Mick grunts as Josef drops him into the passenger seat of the Mercedes and shuts the door. Chips of the window poke at him through his coat and jeans. My poor girl! He reaches out and pats the door, he's had this car for forty years. During that time he'd never let anything worse than the bad parallel parking job by that valet in the eighties happen to her. A broken window! Where am I going to get a vintage part?
"You can stop fussing over the car, buddy. My mechanic will take care of it." Josef reaches into the backseat and pulls out another bottle of blood, "Hungry? There's one more where this came from." He puts his hand out, "I do hope you didn't drop your keys somewhere, I never did learn how to hot-wire one of these things."
Mick licks his lips, his body was screaming for more blood already, and he couldn't help but appreciate Josef's private stock even without having most of his bones broken by a demon. He reaches into his hip pocket and pulls out the keys, offering them to Josef.
Josef takes them and puts the bottle into his hand. "You've got to feed some more, I can hear your bones scrape as you breathe."
"I know." Mick pulls the cork from the bottle and takes a long pull. He closes his eyes as the blood quickly moves through his body, restoring damaged tissues and knitting bones. The relief is almost intoxicating and he rests his head against the seat with a sigh.
Josef slides the keys into the ignition and fires up the old car's engine. He pulls it away from the curb and points it towards the penthouse. "So. What happened back there?"
Mick rolls his head towards Josef without lifting it from the headrest. "Not much more that you already know. We stopped by old Max's shop to pick up some ammunition. Andy got some information out of him, and confirmation that the Riley guy seems to be involved with more than just financing this mess. We came here to try to pick up some leads and were ambushed." He trails off, and takes another mouthful of blood. "It's funny, though. Max said the guy that stopped by the shop asking about the athaeme wasn't a vampire. Riley most certainly is. Max shouldn't have missed that, even though Riley's a new turn..."
"Wasn't there two humans at the place where the kid was killed?" Josef glances towards Mick, "Could there be someone else running around?"
"Crap. You're right." Mick gulps down a few more swallows. "I guess getting smashed into the wall knocked that bit out of my head."
Josef grins slowly at him, "Too bad you're at a disadvantage, that's a hard one to pass up."
"Shut up." Mick finishes the bottle in his hand and pushes himself a bit more upright. The glass on the seat digs into different bits of his backside and he grimaces. "And you couldn't even brush the damn seat off?"
"My hands were rather full." Josef keeps grinning as he guides the Mercedes onto the highway and presses the accelerator. Wind begins buffeting Mick, and bits of glass spray behind them onto the pavement. The noise from the Mercedes rolling up to speed makes speech impossible and Mick gives up on a return sally.
He looks out of the open window as the city flies past; inexplicably a pair of bright blue eyes, more familiar than his own hazel, fill his consciousness. A leaden weight settles on his chest as he remembers how fearful tears welled up in those beautiful, trusting eyes and threatened to spill over as he turned from her, leaving her confused and shocked by his harsh, "He's already dead," and all that those three sharp words implied about himself.
I've got to go see her. To let her know...what? That an obsessed, undead monster begs her not to fear and hate him? That the creature that feels responsible for a trauma she'll never quite recover from, that has watched her for twenty-two years, can't stand the idea of stepping back into the shadows? Can't stand the idea that he may face the end of his existence with her looking at him with fear in her face, branded in his mind? That after all this time, he's finally found someone he can trust again? He clenches his eyes shut against more than the howling wind and curses himself for his weakness, I'm damned already, may as well try to touch the light while I still can.
He reaches into the back seat and pulls out the last bottle from the cooler, Josef glances towards him as he pushes the Mercedes to her limits on the empty freeway and tosses him an encouraging grin. Mick nods back and begins working on the bottle. The hunger from his injuries is finally subsiding and he feels the last of the pain fade under the soothing balm of the blood sliding down his throat. He rests his head against the seat again and tries to still his thoughts as the car continues to rumble towards home.
Andy falls out of the icy black just outside Max's shop, and stumbles a few steps before catching herself against a parked car with a wing. She manages to hang onto the two bottles in her hands without dropping them and looks around nervously, as the shop's neighborhood is one that would be busier in the hours after midnight, when the denizens of the night felt safe to walk as the rest of the world slept deeply.
