Title: Pretty Lies

Author: Hedge

Spoilers: All the NW books, especially Huntress.

Rating: PG or PG-13, for slight violence, implied sex, and language.

Disclaimer: The universe this takes place in and any characters you recognize from the books belong to the lovely L.J. Smith. Azrael, Zeke, and the plot belong to me. Will and the Elite belong to my friend Wicked, and are on loan.

Synopsis: The thing about being a spy is that almost no one knows whose side you're really on. This creates problems.

Part Twelve: Triumph

Chaos.

That was the only word to describe the result of maybe a dozen Elite and half that many Daybreakers entering Zeke's hideaway unannounced. There was a moment of surprised stillness from both sides. Then witchfire flared, fur and feathers came forth as human guises were left behind, and canines sharpened while eyes silvered. The metallic scent of spilled blood filled the air, soon joined by the choking smell of burning things. The sounds of ripping flesh, snarls, and gunfire were followed by the cries of the injured and dieing. It was a battle, pure and simple. Will could hear the sounds faintly echoed outside the walls of the building, as the first wave of those trying to escape were ambushed.

Zeke's people were more numerous. They were in a place they had been able to familiarize themselves with, and they had ample training. They were still going to lose.

Very few people pissed off the Elite and lived long to tell about it. Zeke had survived longer then most. And it was time that ended.

Will was going to make sure of it. That was why he was prowling through the building, only killing those who got in his way, rather then joining in the slaughter taking place. He wanted to make sure that someone got Zeke's head on a pike. Figuratively or literally, it didn't really matter.

He slid around the edge of a skirmish on the fifth floor, keeping to the walls. A snarl alerted him to the fact that the corner he was approaching wasn't empty, but it hardly mattered. The half-changed shape-shifter was dead before she had fully emerged from the shadows.

He crouched down, retrieving his knife and making sure that the 'shifter was no longer among the living. The door, as effectively hidden in the shadows as the 'shifter had been, caught his attention. He almost let his gaze pass over it, since there was no light showing around the edges to reveal that anyone was inside. Then he caught a scent, familiar only because he had found it on Azrael every so often when she reported to him.

The lock on the door broke easily, if not exactly quietly. That was fine; he wasn't trying to be subtle. He pushed the door open, and waited a moment before stepping inside.

Zeke stood near one of the large windows. Weak light came through the stained panels, but that was enough to see by, especially for someone who had night vision that would make a cat go green with envy.

He turned towards Will, and like those of a cat, his eyes seemed to catch and reflect the light coming from the open door. He smiled quickly, a flash of white in the darkness. "Parker."

Kaltes wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, and grinned at the healer assigned to her unit as he finished mending a long set of claw marks on her hip. The panther who had given her them lay in a dark heap of fur near a trashcan. Maybe she would have it dyed pink and made into a nice rug for Will. An early Christmas present, or something.

She stretched out her newly-healed limb, then moved back to her position, slinging a friendly arm around Ceyx's shoulders. They would hear the next attackers before they saw them, and that would give them enough time to get ready. For now, they could goof off to their heart's content. "Having fun?"

He glanced sideways at her, and shook his head wryly, "No."

"Party-pooper," Kaltes said, and mock-pouted at him. He only snorted and shook his head again.

"If I close my eyes and wish really hard, will you disappear?"

"Well, yes... Your eyes will be closed."

"Brat."

"Snob."

"Twit."

"Bore..." She trailed off, and straitened, letting her arm drop from his shoulders. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes," he replied, before raising his voice enough that the rest of the group could hear, "We have company."

The comment resulted in instant order. Those fiddling with weapons or talking softly got into position, and the healer finished working on his last patient before falling back a little. As a requirement, he was good in a fight, but too valuable to risk him getting taken out by a desperate lunge or last sweep of claws from a dieing opponent.

All of them survived that rush of fleeing, angry Night Worlders, though much patching up was required. The next one, however, came too close on the heels of the one before it, and they lost two Elite members. One of them was Ceyx. That hit Kaltes like a punch to the gut, but with the ease of long practice, she turned most of her grief aside, for the time being. Just the same, it was good that they had some time before the next fight, or she might have been distracted enough to slip up, and join her partner on the ground.

