Talia stood at the beginning of the end. She could almost see the light at
the end of the tunnel. She was worn and weary. Each breath felt like it
may be her last. The metal of the gun in her hand was so dark that it
almost shone. "Damien," she called into the darkness. She tried to sound
helpless. It wasn't hard. Her hand shook and she could here her own pulse
as an ever-accelerating drumbeat. "Damien, I give up. You win." Where
was he? The fight was almost over. She was going to win. She had to.
"Damien?" She rounded a corner and opened a door. She was going to get
that evil motherfucker. "Where are you?" Her voice shook with terror,
part real and part acted.
She stepped into the room. She said a prayer to the Goddess and readjusted the strap of her shoulder bag. It was full of wooden stakes. The idea was to shoot him where it would do some damage and then spear him before he could recupperate. She had never been more scared in her life. And then she felt him. With a sense of dread that was almost palpable, she knew he was there. Behind her.
He had her.
* * *
The Girl wasn't there and that automatically made Risika suspicious. The Girl had been tracking her for the past month, waiting for her chance to spring. Sometimes Risika let her stalk, but more often she merely shook her off, annoyed but unwilling to go through the trouble of frightening The Girl off. She was always waiting here for her, and the fact that she wasn't there was oddly unnerving. Maybe the girl was smarter than she appeared. She didn't think so, but it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye out. But she couldn't let herself become too distracted. She had bigger fish to fry. The black rose marking the trail leading to New Mayhem glistened with morning dew, and there had been a time when she would have noticed. There had been a time when she would have cared.
Right now she was more concerned with this new guy, Damien, who had been wreaking havoc among the witching families. This didn't bother her much, though it had Aubrey's little concubine, Jessica all wound up. Evidently he had gotten some of her kin. That could have been a mistake. As young as Jessica was, she was suprisingly powerful.
But pissing her off had been an even bigger mistake. It had been almost two weeks since Jager intercepted her during her hunting and informed her that her brother, Alexander had been killed by a vampire who flung a knife at him from behind without warning. He hadn't felt a thing. He hadn't provoked anyone either. Either Damien knew that Alexander was her brother and attacked him for that reason, or he had somehow found out that Alexander was a Tryste witch. Different as they may have been, Alexander had been her brother and she had loved him even if she couldn't be with him. She owed him this much. She owed him vengeance.
* * *
Las Noches is busies this time of night. Midnight. The witching hour. Risika feels on edge, and the littlest thing could push her over. Something was going to happen soon because it must. She just wished she could hurry it up. She was relieved and strangely calm when the figure slipped out of the masses to stand by her. "Risika," it acknowleged.
"Jessica," she replied. She could see her reflection in the bottles behind the counter. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's dangerous to talk to strangers?"
"We're hardly strangers. I think I know you better than I know myself."
Risika grunted. She didn't doubt it, but she was not at all happy about it. Before Jessica became a vampire she had published books about dreams she had, dreams about Riska's life and Aubrey's life. She made a lot of enemies without realizing it, and in the end was made a vampire by Aubrey to save her life. That definately did not make her Risika's favorite person, though she couldn't bring herself to flat-out hate the girl.
"What do you want?" Risika asked, sounding disinterested, though curiousity knawed at her.
"An alliance."
She stepped into the room. She said a prayer to the Goddess and readjusted the strap of her shoulder bag. It was full of wooden stakes. The idea was to shoot him where it would do some damage and then spear him before he could recupperate. She had never been more scared in her life. And then she felt him. With a sense of dread that was almost palpable, she knew he was there. Behind her.
He had her.
* * *
The Girl wasn't there and that automatically made Risika suspicious. The Girl had been tracking her for the past month, waiting for her chance to spring. Sometimes Risika let her stalk, but more often she merely shook her off, annoyed but unwilling to go through the trouble of frightening The Girl off. She was always waiting here for her, and the fact that she wasn't there was oddly unnerving. Maybe the girl was smarter than she appeared. She didn't think so, but it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye out. But she couldn't let herself become too distracted. She had bigger fish to fry. The black rose marking the trail leading to New Mayhem glistened with morning dew, and there had been a time when she would have noticed. There had been a time when she would have cared.
Right now she was more concerned with this new guy, Damien, who had been wreaking havoc among the witching families. This didn't bother her much, though it had Aubrey's little concubine, Jessica all wound up. Evidently he had gotten some of her kin. That could have been a mistake. As young as Jessica was, she was suprisingly powerful.
But pissing her off had been an even bigger mistake. It had been almost two weeks since Jager intercepted her during her hunting and informed her that her brother, Alexander had been killed by a vampire who flung a knife at him from behind without warning. He hadn't felt a thing. He hadn't provoked anyone either. Either Damien knew that Alexander was her brother and attacked him for that reason, or he had somehow found out that Alexander was a Tryste witch. Different as they may have been, Alexander had been her brother and she had loved him even if she couldn't be with him. She owed him this much. She owed him vengeance.
* * *
Las Noches is busies this time of night. Midnight. The witching hour. Risika feels on edge, and the littlest thing could push her over. Something was going to happen soon because it must. She just wished she could hurry it up. She was relieved and strangely calm when the figure slipped out of the masses to stand by her. "Risika," it acknowleged.
"Jessica," she replied. She could see her reflection in the bottles behind the counter. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's dangerous to talk to strangers?"
"We're hardly strangers. I think I know you better than I know myself."
Risika grunted. She didn't doubt it, but she was not at all happy about it. Before Jessica became a vampire she had published books about dreams she had, dreams about Riska's life and Aubrey's life. She made a lot of enemies without realizing it, and in the end was made a vampire by Aubrey to save her life. That definately did not make her Risika's favorite person, though she couldn't bring herself to flat-out hate the girl.
"What do you want?" Risika asked, sounding disinterested, though curiousity knawed at her.
"An alliance."
