Chapter Eight: The Truth Hurts

Brooke returned to the apartment later that afternoon with little incident. Mark had left the cafe before she'd returned from the kitchen and not long after that Xander had found her curled up against the refrigerator. Drawing on her innate ability to lie to anyone, she bluffed her way out of it, blaming lack of sleep and stress from moving cities on her break down. He appeared to have believed her and had left her alone.

The rest of the day had gone by as slowly as one would expect in Hollywood, which was to say not at all. Before she knew it, it was quitting time and she was picking up her paycheck and walking home.

As she approached her front door, she was surprised to find it unlocked and open. She froze mid-step, watching the beam of light from inside. A shadow drifted passed it, followed by a muffled voice. It was female, but it wasn't Willa. She took a tentative step forward, listening closely to the conversation.

"She's very clearly not here, Will," the original voice said. There was a stiff laugh.

"I was betting on that. James probably took her with him. Gives us a chance to raid his liquor cabinet."

That voice definitely belonged to Willa, so Brooke summoned her courage and pushed the door open, leaning against the door way. The woman Willa had been speaking to jumped to beside Willa who stood behind the sofa, her finger less-gloved hand holding onto a bottle of wine. She looked stunning, as she usually did, in a black, over-bust corset and fishnet shirt. Brooke smiled at both of them.

"James left for San Francisco this morning, Willa, so how the hell did you get into our apartment?"

Willa grinned at the blonde, her hand on her hip. She brought the bottle of wine to her lips and took a long swig. When she pulled it away, she continued smiling, though she seemed a little off balance.

"I'm aware of that, Fire Hazard. I have a key so he can cry on my shoulder when he screams himself awake every night."

Brooke blinked, looking over at their companion and studying her. She had short, tomato-red hair which was tied in two pigtails at the nape of her neck. She wore thick framed glasses and a single silver stud beneath her bottom lip. Her clothes wore also very different to the classic Gothic style that was Willa's. She wore a baggy red t-shirt with the pocket over one breast, a smug looking cat poking through the top, and a pair of cut off shorts that barely covered her upper thigh. She was barefoot, but her toes were covered in tiny circlets of silver. She was extremely different to the woman gulping wine straight from the bottle.

"Who might you be?" Brooke asked, placing her keys on the dresser by the door. The girl smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair back into her hair.

"I'm Ramona," she said, stepping back again. She seemed intimidated by the blonde in the doorway. Brooke smiled at her, as friendly as she could be.

"Don't try anything, kid," Willa said. Brooke looked over at her, expecting to see her swaying near the coffee table. Instead, Willa was lounging on the sofa, her hand the only thing visible as it rested on the back. "Ramona is my girlfriend, not yours."

Willa's speech was slurred, tipping Brooke off to the fact she was drunk.

"I'll be your ex if you keep this up," Ramona said, sitting down at Willa's feet. The dark haired beauty raised her bare foot, gently nudging it against Ramona's ribs. The red head smiled and pat her leg, her eyes giving away that she wouldn't keep to her word. Her dark brown eyes were full of so much affection, Brooke thought she might burst.

"So why are you drinking here instead of your own apartment?" Brooke asked, removing her coat. Willa's hand shot up over the sofa and pointed at her.

"None of your business, Blondie-locks. I do what I want."

Ramona sighed, resting against the sofa.

"The last time you used that excuse, I had to bail you out for being drunk and disorderly in Reno."

Brooke watched the two for a few moments, taking in the scene. The two seemed very intimate, but that didn't bother her at all. What bothered her was the fact she hadn't been told that Willa would be in the apartment while James was gone. Did she not have any sense of boundaries?

Her pocket chimed and vibrated and she retrieved her phone. She had a text message from James.

I should warn you that I'll be gone a couple of days. I'll try and be back sooner than that, but I don't know how long my job is going to take. Daniel and Sam will be around to help you if you need anything, but I wouldn't ask Willa for anything. It's the weekend of her birthday and she's probably going to get very drunk, like she usually does. Don't take anything she says to heart.- James

A few seconds later and another text came through.

Also don't be surprised if she's in our apartment right now with a bottle of scotch in her hand. She does that. I don't mind but you can kick her out if you want to be alone.- James

Brooke grinned and sent a text in reply.

You must be clairvoyant; she's currently lounging on your sofa with her girlfriend. The only thing you got wrong was her poison of choice.- Brooke

Her phone chimed again just as she was stuffing it back in her pocket.

