La Dolce Vita
By Seniya
A is for Arrival
A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.
Lao Tzu
Susan DuPont was a sort of novelty in the small town of Heatherfield. She had arrived there about eight years before, incredibly conspicuous in a bright red Ferrari packed to the point of overflowing with boxes and bags. She had driven straight through the town's main road, her stereo calling even more attention to herself, and stopped at the recently deceased Mrs. Martin's old house. She then proceeded to outrage the neighbours who had pressed themselves next to windows and doors to get a good look, by walking up to the door, going inside and staying there.
She had been outraging them ever since.
Ms. DuPont was unmarried – strange, especially in a town filled mostly with old couples and young families. Furthermore, she had no children and apparently no ambition to change either of those facts. Facts that caused the females of Heatherfield eternal worry – a husband missing: Ms. DuPont; a fiancé who suddenly had a change of heart: Ms. DuPont. It was clearly frustrating.
Not that Susan noticed their frustration. Or really, anything other than herself. It was expected. She was, quite frankly, stunning, with long ebony hair, smooth golden skin and wide spaced brown eyes. A professional model in her younger days, she had graced the catwalks of Milan and Paris before she committed the cardinal sin of the fashion industry. She'd gotten pregnant. Susan had disappeared after that. Resurfacing years later as a writer of trashy "chic-lit", penning tales of vapid females obsessed with sex, clothes and money. It seemed to make her happy.
Heatherfield didn't.
The place was too small. The people were too small minded. She longed for the hustle of New York, the buzz of Paris – but, year after year, she stayed. Leaving only for exotic vacations and long book tours.
Yes, she definitely kept the neighbour's talking.
Really, nothing had ever stirred their attention like she did. Not even when Sheriff Lair's daughter was caught – in a compromising position – with Alvin Martin in the church's basement one Sunday morning, or even when Katrina Peters tried to elope with a man three times her age. Nothing, had ever come close to dethroning Susan DuPont, until one weekend – when her daughter arrived.
Wilhelmina Chanel Vandom, had been named after the modelling agency that had signed her mother at age seventeen, her middle name came from her mother's favourite designer and her last name came from a father that she had only met five years ago. Will, as she preferred to be called, hated all three of those names.
She was short for sixteen and thin in a way that made it seem as though puberty had bypassed her without a second glance. She had given herself a haircut in the spring, making her bright red hair (possibly her only selling point) fall in a crooked bob around her ears. Wilhelmina was also freckled and pale and (because one must wonder about the personality of such a pitiful looking girl) she had the disturbing tendency to swear like a solider.
She wasn't friendly either.
The daughter had arrived in Heatherfield a mere eight minutes ago, driven through the town's main road in a yellow taxi, stopped at Mrs. Martin's old house and gotten out. By now, the neighbour's had taken in every detail; the freckles, the oversized "Home Depot" T-shirt, the tattered jeans and the two duffle bags at her feet.
They watched, transfixed, as she climbed the stairs to the veranda and pressed the doorbell.
Ding dong.
Susan came then, clad in a silk night gown, looking completely worse for wear.
Mrs. Davids who lived across the street, disapproved, "It's nearly noon," she spoke to Mrs. Hale, pushing the lace curtain back all the while. "Oh fudge...I can't even hear what they're talking about."
"Who is the girl?" Mrs. Hale was at her daughter's ballet recital, a rather dull affair in comparison to the latest adventure of Ms. Susan DuPont.
"I have no idea. She might be family...but Susan has never had any visitors before."
"How old is she? Maybe it's one of her New York friends."
"No. She's at least fourteen."
"Fourteen? Doesn't she know that young girls aren't supposed to be out so late? I'd never let either of my girls by themselves at this hour. You've heard about Mrs. Boyce's girl, haven't you?"
"Oh yes! It's so tragic! The sweetest thing too! Used to sit right in front of me at church."
"Our town is changing. It isn't the same place as when I was a girl. I could walk around at any hour and –"
"Oh wait... She's going inside! Fudge!"
"What is it?"
"They locked the door."