It was shaping up to be a very long night indeed. Even as one of the Elite's gentler members, Kaltes was used to pain and the deaths of people she cared about. It was part of the line of work. Taking out the bad guys came with its own unique set of occupational hazards. She knew that. But she couldn't help but wonder if the price paid for tonight's hunt would be too great.

Aspen dropped out of a half-open window at the back of the building. He winced, and took a moment to recover before continuing his escape. His breath came out in shallow pants, and he used one of his hands to try to slow the bleeding from a deep cut on his side. He couldn't stop running, not yet. He was out of the building, unlike so many others, but he couldn't stop or even slow down until he was far, far away. He wasn't foolish enough to think he was safe yet.

Silence. He allowed himself to heave a relieved sigh as he made it into one of the little alleyways that littered the area around this building. He had managed to avoid them. It looked like he was safe after all.

Which was when a slender arm slid around his neck from behind, an almost gentle grip until the arm tightened and jerked him backwards. A familiar voice spoke into his ear, thick with triumph. "Say good night, Gracie."

The wooden knife that punched through his chest and into his heart effectively kept him from responding.

"Zeke," Will replied pleasantly, reaching up to turn off his headset before clasping his hands behind his back. Incidentally, it also placed his weapon within reach, but Zeke didn't need to know that. "How have you been?"

"Not too shabby. Finding out that my girlfriend was a spy was kind of disappointing, but I felt better after I got to use her as a punching bag." That made Will's temper simmer for a moment, but he didn't rise to the bait.

Zeke was still smiling, smug and far too confidant. Which either meant he had something up his sleeve, or he was underestimating the competition. Or both. And much as I would have liked to give him a long, drawn-out death, it isn't worth dawdling over and possibly getting surprised. After all, it would be rather embarrassing if a bottom-feeder like Zeke managed to kill me. Storm and Azrael would never let me live it down. Vicious, vicious ladies. Will sighed at the unwelcome thought, but had to acknowledge the truth in it.

So, when Zeke moved closer and fell into a fighting stance, Will didn't follow. Instead, he unclasped his hands, grasped the crossbow hidden on his back, and swung it around to face Zeke. The vampire's surprised look had barely registered before the first bolt hit him in the throat. The second found his heart, and a minute later, there was nothing to show that the Night World leader had been there except a dry and withered husk that only faintly resembled Zeke.

He heard a quiet step at the door to the room, but didn't look up. He could tell who it was.

"Why is it that they always look so startled when one of the good guys does something dirty and underhanded?," Veridian asked from behind him, her voice amused.

He matched her tone, "Are we good guys now?"

Her shrug was practically audible, "I suppose that depends on who you ask. I don't imagine Zeke's people think too highly of us at this point."

When he didn't answer except to nod, she continued. "The fighting is pretty much done with. Inside, anyway. Storm says that they're taking care of some stragglers out there still. Once they're finished... We have casualties. We'll have people to move, and we'll have to clean this place up." Which entitled disposing of bodies and anything else that someone might accidentally stumble upon.

Will grimaced, and gave Zeke's body a little kick before turning to Veridian. He slung the arm that wasn't occupied with the crossbow around her shoulders, and started out of the little room, "Wonderful. Clean-up. My favorite part. Just one thing."

"What?"

"I don't do windows."

Azrael looked down at the cup of coffee nestled in her hands, and tried to stay awake. It wasn't the first time she had seen the wrong side of dawn. Heck, it wasn't even the first time she had seen the wrong side of dawn after a night of fighting, running about, and playing gopher to the healers in the aftermath. But it had been a long, hard day, and every bruise and scrape she had was aching as if it were a killing blow. They were at the Elite headquarters, since it had been decided that it would be much simpler to bring the wounded there, rather then carting them all across the bridge and to the sanctuary in Hayward.

All she wanted to do was go home and sleep.

Home? Now, that was strange. When had she started thinking of the Daybreak sanctuary as home? She hadn't been there that long, and if she was going to think of anywhere as home, it should have been with the Elite. Not Daybreak.

