Disclaimer: The Night world and its characters belong to L.J Smith. The song from "Guys and Dolls."
Frozen Fire
It was too thick and dark to be water. He flailed, and thought his limbs were moving as fast as possible. But the parts of himself that he could see in the murky ocean moved slower than he could believe. Time was stretched here, wherever here was.
Refusing to sit about and wait for any major events, Valdis began to kick, propelling himself with comparatively fast speed. He wasn't sure if he swam in the right direction, but at least he was doing something. There were warbled sounds, sometimes sounding like words, other times it sounded like jangled music notes.
Then, unexpectedly, there was no heavy fluid surrounding him. Unaware he had shut his eyes, Valdis blinked and blinked again, squinting against the harsh brightness. It was music, and there was an angelic voice carrying on with the lovely tune. Curious, he tried to discern where he was and who could help him out.
Your eyes are the eyes
Of a woman in love.
And, oh, how they give you away.
Why try to deny you're a woman in love?
When I know very well what I say?
It appeared he floated in a vast ocean, and completely full of transparent ice floes. When he took a comprehensive view of the floes, he saw they formed an intricate tessellation of sorts, with the dark liquid seeping through the seams. Everything that surrounded him was dark, yet the sky shone so bright a white he wondered how the Damned Clan Island's climate shifted with so much difference in the light. The female voice reverberated, her song full of crescendos and decrescendos. The clear ice floes seemed to sway with the tune, as did the waves that surrounded him.
I say no moon in the sky
Ever lent such a glow.
Some flame, deep within, made them shine.
Those eyes are the eyes of a woman in love
And may they gaze ever more into mine
Tenderly gaze ever more into mine.
"Where the hell am I?" He whispered, his throat feeling coarse and parched. Everything stilled. The sweet lulling voice stopped.
Valdis dragged himself onto an ice floe, wondering at the ice's burning iciness. It was as if something fiery lived within.
"Why are you here?" a small girl demanded. Valdis settled himself into a more comfortable position and faced her. He was completely dry but did not stop to wonder why. Nothing made sense in this world.
"Maria!" He sputtered at the sight of her, while she sat calmly Indian style on the floe next to him. She tilted her head to the side with her narrowed eyes studying him, as if she could surmise the answer by his appearance.
"What am I doing here? What are you doing here? I bit you…you're supposed to be dead!"
"WELL! If all you have is negative comments, you are not allowed to be here." Then she sighed heavily and rested her head in her cupped hands. "Here we go again. All we do is bicker." Again, she studied him from head to toe.
Since he wouldn't break the silence, Maria decided to speak. "Is this what you saw before?" When she saw the puzzlement resting on his face, she continued, "When we touched. Did you see this in my mind?"
Valdis was incredulous. "This is your mind? I thought we were blown away from the Damned Clan Island." She looked at him expectantly. "I've never really took the time to learn about your mind," he admitted. "The first time, when you were unconscious, I entered and left as soon as possible. I…I found the fact of our relationship repugnant enough. I could hardly stand you as a person."
The bright sky darkened to a malevolent gray. Just as Valdis looked up to discern the cause, it lit up again as if veins of lightning had shot through.
"Well, I have no right to be disappointed for I thought the same towards you. What did you see the during the other encounters?" Maria almost seemed pleasant about their situation.
"I didn't. There was a block of sorts, each time we made contact. At first, I believed it was an advanced skill of your psychic abilities, but then I realized if you had that sort of capability, then I should have it also." Maria did not face him; instead she circled about, absorbing the view of the endless watery hills of ice. Her body remained still, it was the irregular block of ice that pivoted sluggishly.
"Yes, well, it's one of my talents. To speak the truth, it's my only talent; to block out others. Not many others can do that perpetually…"Her voice trailed off. If Valdis hadn't known her for a year or so, he could have sworn by the holy Goddess she was ashamed of herself.
"I am ashamed. What I mean is… You are the way you are because it is customary in your society to have such a hostile persona. But I, I have no true reason to be so apathetic towards the world." She held such contempt for herself Valdis found himself pitying her.
"You were lied to by your family," he offered. Maria shook her head.
"No, the Yolkens weren't lying. Mother believed I was truly her flesh and blood and therefore adamantly claimed me as her own. And, even in the event of doubt, what mother could turn away a helpless child? If Carol knew, it was kind of her to support me, not cruel."