There were no words that described the overwhelming sensation of relief that overcame Aldarn as he clamoured over the massive castle walls. He imagined that he should be accustomed to this by now—it was a job that he had been doing willingly for three years—but each time, the trepidation only worsened. Anyone suspected of being a spy in the King's palace was executed immediately. He risked his life everyday by going into that castle, but sometimes, like today, something happened that made him recall exactly why he was still willing.
It wasn't a long journey from the palace gate to the rebellion's headquarters. Actually, if King Phobos actually discovered that the source of his worries lay less than a mile away from his home, he would go blind with rage.
It was unusually bright this night. Both moons were full and long shadows darkened the earth wherever their light saw it fit to touch. He used this darkness to his advantage, darting from shadow to shadow; an invisibility cloak of sorts.
"Caleb!" He spoke only when he arrived at a massive stone wall, it was past curfew, he was certain—they would need to hurry. He pressed his body closer to the rock, "Caleb! Cum laude! Open! Damn you! Cum laude!"
In a moment the stone moved away and Aldarn was swallowed up by the darkness. "Fool! Blurting out the password like that! Anyone could have heard..."
"Caleb!" He attempted to push past the aggravated Baldon, a massive ginger headed man with legs as thick as tree trunks, but was held back with a single backwards stroke of the giant's arm. "Release me! I have news from the palace."
Baldon studied Aldarn's excited face quietly, the rebel before him was young, rash and quick tempered. This wasn't the first time that he had come rushing into the hide-out with some snippet of gossip that he'd overheard, expecting Caleb to formulate some ridiculous plan based purely on rumour. "Aldarn, quiet yourself. Caleb is speaking with those stationed in the East. They have some information about the disappearances."
"So do I!" Aldarn protested, but he stopped struggling beneath the other man's arm.
"What have you heard? Tell me." The space about them was narrow, made that way so that large groups couldn't pass through at once, a method of protection.
"I..." Aldarn hesitated, considering that Baldon had been with their group for little over a month—not nearly long enough to qualify one to hear top secret information, even if Caleb did trust him. "I'll wait."
Only a slight tick in his cheek betrayed Baldon's true feelings about being overlooked so casually by the boy, but rather than comment, he only indicated with a slight nod of his head. A sudden brightness infiltrated the dark corridor and Baldon muttered, "Well, there he is Aldarn."
Wilhelmina Vandom was having an awful year. Well really, it had been an awful decade, with a lucky break here and there, but it always somehow culminated with the shit hitting the fan, and poor Will, being covered in it from head to toe.
Presently, she was too tired to consider her soon to be shit-bath, having just disembarked from a three hour flight, only to spend another two hours in an over congested bus, and a final forty minutes standing stupidly in a bus terminal, waiting for her mother, who had apparently decided not to show up to said bus terminal. So she had been forced to take a taxi. A taxi that smelled like 1985, with a driver that looked as though he had jumped out of America's Most Wanted.
She wasn't surprised. Pissed; yes. But not surprised.
At sixteen Will had seen her mother a total of nine times throughout her entire life; a few birthdays, two Christmases and one other time when she'd been "passing through" Texas on her way to Mexico. To have to be sent to North Carolina to live with the woman (albeit for a mere six months) was a complete slap in the face. In fact, when she'd voiced her protests to her father last week, he'd wholeheartedly agreed, but had told her to "stick it out" since she was their "only option".
It was amazing that Susan agreed to this in the first place, Will thought. Obviously, she didn't want a child; she'd shipped Will off to her grandparents when she was just eight months old and given up custody without being asked to some years later.
And now here they both were; the victims of fate it seemed. Staring at each other wordlessly in the pepto-bismol pink dining room that was covered as much as any room could be in pictures of its owner, they wondered exactly how the Gods of genetics could have been so unkind.
In the background, a lanky, dark haired teenager hustled about behind them. Shirtless, Will noted, her large brown eyes followed the boy's every move until they stopped at her mother's side.
"So...ummm...Ms. DuPont...I'll call..."
"It's fine John." She snapped.
"I'm Kevin," his voice cracked when he spoke, the disappointment was evident.
"Yes...of course...I'm just...I'm busy today...could I talk to you later?" If the fact that her daughter had intruded upon her and her teenaged lover bothered her, Susan had the grace not to show it.
