of my better seductions. I was able to learn a lot that first day. I did not think her family would prove a real obstacle. They were not overprotective. Maybe her elder brother, but he was off in his own world I didn't quite understand yet. I got the impression that I had to move quickly though. If he woke up and stood against me I might be seriously delayed.
There was one bit of concern. The redhead, she scared me. That's unusual for me. There was no reason for her to scare me. She was just an ordinary girl. But something about her freaked me out. And she was Alex's only friend. If anything would break this attempt it would be her.
That's what I thought until Max broke into my apartment that night. I was in full wolf mode, busy with my newest painting. Max must have picked the lock on my front door. I guess that I was caught up in my work, because I never heard him fumbling around. But the door was suddenly open, and Max stormed in.
"Hey, you're covered in hair now. You have got to show me how you do that." That was Max's way of greeting
"Um, yes, Max, I am covered in hair. It's, um, a secret." I muttered. At least he was just accepting it. I put my hands up in defense, just in case.
"Okay, I need to know what your intentions are when it comes to my sister." Max explained. What happened next was curious I had my lie all prepared. I always have my lies prepared. I opened my mouth to lie…
"I plan to get her pregnant and flee the country." I spat out. For some reason I could not stop myself.
Max frowned, his eyes in serious thought. "That's just sick dude." He looked me over. Then a short redhead knocked on the side of the open door.
"Tom, you said this wouldn't take long." A short girl with red hair looked at me. "You must be Mason. I'm Nancy Lucci." She thrust her hand forward with a look of supreme confidence.
"CeCe! Don't touch him!" Max grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back. "It's just my impression, but I don't think he's safe." He guided her away.
"Okay, I'll just wait out in the hall. But don't take too long, you said we were seeing the Eiffel Tower tonight." She marched back out into the hallway.
"Heh, girls, we're in New York. she's seeing the Washington Monument tonight." Max laughed. "I can't flash her all the way from Chicago to New York to Paris." He shook his head. "Girlfriends, what are you gonna do?" They so clearly deserved each other.
"Well, I do not know what you should do with your girlfriend. Understand I would never do anything to hurt Alex. I do what I have to do. She will thank me when she's older." I backed away just slightly, and Max had a confused look on his face.
"You're right. You wouldn't do anything to hurt my sister. But you're going to leave her, which would hurt her. So hurting her wouldn't leave her. I think I…" Max shook his head. "I'll be watching you, Mason Greyback. I will be watching you." And he left, shutting the door behind him. I locked it securely after him.
This interlude left me confused. I knew I had been telling the truth, but Max was right. Leaving her would hurt her. I was confused. Max had a tendency to leave me that way. I even had to wonder how you got the pet name "CeCe" out of "Nancy."
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"Hey, Mason. Check it out. I just bought the most horrible ridiculous painting ever and I'm going to volunteer it in the art off. I think it's going to be something we both find hilarious." Alex's way of greeting was infectiously cheerful.
"Well I've got something to show you too. I was up all night working on it. And I think it's one of my best." I kept myself serious, despite my urge to laugh hysterically. I knew what was underneath the cloth she had hung over her painting. A perfect match for the creation I had carried into class.
"Oh my gosh! Unveiling it in front of the whole class will be so romantic." Harper raced over, full of delight. This was even better than I had hoped.
"Or Mason and I could just show each other now." Alex suggested with an eye roll. Thankfully Harper shot the idea down before I had to step in.
"Don't rob me of my part of this romance." Harper was scary again, her eyes drilling into Alex, who stepped down. She only did that for Harper. I'd noticed that back when I was stalking Alex. Then Mr. Laritate rang his bell.
"Who's ready to face off in today's art off?" He asked, and Harper raised Alex's and my own hands. Mr. Laritate smiled at our contest.
"A Russo and our friend from across the pond." Mr. Laritate seemed pleased. "Or as I like to call it, the Revolutionary War Part Duh." And he pointed to fingers at us. Rather inconsiderate of him, as I'd fought in that war, and for his own side no less.
"Ah, ready, set, art off!" Mr. Laritate shouted, and we pulled our cloths from the paintings to reveal out masterpieces,
"Ooh somebody flush the toilet we've got a stinker over here." Alex pointed to her own painting of the Revolutionary War with dogs. My own painting showed Betsey Ross as a poodle.
"Calamity Jane!" Mr. Laritate's face was flushed with excitement. "We have identical themes!" He pointed to both out paintings with something like pride. "The revolutionary war and dogs."
"Oh my gosh. You bought the worst painting you could find too?" Alex correctly guessed, walking forward with a look of delighted amusement on my face. It was so hard to give her a puppy dog look of sorrow instead of bursting out laughing. But I do have experience with this. "We are the best art couple ever." She said to Harper.