Her luck obviously gone the way of the sun, a trio of heads snap in her direction. The owners of said heads, dressed in a theme of shredded black cloth and stainless steel, freeze in mid-step and gape at her. Their eyes widen; the sudden appearance of a battered woman clutching two bottles filled with a ruby liquid to her chest, leaning against a small car with a large, grey wing splayed widely across the faded and chipped hood undoubtedly difficult to catalog: Reality, or the effects of the various pharmaceuticals running through their systems?
Andy curses silently as she straightens, folding her wing but still using it to keep herself upright, and tries to back casually out of the unfortunate circle of sickly yellow light cast by the only working street lamp on the entire block. The trio, less intoxicated than they appeared at first, track her movement. Andy closes her eyes briefly in frustration, as she tries to summon the strength to stand without leaning against the battered Miata, and folds her wings tight to her back, hoping the shadow she'd finally reached will confuse the trio sufficiently to make them question what they'd just seen.
Shifting wasn't an option in her current state, between the painful effects of the cracked rib, and being down to the last dregs of energy, she'd probably lose consciousness halfway through. And that would be just dandy...unconscious pile of feathers and blood for the cops to find. Nice. Just keep walking, folks, please. God, I don't have anything left to deal with this! She puts a little pressure behind her thoughts, Leave, damn it! You do not want to find out if what you just saw is real. Go! Thankfully, the gothic trio is willing to believe what they are sure they thought of on their own and scurry away down the cracked sidewalk into the night.
Andy sags a little in relief, and starts towards the belled door of Max's shop. Stumbling only a little, she crosses the street and looks through the smudged glass. At first, the chaos doesn't register, the clutter is already so thick. But as she pushes the door open, the metallic scent of blood hits her, and she gags back a sudden wave of nausea. Andy steps inside, cautiously, and looks around, trying to pinpoint the source of the blood smell. The the door swings shut behind her, and the bells on the door jangle madly, irrepressibly cheerful in spite of the horrible miasma of fear and death inside.
She sees a body slumped behind a shelf of mismatched porcelain goods. She hurries her steps, "Ma..." but her heart goes to her throat, cutting off the name. The body, while male, is not Max and she turns away from the terrified expression twisting the corpse's face. "Max?" She chokes, then, louder, "Max! Are you here?" A tiny sound, behind the counter, answers her and she freezes slightly before starting towards it. She rounds the chipped, brass-edged case, and puts her forearm to her mouth, her hand still gripping the bottle of blood, to try to hold back a scream.
She'd seen torture before. She'd seen every way a mortal body could suffer torment before the final escape of death. Sometimes, she'd even been able to bring the sufferer back to wholeness and life before they crossed to the side safe from pain. But she'd never seen how an immortal could suffer...how the escape was limited so that the agony could be drawn into forever.
Max lay there, staked. The rest of what had been done to him left Andy shaking with reaction. As shock turns to anger, a flood of adrenaline pushes away her own pain and she kneels next to him. She sets the bottles of blood on the gore-stained floor next to her knee, and looks compassionately into Max's ruined face. His eyes stare, dark grey, and shadowed with desperation. She leaves the stake alone for the moment, as she gently begins to pull a variety of silver objects from his body. The flesh surrounding each item has begun to putrefy, the antiseptic effects of the silver counteracting the virus sustaining the tissues. Grimly she puts torn muscles and organs back where they belong until she could do no more for him. She takes a deep breath, ignoring the sharp jab of the damaged rib, and painfully pulls his head and shoulders into her lap. She picks up a bottle, uncorks it and presses the rim to Max's lips. "I pray you can hear me. Drink this, don't try to eat me, my blood will kill you." She reaches gingerly for the stake with the other hand, and pulls it out quickly.
Max's body convulses. Andy drops the stake and wraps her now free arm around Max's head, pulling him down into her lap. The shuddering stops, and his eyes, now bleached nearly white, turn up to her. He blinks, and tears trickle down bloodied cheeks. "Make it stop," he mouths, inaudible.
Andy feels her own eyes fill in response to his pain, "Drink first. Don't give up, yet." She tilts the bottle to force some of the blood past his lips.
He swallows, brow wrinkling as the torn tissues of his throat move involuntarily. Blood trickles from his neck and Andy moves her hand from his forehead to his throat and she pinches closed the rent in his esophagus. She blinks back tears of anger, fear, and frustration as she reaches for a bit of strength to at least take a little of his pain from him. She rages internally at her helplessness...If he were only alive, she could heal him, but as he was she can only hope the blood was enough.