"Yeah...yeah...um...D'you want me to go out the back?" Kevin inquired.
"It doesn't matter."
He nodded his head stiffly, his Adam's apple bobbing with every movement. Finally, his eyes fell on Will. "Um...it's nice to meet you..." He outstretched his hand.
"I'll bet." Will ignored the hand, ignored the boy and focused her attention on the woman in front of her who looked as though her entire world had just coming crashing down.
"I'll...I'll leave then." Unaccustomed to such rudeness, Kevin picked up his shirt from the floor and rushed out towards the back.
"Wilhelmina," Susan pulled her face from out of her hands, "I'm so sorry. I had no idea that you were coming today."
"Obviously not." Will pressed her back further into the lime green chair, "or I suppose you might have cleared out your harem."
"Wilhelmina, that's not fair."
"It's Will, please and thank-you."
Sighing heavily, Susan got to her feet and walked to the kitchen, stumbling around the mess of dirty dishes in order to find a clean cup for her afternoon Vodka. "I don't know why you insist on that name...Wilhelmina is elegant...classy...where is the damn...."
"Because you know so much about class. Didn't you name me after the hand that fed you?"
"Just stop it!" She'd found the vodka, and now she bounded from the kitchen, Grey Goose in hand, absolutely fuming, "I have never told you that I was perfect! Never! And all you do, all you have ever done is blame me for everything!"
Will sat perfectly still throughout the tirade, she wasn't prone to loud outbursts, preferring to make sarcastic remarks before and after these lengthy speeches. "Because clearly, you're guiltless."
"I am your mother! Don't you dare come into my house and talk to me as if I'm just some..."
"Slut?" Will interjected, when her mother stopped speaking, when the Grey Goose slipped from her hand and said hand collided with her cheek, she knew that she'd crossed a line.
"This is my house."
Will didn't reply.
"And don't you dare..."
"It's just six months. Don't worry; I'll be gone soon enough." She grabbed her backpack from the floor and ran past the woman, who seemed too shocked by her actions to move.
Once out in the warm summer evening, Will hoisted her backpack onto her shoulders and realized just what she should have noted since she'd arrived in this god-forsaken town.
She was utterly and completely alone.
The rebellion's headquarters were completely underground, a wild maze of rooms and traps juxtaposed frighteningly close together. Caleb's personal chambers were massive in comparison to the others. It wasn't decorated and there was a bed in the corner, but every spare inch was covered in furs and maps, armours and swords. But the title personal was more of a formality. Caleb spent the majority of his time in that room with dozes of persons surrounding him. Here is where he held his meetings, where strategies were discussed and decisions were made.
"A rip in the veil?" His voice was low, incredulous. He was tired and discouraged and longed to just crawl into his bed and fall asleep. But he couldn't – so he didn't show it. It was a weak thought and the others would pounce on him for it.
"More and more are appearing each day..." Aldarn, however, was excited, his young face gleamed with barely suppressed pride, "...according to Phobos."
Caleb thought briefly, "I have also heard rumours about these rips, and if they are real, then I do not doubt that it's where the missing have ventured to...but why does it concern Phobos? He has shown more than one time that he doesn't care about his people."
Aldarn licked his dry lips excitedly, "he thinks that his sister is alive; and that she lives beyond this world, on the other side."
"Phobos' sister did not live past infancy, if even for so long." It was Baldorn who spoke now. He had been silently watching the exchange with interest, waiting for his turn to speak.
"That is not what he says. He plans to send an entire army to Earth to search for her. He wants her badly. He is nearly desperate."
Caleb grew silent then; he was thinking, Aldarn knew, considering the odds and then planning ways to overcome any impediments. He added in his opinion quickly. "If we were to find this girl first—she could be used as leverage. Or even, if she possesses something...some power that Phobos wants..."
"It isn't that." Caleb interjected; his deep green eyes were suddenly sombre. "A female sibling would be the true heir to the throne. Meridian's Queen. Phobos wants the girl dead so that he may protect his throne."