"No, Alex. You're making fun of my painting. And I worked on it all night.
"That means I just called your painting horrible and ridiculous." Alex announced softly after sharing a look with Harper. Poor girl, but that was the plan, after all.
"You also said it belonged in the toilet." Mr. Laritate reminded her. Sometimes life gives you gifts you didn't plan on. I just gave my best sad face to her so she could feel extra guilty. This was exactly where I needed her.
"Okay, I know my laughing seems rude. But you see in America laughter is how we show our appreciation." Alex tried to cover for herself quickly. "Like, Mr. Laritate is a great teacher!" And she and Harper shared a horribly forced laugh. Harper was trying to help her, I think. "Or, or, Harper that's a great outfit." Alex unleashed another bout of forced laughter before covering her mouth at Harper's scowl and looking back at me sheepishly.
"Alex, I know you! And I know that you don't think either of those things are true!" I faked hurt anger for her.
"I think she thinks one of those things is true." Harper said with a surprising degree of confidence. "Sorry Mr. Laritate." She said as the two locked eyes. Too bad, Mr. Laritate deserved more credit than he got.
"You know why you don't like it?" I asked, keeping to my early planned script. "Because you don't understand it." I put my hands on my hips and nodded, doing my best to look like I had realized something deep. Harper whispered something into Alex's ear, and she looked back to me.
"Yeah! I, I don't get it. Can you explain it to me? Any part of it?" Oh how she hated it. I had chosen perfectly.
"It's not Betsy Ross. It's Barksey Ross." It took effort to devise such a bad line. "You see that's what I do. I take important moments from American history and I imagine what they'd be like from the point of view of canines. Because I'm in love with America, and dogs." I patted the painting I had gotten at the yard sale on the other side of town and gave it a loving look.
"Ooh. Psh. Now I get it!" Alex clapped her hands as she lied skillfully. "Yeah, what an amazing painting." Now my finishing touch was coming.
"I'm so glad you like it. See, now you get it. You just had to look a little deeper." I held up my hand with my fingers shaped to show "little" and winked at her. "This is so great." I said as I took her hands into my own. "Because I had an idea for my next piece. I'm going to paint a portrait of you." My excitement was real, though not for the reason she assumed. She shared a smile with Harper. "It will be your face as a cute teacup Chihuahua." I held out my hands to signify the greatness of my vision. "Sowing the stars and stripes." I gestured back to the "Barksey Ross" painting. "As if you were Betsy Ross." Harper held her hand over her mouth, making sure she didn't laugh. I was grateful, as the full impact of the scene required me to be able to keep on talking.
"Ah no, no, you don't, you don't have to do that. Nobody needs to see me as a dog, really." Alex tried to save herself.
"Dogs are my muse Alex. And I've already got the image in my head! I've got to get going on this!" And I ran out of the room. I couldn't keep myself from laughing for much longer.
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It would solidify the relationship, once she was honest with me. It would cut weeks off the time table. I had done it before. If I handled it just right we would become all the closer after this was done. I was getting closer and closer to the goal. To be honest it made me sad. I would miss her. I always try to find girls I liked to spend time with, but not many were as funny as Alex.
"Hello brown eyes, ready to be my doggie model?" I asked her. She got up from the steps in front of her shop, leaving an involved conversation with Harper. Her eyes really were something, with a deep almond shape and a delicious chocolate brown. They would be fun to paint, on a dog.
"Ah, just one second, my allergies are acting up." Alex told me as I pulled out my sketchpad. That sneeze changed my life.
It started seeing her hair, the back of her head. The black hair sparked something in me. And then she turned around and I saw her for the first time. The way she moved, the way her face was cut perfectly.
She was a Broken-Winged Crane, a beautiful creature that couldn't fly a creature to noble for a mortal body. She should have danced in the halls of the Fair Folk or marched in the Grand Army of the Wizard Council. Her face was one that should have been carved into the walls of Arctus Tor or been imprinted on the palace of the angels on the moon.
"I just had a most splendid idea!" I gasped, forgetting my goal of seduction and my master plan to save the world.
"I was pretty sure you might." Alex told me. Strange, but I had no time to care about those words. I rushed off to paint her image. I needed to be in my apartment, painting her.
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I stood at my easel, hard at work. I had to get her. There was a missing key here. I had to be missing something. There was no way that a mortal girl could have inspired this feeling inside me.
I was in a state of shock, I think. But can one be shocked into action like this? I had been painting for hours without rest, and I had not been happier in decades.
Only once in my centuries had I felt anything like this. Only for Juliet, the girl with eternal youth and endless power. She was the one who found me, saved my, gave me my mission in life. She was the one who taught me that I was not a monster. Only that gratitude had ever roused this feeling before.