After a moment, she had to admit that it wasn't so much the place that felt like home, as the people. One person in particular, in fact.

She could feel her cheeks flame at the thought. Maybe it would be wise not to examine that when her emotions were scrambled from the odd mixture of adrenaline, exhaustion, and the contradictory blend of triumph and grief that came from winning, yet seeing so many familiar faces among the dead.

For once, mental discipline failed completely, and her mind turned towards the subject of Hugh despite her best efforts.

She loved him. There was no denying that, as strange as it was. She wasn't at all the sort to fall in love with a person in under two weeks' time, but there it was. Then again, from what she had heard about the soulmate principle, it usually didn't give you much of a choice in the matter, and all that she had witnessed supported that claim.

Fine. So she loved him. That didn't really solve any problems though, and it created a few more of its own.

She had spoken briefly with one of the Daybreakers while they were both resting from their duties as healers' helpers, and she had been told it had been decided that the Bay Area was no longer safe for the Wild Power and those close to her. As soon as everyone who lived at the sanctuary was in fit condition to travel, they were moving on, probably to Las Vegas.

And that formed a predicament. Her first loyalty was to the Elite, and if she was perfectly honest, she wasn't willing to leave them. Which meant she either lived without her soulmate, in one of the cities where the Elite had a stronghold, or she went off to Las Vegas and lived Daybreak. And while the Daybreakers seemed nice enough, they weren't what she wanted. She wanted the Elite.

There had to be a better way, another option. But if there was, she just wasn't seeing it right now.

"You're still here?"

Azrael looked up to see who had addressed her, and found herself looking at the red-haired woman who had made Will blush earlier that day. What was her name...? Soraia? Yes, that was it. Her hazel eyes were suspiciously free of twinkle or humor, but Azrael doubted that anyone was really much in the joking mood right now. "Last I checked."

Soraia snorted, and for a moment, the twinkle returned to her gaze. "Come on. I'm heading back, I might as well take you with me."

Azrael didn't object, and they were out the door and on the road almost before she knew what was happening. The bridge was, for once, free of traffic, owing no doubt to the early hour. They passed half the trip in without speaking, and she once against lapsed into her thoughts, looking at the situation from every angle she could thing of, and finding it less clear but a great deal more depressing every time she did so. Part of that, she knew, was that she was tired.

When Soraia broke the silence at a stoplight, it was only to ask quietly if she was alright. And for some reason, Azrael found herself talking. Maybe it was something about the other woman, something the encouraged confidences, or maybe she just really needed to talk the situation over with someone else. Whatever it was, she told all in as calm a voice as she could managed, and finished right as they pulled up in front of the sanctuary.

Soraia turned off the engine, and leaned back in her seat, expression thoughtful. The silence stretched, and Azrael found herself uncomfortably aware of the fact she had just told something very personal to a stranger. What was wrong with her? Was she truly that exhausted?

When the other woman spoke, her voice was distant, as though her mind was on something other then the words she was speaking, "Any idea what you're going to do?"

"None. I'm so tired I can't even think strait, much less make any life-altering decisions."

She shook her head, as though clearing it, then gave Azrael a considering once-over, "I'll say. Go sleep. Maybe things will be clearer in the morning."

"Since I doubt I can get any more muddled, I'd say there's a good chance," Azrael replied, with a faint smile. She climbed out of the car, and headed towards the house. Soraia remained where she was for a few minutes longer, before sighing and following the witch inside.

Notes: Just shoot me. Please. Someone.

First of all, I'd like to apologize for taking so damn long on this installment. I re-wrote it at least twice, and I still don't exactly like it. I got so frustrated with the fight scene between Will and Zeke that I ended up just having Will shoot him. At one point, I even had a Princess Bride parody in here.

But that doesn't really matter. What matters is that I'm a lazy bum who went almost a month between updates. Shame on me. If it's any comfort, this part is about a page longer then usual, and you get everything from action to humor to fluff.

Chances are, you already know by now what characters belong to who, and who I want to thank, so I won't make a long Author's Note even longer. Happy April Fool's, everyone.