Aldarn nodded, his disappointment was not easily concealed by the flickering candlelight. Truthfully, he had never stopped to consider that option.
"If Phobos seeks his sister, then so must we. We need to find her first—she is our rightful ruler, a light of hope for our people to rally behind."
"Absolutely not!" Baldorn spoke again. "Phobos knows that spies lie listening in his castle. How can we trust this?"
"If it is true, then how can we let is slip past us?" Caleb got to feet and began to walk about his room. It was a hard decision to make.
"This is absurd! And dangerous. We cannot take the risk. A journey to Earth? We...We do not even know if it is safe, much less how to return when the time comes!"
"Relax Boldorn."
"Relax?"
"Caleb!" The tension was cut sharply with the entrance of another spy. He was young, as were most, and covered in sweat and dust from his journey. "I bring news from the South! A thousand of Phobos' personal guard have vanished near the Forest of Gerild."
"Vanished?"
"Yes. The reports are saying...they were...they fell into a bright light and were no more."
Aldarn nodded, his voice was rich with glee. "There is your proof."
"Nana!" It was nearing the end of summer. The evenings were getting colder now and the days were getting shorter. Stubborn to prolong the relaxation and simplicity of the season, Hay Lin had gotten up early this morning, a Saturday, and set off towards Hale Pond. She had spent the entire day there with her Labrador, Toad, immersed in the crisp, cool water. It was on her way back that she had noticed something that ruined the simplicity all by itself.
Toad by her side, she sprinted up the hill to her grandmother's restaurant, a poster crumpled in her fist. "Nana!" She yelled again when she touched the stairs to "The Red Dragon".
"Nana!"
"What?" Her grandmother met her half-way. She was dressed casually, obviously she had come from the kitchen; her long silk dress was covered with an apron. "Stop the yelling child! And you are late! I have four orders that need to be delivered! Look at you! You're dripping wet! Where are your shoes—"
"Nana, there's been another one." She pulled out the crumpled poster and began to unfold it. "Her name is Lydia Boyce. She's fifteen. Her mother says that she went missing on Wednesday."
Yan Lin clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Damn it. It's Lillith. I know it."
"What's she gonna do to them?"
"Who knows. She's sick. Twisted. She might eat them. Take their place so that she can eat us." She began to remove her apron. "Rest assured, there will be some eating involved."
Hay Lin wrinkled her nose, "Why?"
"She's the queen of the demons. It's just how she gets her kicks. Get the compass. We'll need to hurry."
It was a small fucking town, Will noticed. Somehow that fact hadn't registered even as she had read the "Pop. 1545" beneath the "Welcome to Heatherfield" sign when she had driven past it this morning. She had, Will imagined, seen all of the sights in her brisk thirty minute walk around town. There were two churches, three schools, four restaurants and a movie theatre. Wow.
There was also an ice-cream stand, where the lady who owned it swore that everything was home-made. Will didn't believe her, knowing that underneath the table probably stood a hundred empty cartons of "Baskin Robins". But she liked ice cream, and the old lady serving it seemed to be preoccupied with the radio playing "The Beatles" behind her. Besides, it was getting dark and she didn't have any where else to go. She sat by the stall swallowing her ice cream, wondering just how long these six months would take. Or maybe, her dad would get off before that time, and she could get the hell out of Dodge.
"Well, good evening little lady."
Crap. Will dug her spoon further into her cup, "Good evening." She muttered, but didn't look up.
"Martha! How're you doing?" He greeted the woman behind the counter and she replied briefly before returning to humming the chorus of "Let It Be".
He began humming along as well, good naturedly chuckling when he realized that he didn't really know the tune. "I'll take two scoops of strawberry." He sighed heavily, "It's been a rough day. Been talking to Mrs. Boyce, she's real broken up over Lydia. Wish there was something more I could tell her...but it's just like she vanished into thin air."
Lydia. That sounded familiar. Will's eyes travelled over to the side of the Ice Cream stand. Stapled there were four posters, each depicting the smiling face of a teenaged girl. Lydia was at the top. Missing. Interesting.
She finally looked over to her dinner companion. A big, bulging man, the only thing interesting about him was the Sheriff badge tacked onto his shirt.