The rarest thing in the world is when I'm wrong. Second guess, a bottle of Merlot.-James (who shouldn't be texting right now as he's sitting in a movie theater.)

Brooke grinned again, looking up to the two ladies sitting on the sofa. They were both staring intently at her, though Willa had a goofy grin on her face, her eyes glassing over.

"I take it that's lover-boy?" she asked, her speech even more slurred than before. Brooke nodded.

"What are you drinking?"

Willa grinned and held up the bottle, showing off the shiny red label.

"Only the cheapest and most disgusting bottle of wine I could find."

"She's drinking Pinot Noir," Ramona clarified, reaching over to take the bottle from her inhibited lover. Willa wrenched the bottle away, placing her foot on Ramona's chest and forcing her away from her.

"Uh uh, mine. Not for you."

Brooke left the two alone, returning to look at her phone as she wandered down the hallway into her bedroom.

Wrong again, love. Something called Pinot Noir is going to help her to an early grave. I don't understand why people drink.- Brooke

Closing her door behind her, Brooke kicked off her boots and flopped down onto her bed, finally able to relax after a full day on her feet. The break down she'd had in the storage room hadn't helped her at all, and her eyes were sore from crying so much. When she'd left the room and found Mark gone and the cafe open and busy, she'd been relieved to figure out that her mother's guardian had no idea who she was. She was still able to stay in Los Angeles. As long as he didn't find her and drag her back to Caina, she was in the clear and free to be who she felt she was meant to be, whoever that turned out to be.

The chime from her phone brought her back from her daze and she reached for it.

Wow. I must be losing my touch. I've known her so long you'd figure I know what color underwear she's wearing, even if I'm miles away.- James

Brooke laughed, almost dropping her phone on her face. It vibrated again as she took a deep breathe.

Call me a pervert if you want, but I think she's wearing her 'sexy' black lace ones. It is her birthday after all, but she'll want to treat Mona more than herself, if you know what I mean.- James.

Deciding not to shout her question, she pulled up Willa's text conversation and typed.

Please don't find this strange, but James is guessing you're wearing your sexy black lace underwear. Is he correct?- Brooke.

It took a minute but Brooke got her answer. The sound of clomping feet resonated down the hall way and Willa barreled into the room, Ramona right behind her, trying to retrieve the spilling bottle of wine.

"Tell the flaming turd I'm not wearing any," she chortled, dopey grin still on her face. Brooke paled and caught herself before she laughed. Before she could stop her, Willa had given the bottle of wine to Ramona and had belly-flopped onto Brooke's bed, her dark curls bobbing. "Actually, tell him to fuck off and do his job... You know what, gimme that."

Brooke looked up at Ramona.

"Is she always like this?"

Ramona smiled. "Only when she's completely wasted. It gets worse, trust me."

Brooke smiled and turned back to Willa who had stolen her phone and was responding to James. She peered at her screen, watching the older woman's fingers dart across the touch pad.

Hey, fucknut. I'm not wearing any for a start, and for a finish, get to work, ya lazy ass. Don't make me come up there-Willa

As she hit send, Willa dropped Brooke's phone into her hands, watching the blonde closely.

It was quiet for a few minutes, the ticking of the clock in the hallway the only sound, as well as the passing cars in the streets of Santa Monica.

"Willa," Ramona said, breaking the silence. Willa looked up at her, dopey smile still on her face. Ramona grinned right back at her. "You may as well ask her."

Brooke's eyebrow rose as she looked between the two women. Willa rolled her eyes, flipping onto her back.

"What are you doing tonight?" she asked, looking up at the blonde. Brooke blinked.

"Are you asking me to go out?"

"Sure, if you're not busy anyway."

"I'm not."

"Good. Wear something slutty and meet us in the lobby."

Before Brooke could respond, Ramona stepped forward to pull Willa to her feet and drag her from the room. All Brooke could do was blink. Had that just happened?

After a minute, she climbed to her feet and into her closet where her new clothes were hanging.

What constituted as slutty in Santa Monica?

~X~

From the top of an apartment building, James could see his target leaving. He could also see the Golden Gate bridge and the Bay, but his eyes were on the woman leaving the hotel across from him. His eyes narrowed as he watched her. She was medium height, red haired, dark skinned and fairly simply dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt. She looked like a suburban mom, but James knew better. The slight bulge at the base of her spine tipped him off to her true nature.