Valdis made another attempt. "Your true mother…"
Maria interrupted again. "Yes, it was unfair for her to die so young. But others have dealt with their parent's death without resorting to a complete shut down emotional attempts. I simply gave up too soon, so any grief or sorrow I have brought upon myself for not trying to change at all." Her smile was simple, and her tone matter of fact. "I was spoiled and selfish to believe the world would change just because I became a pessimist. In order to change the unsatisfactories of life, you must take action to remedy them, not complain, or surrender to the circumstances."
Valdis was at a loss for words. The strange, optimistic philosophy was so unlike Mari Tybal he wondered just how much blood he took from her. "And you received this epiphany because…"
"Because I did. Epiphanies don't appear because of a certain act or reason. They pop up, like mushrooms." Maria began to hum the same soporific tune she heard earlier.
Valdis began to contemplate her words. He certainly didn't need any lessons on "action, not reaction" idea. Here he was, in the thick of the battle, fighting for what he believed in. Maria's voice broke into his pondering.
"But," she chirped loudly, talking to herself more than him, "in order to start my new resolution, I'll have to depart from here. Perhaps, someday, when I've done my shining good deeds to compensate the harm I've done to others, my mind won't appear so barren and destitute of feelings." While he listened to her, Valdis failed to notice the dimming of the mental cavern around him. By the time she stood, appearing ready to fight an army single handed, the line between of the huge walls and the sea of thoughts could barely be distinguished. The slabs of ice quivered, threatening to sink into the ocean.
Panicked, Valdis turned to Maria for aid. But she appeared placid, undisturbed by the growing instability. She raised her eyes from the nearing waters, and met his gaze. There was glassy shine to them, and a serene tranquillity washed over face.
"Just let go." All light fleeted from her mind, allowing the dark swallow it completely.
Valdis jerked his head up, only to realize he was not drowning. He looked down, and saw a small body of a teenage girl acting as his cushion. Maria was so chilled and blue she was scarcely recognizable. Two large punctures blemished her slender neck. Surrounding them was a pool of blood. Whose blood it was, he wasn't certain, but he knew Maria's condition was far worse than his. Hoping to find help, he glanced around, only to find himself in another white cavern. But this enclosure held suffocation instead of void. Originally, Valdis believed they escaped to her world for a few brief moments. But it must have been hours if there was time for a blizzard to coat around them both. Furious at Maria for shaking his beliefs, he tried to study her just as she did to him, for an answer.
For a moment, for the briefest of seconds, Valdis had believed every single word she had said. Yes, the world was cruel, and true, people were harsh. Maria had thrust the thought into his mind by simply complaining and lamenting these curses upon earth made him or her no better than those who made the living hell. It was simple as the saying: If you see a crime being committed but do not try to stop it, you help commit the crime yourself by allowing to continue.
But her appearance contrasted her optimistic look. The cadaverous visage seemed to show the product of all the malevolence the earth had burdened her. He wondered why the bite marks on her neck hadn't disappeared, and why her body allowed the below zero temperatures to affect her so. She should have healed instantly in her resilient body, just as he did. Yet there seemed no chance she would survive. No longer was she the stalwart, independent, and stubborn woman he detested. Here, lying underneath him, was a spindly, gangly creature who looked more fragile than a butterfly. A dead butterfly. How ironic, to sacrifice one self for a world that she had sought to spend the rest of her life changing.
"Innocence is the first casualty of war," he quoted somebody or other out loud. Here, this apocalyptic war had created innocence in the pessimist of all pessimists.
Valdis stopped his wandering thoughts and focused. He could either allow her to become another casualty of war like so many of his comrades. Or he could…save her, erase her memory through extensive reconstruction, and live happily ever after…a plan so foreign to a murderer such as himself that he did not know the means to go about it. What could he do now?
January 3, 2000
It had snowed for two days without a single stop. It was as if Mother Nature couldn't bear the sight of war, so she graced the horrendous blood with white powder. The blizzard drove them unwillingly to the tents. At the first sign of softening, many went in search of their friends.
Keller flipped over one decaying body and then moved on to another. Each second was crucial. Blank eyes met hers with each corpse she overturned. Some of the faces were charred beyond any recognition. Other remained forever frozen in their flawless bodies, yet still so strange, and alien that there was no sign that the creatures were ever alive. The sight of old friends broken or slashed to death twisted her insides to extreme pain, but there was no time to mourn. She had to find Galen.
He was supposed to be with the left branch that failed to surround the Night World. She was too busy to notice at the time, but Keller was later informed that the branches were brutally broken and obliterated. Many who were involved in that particular battle tactic had died.
