Katrina rolled her eyes and headed into the kitchen. She heard the shower come on as she set about making something to eat, making extra for Scara to have later. After she was done, she sat on the floor before the couch and switched on Castle, a murder mystery series.
Several hours later, a scream from the bedroom made her look up in confusion. She got up and walked over to the door before lightly knocked her knuckles against the wood. "Hey... You okay?"
Jumping up, Scara darted to the door and yanked it open, hair swirling around her. Seeing Katrina alive and well, albeit surprised and confused, Scara snatched her close, relieved. She held the girl tight, trembling with fading adrenaline and breathing shakily as she tried to slow her thumping heartbeat.
Katrina wasn't dead. Amenhapu was. That was in the past; this was the present. Katrina wasn't Amenhapu; Scara was protecting her. She was still alive...
Katrina blinked in confusion. "Scara... ?"
Abruptly remembering how little she wore, Scara shoved the girl to arm's length.
"Nightmare," she explained, voice gruff and raw from the scream. "Nothing more. Forget about it." With that, she quickly closed the door and leaned against it, flushing deep red in embarrassment.
Katrina simply stared at the door for a few moments before she snapped out of it and shook her head.
Then she recalled the warm flesh that had been pressed against her moments ago and shivered. Oh... The girl definitely had all the right curves to fit in her book. Little taller than she was used to... She shrugged; she had no problems with that. In fact, it made her that much hotter.
She realized where her train of thought was going and facepalmed before returning to the living room. "The hell am I thinking...?"
Gods, she was going to have to get her act together before she made the mistake of a lifetime. Going to the window, she peeked out to discover there were still two hours till sunset, at least. Hissing at the burn on the backs of her fingers and her scarred cheek, she began grumbling in ancient Egyptian as she picked out clothes from the bag Taylor had brought her.
She slid into a pair of off-black cargo pants that hugged her waist and hips, gathering in perfect clumps at her ankles, and threw on a slightly short blood red cami that almost immediately slid up to reveal a thin band of skin over the hem of her pants. Then she pulled her hair back in a high ponytail and washed her face before going out past the living room to the kitchen for something to eat.
Meat. That's what she needed. And not the fine piece of ass sitting in her living room. She took a box of chicken wings and drumsticks from the fridge and tossed it in the microwave for a few minutes, not seeing anything else in her need to taste flesh. While that heated up, she went around the apartment and double-checked all the shades to make sure absolutely no sun got in, avoiding even looking at Katrina.
The blue eyed descendant raised a curious brow at her, but didn't question aloud. At least until she was done checking all the shades. "Did I do something to piss you off?"
"I don't know, you tell me," she snipped sarcastically, going back into the kitchen as the microwave pinged. "I mean, you're the one who approached me at the bar, you're the one who attracted those idiot Daimons, you're the one who got herself killed and had to be resurrected by a freaking god or something, and you're the one who careened into my life and threw everything out of balance..." Taking her food out of the microwave, she tossed it down on the counter in annoyance and popped open a large bottle of Jack Daniels Honey, drinking straight from it and savouring the heady burn followed by soft sweetness.
Katrina rolled her eyes. "...bitch." She muttered under her breath.
Scara snorted, taking drink and food into the living room and setting them down on the coffee table. Snatching up the remote, she changed the channel until Bones came up. Shoving Katrina's legs out of her way, she sat and leaned toward her.
"Right back at you," she said deliberately. Then she picked up the bottle again and sat back, taking a swig as she rested her arm across the back of the couch and propped her feet on a corner of the table.
Katrina rolled her eyes again and smiled a little as she snagged a drumstick and took a nice bite into it.
Casting a glare in her direction, Scara lifted her legs and set them down between Katrina and her food, creating a pseudo-barrier.
A quiet buzz from the bedroom drew an aggravated sigh from her lips and she stood, setting the bottle down.