"Four girls in two weeks, the town's in a panic. I hear CNN wants to fly in and do a report. I just don't know if the town can handle the publicity."
"But people always go missing around here." Will put in. "In the fifties, about half of the town disappeared for two weeks and then reappeared without an idea of what had happened to them. Sixteen years ago twenty people went missing and they still haven't returned."
"Well, hello there little lady." He seemed genuinely surprised that she could talk. "Now how'd you find out all of that?"
"Books," She shrugged.
"I don't think that I've seen you around here before."
"That's because you haven't."
"Sharp little tongue you've got there." He laughed, "reminds me of my Irma. She'd be a little older than you, but I always say, your mouth will be your undoing."
Will didn't reply, choosing instead to shove another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.
"You here by yourself?"
"Yeah."
"It's getting late."
"I noticed."
"Let me give you a ride home."
"It's fine."
"Now, now. It isn't. I can't let it get to five girls in two weeks. Not on my watch."
"It's fine." Realising that he would only pester her until she gave into his request, Will got to her feet, carrying her bowl in one hand and her backpack in the other. "It's like five minutes. I can take care of myself."
He watched as she took off, his eyes followed her until she turned around the first corner.
"Martha, I'll be back in a minute. Let me just make sure this little lady gets home alright."
"Maybe we need more chicken blood."
Hay Lin didn't particularly like this part of helping her grandmother. Right now, it was half past eleven and they were in Heatherfield's only cemetery, having just stunned the watchman, standing beside a giant pot that whistled and steamed without any fire.
"No more damn chicken blood." Yan Lin was growing annoyed. This was taking too long. Why was the magic so weak tonight?
Her granddaughter flipped through the book in her hands, "maybe you need more dirt?"
"No! If we take any more dirt from Mrs. Martin's grave, we'll have to bury her again."
"Well, then I dunno how to fix the summoning spell." She sat down on top of a tombstone. "I'm tired. I wanna go to bed and Mom says that I have to go to school tomorrow 'cause she can't do it on Monday."
"The compass..." She shook the device in her hand, the needle inside spun uncontrollably. "It hasn't behaved like this since..."
"Well Yan Lin," From out of the hissing metal pot rose a face, distorted by steam, but frightening all the same. "What is it now?"
"Ah, Lillith." Yan Lin took great care to hide the compass behind her back. "There is no need for formalities. You old whore, just give us back the girls you stole and we won't have to waste any more time chasing you down and stabbing you in that dusty old chest of yours."
"Getting old Yan Lin. What is this? A new philosophy? When in doubt, blame Lillith?"
"Stop the foolishness! I'll ask you one last time. Where are those girls?"
"Think about it Yan Lin! Aren't these children a little old for me?"
"I wasn't kidding..."
"Everyone in the Underworld can see what is happening here! Your enemies come from another direction. Another world. You can come after me, if you wish. But I won't lie. It'll be a waste of your time."
She was gone in the next instant.
Hay Lin looked to her grandmother, who was still focused on the compass in her fist. "Is she telling the truth?"
Her eyes never left the compass. "Rule number one: never trust a demon."
"So we're going after her?" They had gone to Hades before—she still had the bruises from the sixth circle of Hell.
"No." Yan Lin pocketed the compass and turned to face her granddaughter. "Pack up the ingredients and don't forget the book."
"What about Lillith?"
"It's not her."
"But I thought..."
"Have I ever told you about the guardians of the veil?"
Author: I'm home for Christmas. Gonna try and write a lot of everything to keep you guys entertained. So keep me entertained with reviews. Hehehehe. Yes, I've given Hay Lin a sort of ghost hunter job. I think it suits her and Yan Lin. Ummmm...and I've given Will mommy issues and I think you guys may have noticed some references to the other girls. Will's character isn't really so different it's just the situation that she's in right now, once the others come around, you'll see her falling back into that vulnerable, shy type. I haven't changed the basis of the plot so much, Will is going to have a sword instead of a necklace, but other than that, it's the same stuff. Oh, and Will x Caleb, because I ship that like it's going out of fashion.
Next: B is for Beginnings