Ignoring the bitter winds trying to derail her from her search, Keller heaved another body onto its back. "This one's a Daybreaker," she called to the wandering witches. Keller stepped aside as an elderly witch, mid thirties, began his healing spell. Spotting a hint of blonde hair under a bank of red snow, Keller sprinted quickly to the inert form. Only to find Trent's frozen body in her arms.
The bond was getting weaker. Keller could feel his thoughts, as if they were brushing against her skin like butterflies, but they were fading by the second. She had to find him before he was gone forever.
Keller tripped over a foot and landed face down in the snow. She was about to rip it off for stalling her from finding her soul mate when she saw whose foot it was. Still on all fours, Keller scrambled to Galen's side, who was buried under a foot of snow. Losing all coherent thoughts from her mind, Keller frantically scraped away the hard packed snow. With each handful of rocky ice, she could fell his presence shrinking away and his consciousness deteriorating. Sobs racked through her chest as her fingers became numb and clumsy with the raw, choppy ice.
Two days. He had been under the snow for two days.
Goddess, please. Please, oh please oh please, oh please. Not him, not my husband. I'll stop swearing just please, oh please, oh please, not him. I'll start praying to you more if you let him live. Just let him live and I'll do anything you want. Goddess, oh Goddess, Goddess, oh Goddess please, just let him live.
"PLEASE!" she cried hoarsely to the unfeeling gray sky. His upper body was exposed now, snow filling every cavity from in his jacket to in his ears. Hands shaking with fear, she let her fingers grasp his.
There was no link.
"Oh Goddess," she cried again. Suddenly she was angry. Why him? Why him, of all the people, why him? Somewhere on the cowardly enclaves were some Night Worlders still breathing, still living, for goddess' sake, but She decides to kill Galen? Galen, the man of peace, the man who gave up his stoic beliefs to fight for all of man kind, Galen deserves to die? There was no atom of common sense in the universe, there was no sense if Galen died.
Keller grabbed his shoulders and shook him furiously. His head simply lolled with her movements. "Dammit," she snarled, ignoring her previous oath to Goddess. "Dammit, Galen wake up. Wake up, you can't die now. You can't die now that we've won." There was no response.
Galen was taking his last breaths. Keller could feel the last traces of life slipping away from him. His face softened a bit, as if he told her not to worry, that it would be okay after his death. All strength and anger left her.
"Don't do that Galen," she whispered, brushing the snow from his hair, and hugged him closer to her. It shocked her to feel how cold he was. "Galen don't say good bye yet. You can't leave me here."
He didn't want to either. Keller knew he wasn't strong enough to from direct thoughts, but just fleeting feelings. Galen didn't want to leave her but he couldn't find the strength to fight it. The slight rises in his stopped.
Keller pulled back from him. Goddess, he looked so angelic and peaceful. It wasn't right. Why should he be at peace when I'm going through hell without him? She needed him, and there was no way she would give up.
"Galen please. Galen, wake up. You can't leave me. You can't leave me with the baby." Keller hardly knew what she was saying. "Please oh please oh please oh please oh please don't leave me. It would hurt too much; please don't leave…" She lost all control now, dropping Galen from her arms. Rocking back and forth, she hugged herself, trying to remember the feel of his embrace. Gone forever…
The feel of his lips against hers, gone forever. His laugh to never be heard again. His smile no more admired. Galen…died.
Keller brushed away the arms that tried to comfort her. Damn healing witches. They had no idea what she was going through. "Just go away, please just go away," she tearfully whispered. They said a few more meaningless words of sympathy and left her crouching in the snow, alone with the corpse. With no others watching her, Keller began to cry louder, unable to swallow the lumps in her throat. She didn't want to feel incomplete for the rest of her life, but now she had no choice. Galen died, despite all that she said, he left her.
Again she felt irritating arms attempting to mitigate her sorrow. Unable to muster enough anger, she simply leaned into them, not caring who held her so tenderly. I have to depend on others now, she realized dimly, now that I don't have Galen. But even as she thought this, she shook the arms off. Keller wasn't ready, not ready to accept it. If I had arrived two hours, two minutes earlier…
"It wouldn't have made a difference." Keller's head snapped up, looking for the person who dared to read her mind, especially at a time like this. But there was nobody around her, save a few lurid bodies. Slowly, fearing disappointment, she lowered her eyes.