"Don't touch my food," she warned. "Unless you want to become my food." She curled her lips to display a fang before disappearing into her room to find the cellphone Taylor had given her. He was the one calling, of course. "What do you want, kid?"
"Oh please," he giggled good-naturedly. "Call me Tay."
"You've got three seconds to tell me what you want, Macbeth, before I hang up," she scoffed.
"Just wondering if you were going to take Trina shopping," he said cheerily. "Jenny wants her dress back, and Trina needs a good wardrobe anyway."
"How about, no." Scara went back to the living room and held the phone out to Katrina. "Give him your address and he'll pick up some clothes for you."
Katrina laughed. "Only if he wants his internals handed to him on a silver platter by a Greek Scotsman, who's probably starting to lose his mind on where I am." She took the phone and put it to her ear. "Don't worry about it, I need to tell my brother I'm fine anyway."
"You have a brother?" Both Scara and Taylor asked, surprisingly at the same time.
"Yeah. Older. Gay and last I heard, on the verge of breaking up with his boyfriend. From what I hear every couple nights, pretty damn good in bed, too."
Taylor let out happy squeal. "Oh! What's his name? Better yet, what's his number?!"
"Taylor," Scara snapped, taking the phone back with a glare at Katrina. "I'll say this once, and only once, so pay attention. Keep your personal life out of work; got it? I don't give a damn who you fuck, but not on my time, understood?"
"Yikes... Yes, ma'am," Taylor answered. "Um... Does that mean I can't accompany you escorting Trina home?" Scara pinched the bridge of her nose, jaw working as she tried not to growl.
"Fine," she managed past gritted teeth. "If you're here by sunset, you can come with." Ending the call, she tossed the phone on the coffee table and picking up her bottle again as she sat. "I fucking hate you right now..."
She gave the older woman an innocent look. "Did you mean that to me or him?"
"Both," she growled, taking a hearty gulp and exchanging the bottle for a wing that she set between her teeth to pick up her phone and text Taylor.
We're taking my car; if you're not in it in she glanced at the clock at the top of the screen twenty minutes, you're not going.
She'd barely locked the phone before he sent a reply.
Got it; c u in 15. Snorting, she dropped the phone in her lap and bit into the wing.
The younger snorted in amusement. "I seem to have a talent for that."
"I noticed," Scara said blandly. Finishing the wing and grabbing a drumstick, she stood again and went to the bedroom for shoes and a jacket, returning for the last drumstick and another hearty dose of Jack Daniels. Then she checked the time and turned off the TV. "In the car; let's go."
"What am I? A dog?" Katrina retorted, but got up and dusted the back of the borrowed dress anyway.
"Yeah, a bitch," Scara reminded, waving her hand dramatically as she opened the door. "After you, princess." Taylor's green-decal-on-black Mustang pulled up to the curb at that moment, loud music thrumming through the stereos and turning off with the engine before the Squire himself jumped out wearing a sexy off-black button-up tucked into tan slacks, both of which set off his dark-tanned skin nicely. His dark brown, almost black hair, was tousled and he tried to tame it by running a hand through it once or twice, then pushing his sunglasses up as he bounced over, grinning like a madman.
"Ladies," he greeted. "Glad I made it."
"I'm not," Scara said blandly. "Get in the car, both of you, before I leave both your asses."
Katrina looked to Taylor and shook her head as she rolled her eyes. The squire simply shrugged before all three piled into Scara's car.
"Oh, his name's Demetrius by the way," Katrina told the only male in the car.
"Ooh, sounds sexy indeed," Taylor crowed, lounging in the back seat. "Hope he doesn't mind flirting right off the bat."
"Don't feed the headache," Scara growled, glaring at him in the rearview. "It's bad enough already."
"You know, if you loosen up a bit, it won't be so bad," he pointed out. "Maybe get a massage, a good soak in a hot tub..."
"Cracking your head against a wall," she added. "Yeah, sounds great." He made a face at her.