He smirked, keeping his eyes on her as he leaped off the side of the building. It was a five story drop, and he dropped like a pin, arms spread to slow his descent. He slammed into the ground, bending his knees as he went. His trench coat curled around his ankles as he looked up. No one had seen him drop. Letting out a sigh of relief, he walked out of the alley and into the streets. He spotted his target again and stalked off down the street. She was on the opposite side, so he had to dodge through traffic, but he managed to. He'd always had quick reflexes, and now was no different.

The San Francisco streets were probably busier than usual, allowing James to blend into the crowd. Club goers and ravers filled the sidewalk, stepping passed James as he tracked the woman. She had no idea she was being stalked by anyone, let alone the best information broker on the west coast. By the time he was right behind her, it would have been too late for her to do anything about it anyway.

James took hold of her arm and dragged her into an alleyway, pushing her right to the back.

"Hey what's the big id- James?"

He removed his hood and balaclava, proud smirk in place.

"Hello, Levanica," he said, leaning against the wall, his eyes drawn to the busy streets. People hurried passed by without a second glance to the two old friends in the alley. He turned back to the dark skinned woman who gave him a very confused look. "You didn't think I'd find you, did you?"

Levanica took a step back, hands in her pockets.

"I was hoping you wouldn't. Look, I can pay you back-"

"I'm not here about money."

"Then why did you grab me and throw me into an alley?"

"The same reason I rough up everyone from the seventh level."

Levanica rolled her topaz eyes, staring at her companion.

"Really? You still think someone in Violence manipulated your demon half to kill her? You know we're not that smart. Hell, why come after me? I'm a lower level pain demon. I'm no threat to you, physically or mentally. You know that."

James' eyebrow twitched with every word she spoke, his temper rising. He'd traveled five and a half hours to get information out of her, and now she was trying to point him in the wrong direction. That didn't fly well with him at all.

"Levanica, I swear by the nine layers of hell and every realm of the heavens that I will crush you if you're lying to me," he growled.

Levanica simply smirked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Clearly you haven't cut him off completely."

James blinked.

"What?"

Levanica reached into her backpack and pulled out a small compact. She flipped it open and handed it to him.

James surveyed his reflection. He still looked like himself, except for the six black dots of varying sizes under his right eye and the red flame-like design surrounding his left eye. His eyes themselves were blood shot and yellow instead of their cool brown.

His hand jerked and the mirror dropped, shattering against the ground. Levanica continued smirking, retrieving the broken pieces of her compact.

James fell back against the wall, his whole body shaking. He raked his fingers through his wind-blown hair and slid down, holding his head between his forearms, the image of the demon still circulating through his brain. He knew those eyes better than anyone and he hated them. Those eyes belonged to the reason he was alone in the world, why he was no longer a father. They belonged to the demon that had destroyed everything he'd ever cared about.

Levanica leaned down to rest a hand on James' shoulder.

"Go home, James. Go back to L.A. You won't find what you're looking for here."

He barely heard her through the blood rushing to his head. He curled his arms around his knees. He wouldn't allow the demon inside him to win. Struggling to regain his composure, he placed a hand on the ground, sending his rage downwards.

Levanica jumped back, yelping as the ground beneath them began to quake. She stumbled backwards, landing in a heap beside a dumpster.

James' head rose, the yellow in his eyes deepening. He made eye contact with Levanica and he growled, balling his hand into a fist. She blinked at him, fear darting across her face as she watched the world around her begin to crumble.

The people walking passed the alley way, stopped, tripping over themselves to find safe refuge until the shaking stopped. Cars screeched to a stop as people flung themselves into doorways and under staircases.

Eventually, the shaking stopped. Tentatively, the people of San Francisco returned to their lives, ignoring the plight of the man in the alley.

James blinked, staring at Levanica as she rose to her feet. Sensitivity returned to his fingers and he placed it on the wall behind him, using the building to help him back to his feet. He leaned against it, catching his breath.

"I'm so glad I'm on your side," Levanica whispered, watching the people on the street.

James didn't say anything, instead pulling his balaclava back on and returning his hood to its rightful position. Strands of blonde and black hair fell into his eyes as he stepped out into the streets. He could hear Levanica calling for him, but he chose to ignore her. He wanted nothing more than to leave San Francisco and return home to the safety of his apartment. To Brooke.

He wrapped his arms around him, the chilly night air biting at the exposed skin near his eyes. He looked at the ground, ignoring the sound of laughter as it rang out in his head. He wouldn't allow the demon to win.

Never again would Jeritza hurt anyone.