Galen laid very still, like a broken doll. But, if she looked very carefully…his eyelashes moved. It wasn't the wind, she was sure of it, it had to be him…
Keller found herself staring into his beautiful eyes. For endless moments that seemed to stretch into centuries, the husband and wife simply gazed at each other. Then, with great effort, he opened his mouth and whispered very quietly:
"You're pregnant?" Before she could nod, he closed his eyes and passed out.
~*~*~*~
Camp site
"Where did the wood hit?" Kestrel refused to wince as a witch dabbed a wet cloth at her wounds. Well, not so much dabbed. She seemed to stab Kestrel's thighs with a strange viciousness for a nurse.
"It didn't hit at any particular spot, Thea. The wooden ax fell, or smashed rather, onto something very hard, and the splinters went flying every where."
"I don't believe it would have exploded if it fell on a rock. At what point of the battle did this happen?" Kestrel rolled her eyes at the interrogation, knowing it wouldn't pinpoint the exact reason the lower portion of her body was full of tiny toothpicks. Pretending to contemplate to Thea's suggestions, she looked about the their miniature hospital. Despite the battle leaders assurances of Circle Daybreak's of victory, they obviously didn't think too optimistic of their numbers. It was absolutely enormous, most likely the size of three circus tents combined, although held together for a more serious reason. Kestrel finally focused on Thea's flapping lips when she began to repeat herself.
"Well, the last thing I did was take care of a wolf who was using Del's leg as a chew toy. Who, by the way, was nowhere in sight. Ouch, dammit! You're a fu…" Thea gave her a warning look. "…freaking witch, couldn't you find some hocus pocus that didn't sting!" The middle aged witch muttered some words of apology, but her expression suggested everything but sincerity.
"Ow! Fuck!" She yelled when the supposed healer roughly slapped a cloth full of the stinging liquid on her thigh, where embedded splinters were bent.
Kestrel shushed immediately when others, presumably those who wandered in search of loved ones, passed through the flaps of the tent. And there were also some who carried in limp bodies in their arms. One girl, Lupe, appeared to hang on to life by a thread. They wore grave expressions as they reported the dead and the injured to the shifter in charge of the attendance. Soon, a long line appeared in front of the makeshift desk, forming along the walls. She had spent so much time waiting for medical help (after Quinn forced her in there) and then finally receiving it, Kestrel was surprised to see dusk falling on the snowy hills.
She strained her hearing senses towards the desk of gloom.
"Raven Mandril…dead."
"Thank you," was the solemn reply. "Next."
"Valerian Stillman…dead."
"Thank you. Next."
"Lionel Savannah dead."
"Thank you. Next."
Then came some sobbing and faltering voices, daybreakers who hadn't fully accepted the reasons for their friends' deaths.
"Tina," sob, sob, "and Warren," sob, sob, sob, "were at the edge of the basin," sob…
Kestrel almost rolled her eyes, the gravity of the situation holding her back. Whoever was bawling at the desk should have waited to collect herself and then report the deaths.
"And they," sob, sob, "almost escaped. But," and here there was an enormous inhale, "they were killed."
The man at the desk had more patience with the girl than Kestrel could have in her little toe. That is when she wasn't hunting. Kestrel watched and observed distractedly to pass the time. Some came with one death to report, others with ten. The "thank you, next" phrases disappeared as most expressed the desire to sleep. With only one day of battle, it felt as if they would have centuries of exhaustion.
Maybe that wheel chair idea wasn't so bad, Kestrel thought as she limped out the door. A few bystanders outside the exit gentlemanly held the flaps for her. Just as she vouchsafed a rare, non predatory smile of thanks to them, a blur of blue parka and black hair knocked her flat on her back. The rolled out linoleum did nothing to cushion her fall.
"Just who the fuck do you think you are, running like there's some damn ghost…" Kestrel soon ran out of expletives while the same men who held the flaps for her helped her up. "…shit, that just undid all the damn work that fucking witch just did…" But those around her were too preoccupied to acknowledge her ranting or too fearful to look towards her. One boy who helped her up, James she guessed, laughed at her anger. Ignoring this, Kestrel took a breath, looking for the unlucky bastard who knocked her down. She wasn't in any condition to fight right now, but she sure as hell could put him or her on her hit list for later months.
"Sorry, Redfern," a woman's voice called to her, "but I don't give a damn about your condition right now." Kestrel narrowed her eyes and scowled at Keller at the east end of the infirmary. But the panther was too ecstatic to notice, hovering over somebody in a hospital bed. Most likely Galen.