"Yeh, very funny," he said, but mercifully kept his mouth shut after that as Katrina directed the Dark-Huntress through the city.
Katrina snickered at Taylor's suggestion. "I would have added 'get laid' cause it's a really good stress reliever, actually."
"Oh gee, thanks," Scara scowled. "Remind me of the one thing I can't do that I need more than anything because I'm stuck with cock-blockers." She passed a sharp glare at Katrina this time. "I can't leave you alone long enough for that or Acheron will have my hide. I rather like it right where it is, so I get to be a nun for the next week and a half."
Katrina glanced at the date on her phone. "The twenty-ninth is actually five days from now." She clicked the screen off. "Hopefully we find out what the other bloodline is before then."
Scara only humphed, and said nothing else until they pulled up in front of Katrina's place. She parked and got out, glancing around almost automatically for Daimons or other threats.
Katrina made straight for the door and didn't get far inside before she was tackled and hugged close to the brown hair, hazel eyed, overworked big brother. She grinned and hugged him back.
"Hey Deme!"
Demetrius then held her at arm's length with a slight glare in his face. "Just where in God's green acres have you been?! I was just about to call in a missing person report!"
Katrina rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. "It's a long story..."
"I can see that." He deadpaned, looking down at the blue dress.
The girl blushed. "Shut up. This was not my idea for clothes."
The twenty-eight year old simply rolled his eyes before looking up to the other two in the doorway. "And just who are you two?"
"Hopefully your next bedmate," Taylor purred, eying him up and down with a smirk. Scara release a low growling sigh through her nose and elbowed him in the gut, hard. Gasping, he bent double, wincing.
"Next time," she warned, "it'll be lower." Gray-green eyes widened and his hands shot to his groin.
"Anywhere but there!" She gave him a look and he darted between Katrina and Demetrius, putting his hands on Katrina's shoulders to make sure she was between him and Scara. "Save me, Trina; she can't kill you..."
"Who said anything about killing?" Scara scoffed. "I don't kill anyone who doesn't attack me first." Taylor breathed a sigh of relief. "I just make people wish they were dead." He paled again.
Katrina rolled her eyes. "Just leave him alone. He is the one doing all the daytime runs for you."
Demetrius didn't look impressed. At all.
"Yeah, just be glad you're my assignment," the Dark-Huntress chuffed, crossing her arms and leaning against the hood of her car. "I wouldn't hesitate to rip through both of you." Taylor managed a passable laugh.
"Somehow, I rather doubt that," he said. "Acheron wouldn't allow it; besides, you swore an oath, remember?"
"Keep believing that, snowflake," she returned, but this time he could see the slight gleam of amusement in her eyes. He scoffed in relief, pressing a hand to his chest.
"God, Se, you scared me half to death!" he scolded.
"Hm, next time I'll have to work a little harder," she noted. "Maybe I'll push you all the way." He grinned, leaning on Katrina's shoulder.
"You're forgetting one thing, sweetheart," he said. "I'm not bi, and I'm certainly not straight; only guys get me off."
"Sure, you say that now," she snorted. "Just wait until I off you." She sliced a thumb across her throat in demonstration. "Now get your asses inside already; the longer you stand out here, the more likely it is an enemy will spot you."
Demetrius sighed. "Just somebody explain, what the fuck's going on."
Katrina made her leave from the room. "I'm gonna go pack some clothes." She had made it two steps up the stairs before she called down. "And Storm says it's fine to tell him!"