Max continues to drink, slowly. Minutes pass as the level in the bottle gradually decreases. But with each swallow, Andy can feel a slight decrease in the drain on her strength as his pain eases. As the bottle finally empties, she can see the first real signs of healing as his skin begins to seal along the long cuts on his abdomen and chest. She drops the empty bottle and it rolls across the floor to 'clink' against the base of the counter. She uncorks the second bottle and feels a tiny upwelling of hope as Max lifts his head slightly from her thighs to reach it. He drinks, much more normally, and empties the bottle quickly. He whines a little as she pulls it from his lips, "More?"
Andy smiles down at him in relief. "I'll get you some, soon. Let that settle, okay?"
He closes his eyes, and nods slightly.
Andy gently slides his shoulders off her knees, and lays him flat on the floor. She stands, and feels the room spin slightly around her. Not yet, damn it. She grits her teeth until the vertigo passes, and moves to the telephone by the cash register. She picks up the handset and dials out Mick's cell number. Please be okay enough to pick up. Please?
"St. John." Mick's voice is rougher than normal.
"Thank God. Are you okay?" Andy sags against the counter.
"I will be." A note of concern creeps into his tone, "You?"
"I'll be fine, but Max isn't. Is there anyone you could trust to send out here? With blood, and maybe willing to straighten the place up a little?" Andy looks over her shoulder; Max lies still, but most of his wounds have closed.
"The Cleaner." He mutters something away from the phone, then, "Josef just called her. She'll be there in ten minutes."
"Good. I'll stay with him until she gets here." Andy pauses, "Unless it'd be better if I don't?"
"Don't worry. The Cleaner knows about you." Mick coughs slightly, "Because I told her, Josef. Sorry about that, Andy. Are you sure you're all right?"
"Yeah." Movement outside the shop windows catches her attention, "I need to go; I'd better lock the shop until the Cleaner gets here. Thanks."
"Be careful." Mick's voice is quiet.
"I will. Bye." Andy drops the phone to it's cradle and limps around the counter towards the door. She flips the worn sign on the door to "Closed" and the thumb lock for the deadbolt just as a man of middling height, wearing a red windbreaker, steps out of the shadowed street into the light shining through the window spilling onto the sidewalk just outside the shop.
Andy stiffens in surprise, turning the bloody side of her face away from the man and pinning her wings tightly to her back.
"Hey, I need to talk to Max. Open up." The man raps on the door.
Andy swallows down her nerves. "I'm sorry. The shop's closed." She points at the sign.
"Max never closes before sunrise. Open up." He pulls the handle, rattling the door.
"He's closed tonight. Sorry." She backs away, hoping desperately that the man leaves before noticing the blood, the wings, and the body behind the teapots.
"Excuse me, you'll have to leave." A rich contralto, muffled only slightly by passing through the panes of glass, makes both the unfortunate man and Andy jump. A woman, her hair braided elegantly on top of her head and wearing a patent leather bodice and boots, appears behind the erstwhile customer.
He spins towards her, gapes a moment, then leers, "Honey, the only way I'm gonna leave now is with you."
"That can be arranged. Sam, would you take care of this little distraction?" A tall, lithe woman glides into Andy's view and puts a hand on the man's elbow.
"Hey!" He struggles, no more effectively than a hooked fish, as Sam cocks her head at the first woman.
"Whatever is necessary." The first woman turns back to Andy, as Sam removes the squealing man. Her eyes flick over Andy, and the shop, obviously missing nothing. "Well. Are you going to unlock the door, or will I have to add a new lock to Josef's bill?"
Andy eases back towards the door and reaches for the lock with a trembling hand, "Can I assume you're the Cleaner?"
"If I can assume the wings mean you're Lady Hawk." She folds her arms across her chest.
"Right." Andy flips the lock and backs away from the door quickly.
The corners of the Cleaner's mouth quirk up a bit, and she dips her head in acknowledgment of Andy's nervous retreat. "Easy, young one, you've proven yourself to me and mine." She steps through the door gracefully, raising an eyebrow at Andy. "Josef's still on the fence, though, and after my bill tonight, you may want to avoid him for a bit."
"I-I'll keep that in mind." Andy winces at the nerves easily audible in her voice.
The Cleaner smiles widely, moving past her and disappearing into the back of the shop.
Andy frowns and begins to follow. Before she passes the counter, the Cleaner reappears, followed by a handful of people. Andy freezes in place as the Cleaner's crew disperse through the shop and quickly begin setting the place to rights. The Cleaner and a delicately-built woman move towards Max, and Andy cautiously joins them, eying the two men busying themselves with the corpse by the porcelain.