Kestrel pondered this as she made her way to her own tent for some shut eye. She could have sworn Winnie came earlier to report his death. As she cautiously laid herself onto the warm, wobbly bed, she thanked the blessed soul who thought of using the Night Worlders' cots.
Quinn peeked through the tent flaps as quietly as possible. Good, she was sleeping. As Ash's best, possible only, good friend, it was his duty to watch over and protect all annoying little sisters. When he saw her in the training fields, he almost ran out to her, stuffed her in a box, and sent her to Briar Creek as a belated Christmas present. If it wasn't for the upcoming battle and Rashel's words of wisdom, he would have done exactly that. Via email, he sent Ash a promise of her protection, but it did not make him like her more. Even before she had run away from her parents' household, Quinn abhorred her uncompromising determination.
He sauntered to his own tent when he heard Rashel call for him. His step was less graceful than the usual pace, but wood poisoning in his left ankle could not be cured instantly. As he cut through a sloppy line gathering around the entrance of the clinic, he listened to one girl's words at the front.
"I'm sorry, Kyros, but Nissa's…gone…" Quinn did not bother to listen to the rest. He knew Nissa, but he did not understand why it affected Kyros, the arctic fox shifter in charge. Oh yes, he remembered, they were dating for quite some time now…
"John!" He turned to the startled voice on the other side of the powdered path between the tents. Before she could say any more, Quinn crossed over and whisked her back into the tent, which was comparatively large because they roomed with other strategists. Rashel wasn't injured, but it wouldn't do any good to have her catch pneumonia. "How did you know I was looking…oh right your ears are…better. I don't know why I still can't get used to that. Any ways, I asked Morgead where you were and he said that you were peeping in some girl's tent. Anything I should know about?"
Quinn smirked and laid on a cot as Rashel began to pack their clothes. "Not really. Just checking up on the brat."
"The brat?"
"Ash's little sister. You know Kestrel, blond, skinny…" He paused, searching for another word. "…bratty."
Rashel looked up from the mess of plans on the table. "Kestrel is hardly a brat, John. You should have seen her moves out there, absolutely precise and…creative, which I suppose is a fitting word. I don't believe there's any reason for you to protect her." Rashel became irritated when Quinn scratched his head and yawned, not at all bothering to even pretend he heard her. She picked up a pile of his clothes and threw it at his head.
Quinn remained still under the heap of clothes, wondering what action he could take without looking like a fool. Deciding there was no way of avoiding embarrassment, he sat up and threw back his clothes. Rashel evaded them easily. Their small game of dodge ball continued until Thierry popped his head in and ordered them to quiet down or he'd separate them.
"You're going to knock your tent down, not to mention the others'." He struggled to keep a stern expression as the two bursts into laughter at the absurdity of the situation. Here he was, head of the organization that defeated the Night World, trying to be the baby sitter of two full grown employees. He sighed and headed for his own quarters.
Abruptly, he felt a familiar presence by his side and wrapped his arm around Hannah's shoulders. He had sworn in anger that he would never speak to her again if she appeared, but found himself babbling a million words a minute the second he found her on his cot.
"So," he began after a comfortable silence, "are you ever going to tell me what happened?"
"I've already told you," she sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. "I simply spoke to her. Just like I told Delos, and, despite the immeasurable doubt, I succeeded in curing her."
"Where is Delos by the way?"
"With Jez, Poppy, and Iliana, sharing their experiences in the intensive care unit. So you could guess where Morgead, James, and Winnie are. I've decided not to tell Maggie about Delos' condition until she had the opportunity to visit him."
"And about curing Maria…"
"Mari," Hannah corrected, feeling somebody should since the girl was nowhere in sight.
"Whatever. How do you know if she's even all right? There's not a trace of her any where, Hannah, not a single trace. All Aradia described when she visited the place Maria was last seen was…what was it? Oh, right, 'a pure sense of evil. Absolute evil.' If that's where Maria was, I highly doubt you've done any good."
"But you don't know if the evil was radiated from her. It could have been someone else… I'd rather not brainstorm tonight, Thierry. Let's just get some rest and worry about it, oh let's say, a week from now."
"How do you know she won't be dead by then?" Thierry held the flap for her and walked in after her. In the complete darkness, he could still see the complete faith of her friends shining in Hannah's eyes.
"Because, Thierry, Mari is a survivor."