"Wonderful. It's Storm's ass on the line, then, if we get in trouble for this," Taylor said, expression turning serious as he faced Demetrius. "Short version: there are creatures called Daimons; they're basically vampires, but instead of blood, they drink human souls to extend their lives. Artemis-oh, and every god you've ever heard of exists, along with thousands of others-Artemis created a group called Dark-Hunters to protect humans from Daimons; when a person dies an unjust death, and their soul cries out for vengeance, that scream summons her and she offers them twenty-four hours to get their revenge in exchange for their soul. From then on, they have certain abilities that help them battle Daimons, who are stronger, faster, and more powerful than average humans. Scara, Miss Scary Lady over there, is a Dark-Huntress. I'm her Squire; we Squires are ordinary humans who help Dark-Hunters by basically doing anything they can't do, like going out in the daytime-Dark-Hunters and Daimons are both banned from the day because of Apollo, but that's another story. We also cover up any incident that might alert other humans to the battle going on in the shadows, like when a Daimon kills a human and leaves their body where others can find them; New Orleans is a supernatural hotspot, so not many people question it when a body turns up with vampire bites, but in some places, it's not so normal, and Squires cover it up whenever they can. Anyway, Katrina has a really strong soul because she's, like, some sort of demigod or something-we're not exactly sure what-and Daimons are really attracted to her. She also has some unknown blood running through her veins, and our boss, Acheron Parthenopaeus, assigned Scara to watch over her until her twenty-fifth, when the bloodline gets activated." Stopping, Taylor took a moment to breathe. "Ok, did you follow any of that?"
Demetrius simply raised a brow at them. "And you expect me to believe this?"
Katrina had just come back downstairs at the end of Taylor's explanation, a duffle bag over her shoulder. "Unfortunately yes, I did actually die about two days ago."
"What?!"
The blue eyed girl nodded sadly. "The only reason I'm alive now is because my so called 'god' of an ancestor resurrected me."
"Yeesh," Taylor mock shuddered. "Having a god in the family never ends well... Half the Dark-Hunters I know have some sort of relation to a god, and you see how their lives turned out..." Sighing, he shrugged. "Ah well... Ce'st la vie and all that... Ready to go, sweetie?"
Katrina nodded before standing on her toes a bit to kiss her brother's cheek. "I'll call to let you know I'm okay."
Demetrius let out a long sigh and ruffled her hair, which she fixed so the headband sat right. "Just stay safe."
Katrina smiled. "I'll try."
Taylor paused in herding her out the door to glance back and wink at Demetrius.
"Trina will have my number if you're ever interested," he grinned. "I'm not usually quite so prissy." Not giving him a chance to reply, he waved and bounded after the girl, calling back, "See you 'round, sexy!"
"Get your ass in the car before I kick it," Scara warned, opening the door for Katrina.
Katrina flashed her a smile before climbing in. Once Taylor jumped in, she turned and smirked. "He would so dominate your ass."
"And I would love every second of it," he smirked. "There aren't many guys that I'll turn sub for, but that is definitely one of them." He turned to look out the back window as Scara pulled away. "Mm-MM! Just you wait, sexy; if I can't satisfy Trina's god, I am so jumping your bones, boy."
"Taylor Trujillo, one more word and Jenny'll be an only child!" Scara snapped.
Katrina laughed. "Hell, you might be able to get a threesome out of it. You'd be the definite bottom on that one."
Taylor started fanning himself as the thought of both a god and a delicious Greek-Scot taking him made him quietly moan.
Katrina snickered. "I think he just had a fangasm."
"You're not helping," Scara snarled at the girl, casting a glance at her, and immediately regretting it; the quirky smirk she wore sent a sudden need to kiss the girl through her. It was aggravating and she had to force her eyes back to the road, silently cursing Acheron, Susanno, and the Fates. "He doesn't need any encouragement..."
"No, but it certainly helps," Taylor said, sighing wistfully, excited anticipation in his expression.
The blue eyed descendant laughed. "I would almost pay to see the results." At Taylor's confused look, she grinned and winked at him. "You're riding with a huge yoai fan."
Taylor grinned. "We're gonna have to compare notes; I know some really good sites for boy's love fictions." Scara groaned and began thumping her head against the steering wheel as she waited for a light to turn green.
"Kill me now..." she whimpered. "I'll take Shadedom over this!"