"He's going to be okay, honey," the petite woman smiles encouragingly as she unzips the cover from a cooler.
"Thank God." Andy sinks down onto her heels and leans against the cabinet. Her wings fold awkwardly, and she winces as the feathers pull at the dried blood of several long cuts.
The Cleaner glances over towards Andy and frowns, "I'm not so sure about you, though. Mouse, give me that." She puts her hand out for the bag of blood the petite woman had just pulled from the cooler. Mouse hands it to her, "See what you can do for the guardian."
Andy stiffens, "I'm fine."
"Pardon my crudeness, but that's bullshit." Mouse reaches for Andy's chin and pulls her head to the right. "This is going to need stitches and I can hear that rib scrape as you breathe." She stands, "I'll be right back, I've got to get the kit from the van." She turns and disappears into the back of the shop before Andy can object.
The Cleaner chuckles, "I think Mouse is excited to patch you up. Not much call for her nursing skills in this line of work." She bends her attention back to Max as he finishes the the bag. "Here you go." She starts a new one and he drinks gratefully.
Mouse reappears, carrying a duffel. She drops it next to Andy and unzips it, pulling out assorted first aid supplies. "First thing, let's get the rib stabilized before you puncture a lung. Sit up."
Andy complies, pushing herself away from the cabinet and onto her knees. She pulls her wings out of the way as best she can.
Mouse lifts her shirt and grimaces. "I forgot how ugly broken bones look on a human. Okay, take as deep a breath as you can and hold it."
Andy nods, wincing.
Mouse begins wrapping some wide gauze tightly around her ribs just below her bra. "How'd this happen, anyway?"
Andy glances towards the Cleaner before answering, "I got ambushed by the bastard that did all this. I definitely lost."
Mouse frowns up at her, "You're alive. Wouldn't call that losing, exactly. Not if you were up against," she glances over to Max and swallows, "that."
"Well, it's still alive, too." Andy looks away. And at least one more person died because of that. Not to mention Mick and Max.
"There. That's the best I can do with the rib. Better?" Mouse drops the end of the gauze back into the duffel and pulls out a suture pack.
"Yeah." Andy takes a breath, "Quite a bit, actually."
"Good, 'cause this is going to sting." Mouse smiles ruefully as she pours some alcohol onto a cotton pad. Andy winces as she begins cleaning the blood from the gash on her temple. "Sheesh. This is a nice one." Andy grits her teeth as Mouse begins stitching it closed. "Sorry. I'll be quick."
Mercifully, she's true to her word, and finishes in just a few moments. Andy hisses through her teeth as the sharp throbbing of the sutures begins to ease. "Nothing else needs stitched. Okay?"
Mouse chuckles, "I'd do the deep one on your wing, but it's up to you."
"It can scar. Just clean it up a little." Andy relaxes the wing and Mouse pulls it into her lap.
"I can probably get a few butterflies to stick." She frowns, "But I don't know what to do about all the feathers."
Andy smiles, "Wouldn't expect you to, you aren't a vet. Pull them out."
"Really?" Mouse looks up at Andy quizzically. "Won't that hurt?"
"Yep. It will." Andy reaches for the edge of the cut and yanks a few feathers herself.
"Okay then." Mouse begins stripping bloody feathers from the edge of the laceration with surprising expertise.
Wincing, Andy whispers, "You're good at that."
"Well, I plucked more than a few chickens in my time. This isn't so different. There you go." She wipes the cut with some alcohol and begins applying a row of butterfly bandages.
Max's gravelly voice startles Andy. "Hawk lady, there's something you need to know."
Andy turns her head so fast, the room keeps spinning as she tries to focus on the old vampire. "What is it, Max?"
"That...thing. When he thought I was going to die. He told me what they was planning. They're going to bring another demon. After he opens up the magic under the hills for the witch."
Andy closes her eyes, feeling wave of quiet anger overcome her. "When?"
"Soon. He didn't say exactly, but he did say where." Max slowly sits up, the Cleaner frowns and lifts his shoulders.
Andy feels her lip curl as she opens her eyes and fastens her gaze onto Max's face.
His eyes glitter, "By the radio towers in Baldwin Hills."
Andy looks at the Cleaner, "Is there some way you could arrange a ride for me to Mick's place?"
The Cleaner raises an eyebrow at her, "I'm going to have to put it on Josef's bill."
Andy slowly smiles at her, "Make sure it's itemized."