Damn it, I was in love! Not admiring her, not befriending her, not locked in intercourse. There was something in her eyes I could not capture, a grace that could not be placed or understood.
I painted for hours. I tried different styles, different methods, different angles, it didn't help. They were all beautiful, but none were Alex. I didn't know her. That was the only way to truly paint her, to know what I was painting. So I gathered my paintings and returned to her house. I had to talk with her.
Finally I finished, and I returned to Waverly Sub Station, taking a taxi so I could carry my precious painted cargo. I knocked on the door hurriedly.
"Come in!" Alex shouted. The door was thankfully unlocked. I had to see her.
"Oh, there you are my love." It was wonderful to say it and mean it. Love. "All of these are of you." I panted, setting them down on the table in front of her couch. "I don't know which one's my favorite, but they're all good." I was out of breath, not from the journey, but it was hard to breathe right. It was just so good to paint them.
"Wow, they're beautiful." Alex told me, looking appreciating at my work.
"And the moment I started I couldn't stop. When I paint you something just comes over me." I tried to explain my feelings to her, but words were just so inadequate. I hoped that my paintings would show it better. "It feels, it feels…"
"Magical." Harper suggested.
"Yes." Harper was right. "Magical." That is exactly how it felt, like magic.
"Did you hear that? I'm sure that there's not just these but probably hundreds and hundreds of, and there they are." Harper picked up my sketch pad and pointed to all the other designed I hadn't liked quite as much, or hadn't had time to perfect. I looked at them lovingly, wondering if I could find a way to make them perfect.
"Ah hey, it's you again." Alex's father walked into the room. "Is it Martin or Jason?"
"It's Mason." I told him.
"Wasn't that one of the choices?" He asked before turning to my paintings. "Wow, these are great. You can hardly see the numbers." I guessed that Max inherited something from him.
"Alex is my muse." I announced, and got down on my knees in front of her. "My inspiration, all I want to do is paint her." I said truthfully.
"Yep, it's like he's under her spell." Harper said, her frightening eyes were saying something, but at this point I didn't care.
"Yes! I only wish I could paint Alex on a bigger canvas. And I think I've got an idea. Excuse me." I got onto my feet and ran outside. I could use chalk, and the sidewalk outside, to try and capture her form.
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I stood on the sidewalk, the chalk in my hands. A few minutes of working later she came out.
"What do you think? Do you like it?" I asked hopefully, gesturing to my drawing of her.
"It's, it's great. It's really great." She told me. She shook her head. Something was bothering her, but I wasn't sure what. Wouldn't she want me to paint her?"
"That's so good, because I really want you to like it." Oh how I did.
"You're beautiful, and I'm going to keep painting you." And I returned to the street to continue my work.
"Well why don't we take a break and we can go get you a sandwich or something." She asked, grabbing my arm and trying to lead me away from the picture.
"No time for eating!" I shouted. "Right there, the light is hitting you perfectly." She looked confused, but it was true. "I wanna do a bigger chalk drawing of you over here, in profile." And I shoed away a couple of girls standing where I wanted to draw her before I started my next drawing.
"So is this just what you're going to be doing from now on?" Alex asked me. I looked up into her wonderful eyes.
"I hope so." I said with all my heart, before I dove back once again into my art. "We are the ultimate art couple." Then lightning struck, and a thunderstorm started. It seemed strange, how fast it started raining. And for a moment I thought I saw Max waving a stick in the corner of my eye, but he was unimportant. What was important was the art.
"No! I have to redraw this as it washes away!" I announced. "The more it washes away the faster I have to draw!"
"Okay, that is just wacky." Alex announced as I went down to her drawing. I think something in her words knocked some sense back into me, or maybe it was hearing her cough. I realized just how stupid I was being.
For the first time in centuries I had a new chance at something real. I could stay with her. I could rob stores a hundred miles away, and she could have litters of children. I could defend her until she was old and gray, or even find a way to keep her alive forever. There was ways, if you search deep enough. And I've been around long enough to find them. I had to make sure I kept Alex. The Wizards Council could never know.
"Are you okay?" I asked her after she coughed. "You sound like you've got a bit of a chest cold. We need to get you out of this rain and inside. I started bringing her in.
"Wait." She turned to me. "So you're done drawing me?" She smiled warmly at me.
"Yeah, I feel like painting some dogs." I joked. The plan maybe over, but it was still a viable way to keep getting closer to her.
"Good, good, you should do that. But kiss me first." Something about the earlier steps of the plan must have worked.
"But you have a cold." I joked.
"Just kiss me." And I did, hugging her. That was when the rain washed up just a touch of an old smell from the pavement, wafting into my nose. the smell of vanilla masking the scent of death. A scent only one creature I had ever known used.
I hugged Alex, feeling something horrible rise in my chest.
Juliet had been on Waverly Place.