Katrina giggled and reached over to pay her shoulder. "Don't worry, I know a bunch of good yuri too."
Scara cast her a bland look as she continued on toward home; no sense in going out tonight if she wasn't hunting. "Definitely not helping."
"Got yourself a lady boner there, Se?" Taylor teased.
"No," she answered promptly. "Shut up." His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
"Oh my god, you do!" he laughed. "Should I leave you two alone tonight?"
"Would you stop it?" she snapped back. "I will pull over and beat the hell out of you; don't think I won't!"
Katrina bit her lip to try to keep her laughter in, but the smile on her face and her shaking shoulders gave it away.
"I swear, you two are like...!" The word 'kids' stuck in Scara's throat, wiping out all interest in Katrina for the moment. Her grip on the wheel tightened in an effort to stop the trembling that signaled the start of a panic attack as images of her beloved son flashed through her mind.
Suddenly overwhelmed, she slammed on the brakes, twisting the wheel to bring the car to the side of the road, where she rammed it into park and shut off the engine, jumping out without even taking the keys from the ignition.
Taylor, thinking she was truly angry and making good her threat, paled.
"Scara, we were just messing..." he began, absently rubbing his shoulder where it connected with the back of Katrina's seat. But the door slammed shut, cutting off his words.
Thankfully, they were only a block or so from Scara's apartment and she made it to the door before the panic attack really hit. Hands trembling, she dropped the keys to the door, and collapsed trying to pick them up. Breathing in short gasps, she cradled her head in her hands, reliving the worst moment of her two-thousand-plus-year life.
Katrina paled, Scara's reaction had been similar to that of her own father's PTSD reaction he gained from fighting in war. Certain things set him off and when he went off, it was never good. She hopped into the driver's seat and turned the ignition back on before stomping on the gas. She was not going to leave her to go through it alone.
The moment Katrina parked, Taylor jumped out and ran up to the door. He started to reach for Scara, but stopped himself, knowing she could well lash out without realizing what she was doing. Instead, he carefully scooped up the keys and unlocked the door, opening it wide.
"Scara," he said, keeping his voice low and even, masking his fear. "Scara, honey, come inside..."
Katrina switch the ignition off and bolted up the stairs, locking the car as an afterthought. When she came to the door, she ignored Taylor's protests and dragged Scara up and took her inside, despite the woman being much larger than herself and thrashing a bit. She wrestled the woman into her room and pushed her down on the bed.
Immediately, Scara grabbed her by the neck and twisted, pinning the girl to the bed. A furious light gleamed in her eyes as she wrapped her hands around Katrina's throat and began squeezing.
The intruder had to die; he raped Amenhapu's corpse! A slow, painful death at her hands; that's what he deserved. No, he deserved worse, but this was all she was capable of at the moment.
A sickening crack rang through the room, and for a split second, everyone froze. Then Scara's eyes rolled back in her head, her hands loosening, and she slumped over, landing half on Katrina. Taylor stood at the end of the bed, gun in hand with the muzzle smoking, and a grim determination in his expression.
"She's gonna kill me later," he grimaced. "But I didn't know what else to do..."
Katrina coughed several times as she sat up. There were faint handprint marks on her neck and gold had started to peek at the edges of her eyes.
"Are you ok?" Taylor asked, helping roll Scara to one side of the bed. He gently touched the marks on Katrina's neck with a worried frown. "I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop her in time..."
"If you hadn't..." She slightly wheezed as she gestured to her head as the gold started to fade. "He would of."
Taylor shuddered. "When she wakes up, we need to find out what the trigger was; no telling what she'll do next time." He glanced at the by-all-accounts dead Dark-Huntress. "Did you know, she's one of the strongest Dark-Hunters in existence right now? Obviously that's not counting former Dark-Hunters, or beings like Ash who call themselves Dark-Hunters... She and Tiffany were the only Dark-Hunters that patrolled Tallahassee. And when most big cities need at least four or five Dark-Hunters, that's saying something."