~*~*~*~
Six months later…
Las Vegas, Nevada
"Darling, sweetie, kitten, my hand…" Galen grimaced as the grip only tightened.
"I am delivering our baby to the world," she snarled as another contraction came and continued. "And you are worrying about your hand." For a moment, she appeared to calm down, and then another wave of pain washed over her. Since she couldn't very well yell at the midwife, she faced Galen at her side. "WHY THE HELL ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT YOUR HAND?"
Galen yelped at the same time as her fingernails dug into his skin. "You know, you're right, I'm selfish, I should be thinking about the baby…ow, ow, OW!! Dammit, that hurts," he muttered under his breath.
Keller glanced at him reprovingly. "Don't swear around our baby. I don't want the first things it hears to be bad words."
Winnie ran through the door, holding a plastic cup in her hands as if it was the Holy Grail. "It's okay, Galen, I'm here for her. Here, Keller, chips of ice always seems to calm down humans." She was obviously ecstatic to play nurse.
Keller snatched the cup out of her hand and threw bits of ice at the both of them. "I don't want damn pieces of ice! Out, all of you, right now! No wait not you," she called in a somewhat gentle tone to the midwife. Actually, it was imperious and commanding, but a vast improvement compared to the tones she used with her friend and soul mate.
"If that's what you think is best, then I think I should go. Come on Winnie." Galen rushed out quickly, towing Winnie behind him. Obviously the part of playing nurse had lost its appeal, for she was out of the room before he was. Out in the hall way, they listened with impatience for any infant cry.
"Come on, Keller, push. Don't forget to breathe, now push…"
"Will you stop telling me to push! I know I should push and I know how to breathe, you push and see how hard it is!"
An hour and ten minutes later, a soft mewing could be heard from the room, and Galen cautiously peeked in. There lay Keller, still flushed and radiant from the ordeal of labor, cradling a small bundle of blanket in her arms. As he walked over, Galen spied a tiny head of blonde hair, and alert unblinking blue eyes.
"It's a boy," she whispered, lifting it up to Galen's view. He spent endless minutes staring into his son's eyes, while Keller looked up at the both of them contentedly.
Of course, periods of restful peace never lasted longer than an hour in mansion.
"Whew!" Winnie swept in with a hand on her head as if she had done all the work. "Thank Goddess that's over! I was afraid I was going to burst." Keller raised an eye brow.
"Right…Thanks Winnie, I couldn't have done it with out you," she said dryly.
"Why didn't we just take her to the hospital instead of wreaking havoc here?" Iliana asked as she appeared at the bed side.
"And just how would we explain to the doctor if he came out with a tail and ears?" Winnie was rarely caustic, but when she was it was positively scathing sarcasm.
Iliana shrugged. "Mind control or whatever. I bet you woke up the entire city."
"Iliana, this is Las Vegas. Everybody is already awake at midnight."
"And if we were sleeping, we don't mind any way," a new voice called from the door. Nilsson smiled and suggested that the others leave and let her and the baby rest.
After checking up on the newest addition to Circle Daybreak, Nilsson was summoned to Thierry's office.
"You called for me?" Thierry sat at his desk, trying with obvious frustration to solve a colored cube. At the sound of his voice, Thierry looked up and threw it in the trash can.
"It was a stupid toy any way," he shrugged. "I hear that we might have hints of the whereabouts of Maria." Nilsson nodded.
"Yes, that is correct. According to the spies, a girl similar to her description is living happily in Marietta, Georgia."
"Well, if she fits the description, Nilsson, why not just go ahead and say it's her? We're all tired and reluctant to even go further in this mission. Hannah's the only one interested."
"Yes, Thierry, I know. You've been saying the same thing for the past six months."
"So why can't you just say this is Maria Tybal, she's alive, well and out of our hair."
"Because, Thierry, although she somewhat fits the physical description, she does not at all act like the Tybal we know. Reports say she has friends, dates, and a daily exercise routine. And we all know that she absolutely hated walking up the stairs," he reminded with a knowing smile.
"We can't spend any more time on this," Thierry stated firmly. "If this is the closest case we've got, then so be it. Now all that matters is her safety. Does this city appear to have any Night World citizens seeking revenge?"
"No, sir, not in the least. And, if I do say so myself, I'm sure she could handle it herself."
~*~*~*~
"Who discovered that you could get milk from cows, and what the HELL did he think he was doing at the time?" Unknown
It in no way whatsoever relates to the chapter, but I thought it thought provoking and hella funny!