"Yeah. Kinda figured that out myself," she bit out sarcastically as she carefully got up. She grabbed Taylor's sleeve and dragged him out into the living room, shutting the bedroom door behind her. "Since we're on the topic... What got her transferred out here?"
He winced and glanced at the door.
"...Ok, whatever you do, do not mention this to her," he said, pulling her further from the door in case Scara healed quickly and came out in the middle of the conversation. "Like, ever; she'll freak... Honestly, the only reason I know is because I have to know everything about my Dark-Hunter. About a week ago, give or take, she was seriously messed up over an insult some guy gave her for flirting with a waitress, and she told Tiffany; the two were seriously tight for, like, a couple of centuries. Tiff, being a good friend, came over to her house to hang out with her and help cheer her up. But Dark-Hunters can't be near each other for long, or they start to lose their powers. It was a safeguard Artemis programmed in to keep them from teaming up and overthrowing the gods. Tiff stayed with her practically all day, so they were both pretty much mortal by nightfall. That night, they were still recovering, and Tiff got kill by a pack of Daimons. Now, you have to understand... Dark-Hunters are soulless; when they trade their soul for vengeance, they literally lose it, immediately. So when they die, they become Shades, cursed to walk the earth, forever hungry and thirsty, but unable to eat or drink, and never seen by anyone less than a super powerful god. Scara blames herself for Tiff's death, and she couldn't stay in the city they'd spent centuries protecting. That's why Ash moved her here, to recover for a few decades before she goes somewhere else."
"Jesus Christ..." She muttered as she ran a hand through her hair. "I can imagine what that's doing to her."
"I can't either," he admitted, glancing again at the door. "But that's not even the worst she's suffered through; back when she was mortal, in ancient Egypt, her entire family was slaughtered. I don't know all the details, of course, but from what I've heard, and from the way she acts around others, I know she refuses to let people close because she's terrified of losing them. She, like, thinks she's cursed or something... And honestly, I don't blame her; anyone would think they were cursed after losing so many people. In fact, I'm a little surprised she's still alive; most people would have killed themselves by now, Dark-Hunter or not."
Katrina nodded then sighed. "Hopefully we can figure out what set her off before it happens again."
"No kidding," Taylor huffed, lifting the gun. "As much as I love my baby, I hate using her." He checked that the safety was on and began disassembling it with practiced ease. Used to getting questions, he automatically started explaining. "Beretta 92FS; an old style gun, but still reliable, and still popular in the military. It's got a great heft without being too heavy, and the slide doesn't..." Pausing, he trailed off, a light blush creeping into his cheeks as he glanced up, gun still half-assembled in his hands. "Sorry... I'm a bit of a gun-enthusiast; comes with the territory."
She smiled. "Not a bad thing to have, especially with the life you have."
"Definitely!" Suddenly grinning, he reassembled the gun in seconds and held it out. "Know how to handle one? I can teach you. With her..." he jerked his head toward the bedroom "...you might need it."
The woman nodded and gently took it from his hold. "I agree."
Stepping behind her, he put his arms around her shoulders and gently took her hands, moving them to hold the gun correctly.
"Like this," he said, "and never put your finger on the trigger unless you're actually going to pull it. Rest your trigger finger here." He nudged it to rest on the trigger guard. Touching the various parts of the gun, he explained them. "This is the safety; like this it's engaged, so the gun won't fire, but you can flick it with your thumb..." he demonstrated "...and disengage it pretty easily. This is the slide release. You don't need to worry about that for now; that's for taking the gun apart. This is the mag release, so you can put a new clip in if you empty the chamber." Turning the gun a bit, he showed her a small red mark near the top of the gun. "This is the load-indicator; it'll tell you if the mag is full or not. Since I only used one bullet, it's still alright. Now, let me see you aim."
