Disclaimer: All the characters and certain fictional supernatural organizations were created and belong to the author L.J. Smith. That was an unnecessarily long disclaimer wasn't it? :0)
Author's Note: If you haven't figured it out, I'm partial to the Yankees. And if you like any other baseball teams, congratulations but I don't care. Don't you come around reviewing because of my comments about other teams. This part mainly ties up some loose ends.
Frozen Fire
July 5, 2000
The last thing he remembered was fighting tooth and nail. Abruptly, that memory shifted to awakening in a grayish white basin, half buried in snow, while more fell perpetually from above. It was frustrating not knowing what happened in between. All that he knew what occurred in the hours of his unconsciousness was the loss of the blue fire. The second he opened his eyes, the underlying current of electricity that ran in his blood since the day he was born was gone. For this reason, he could breathe, simply breathe as, not as an instrument to save the world and not as a savior to anybody, but as himself. Delos Redfern, vampire extrordinaire and nothing else. Literally, Delos stopped carrying the world on his shoulders.
But when he also awoke, the moments of this relieving discovery were short lived. At first, he believed for the rest of eternity, the world would suffer at the cruel hands of the Night World. After getting to his unstable feet, he saw bodies as far as his eyes could see. And, considering his specialized vision, it must have been an immeasurable number.
Six thousand. Six thousand had died in action and in the following forty eight hours a blizzard froze their bodies into a glacial and massive grave yard. And yet the Night World only suffered, roughly, five thousand casualties. At least by Circle Daybreak's hands, that's what the witches said. He, and the others…simply stopped the rest in the blink of an eye. Those of Circle Daybreak survived, but all who sided with the dark were obliterated. An autopsy of one unfortunate soul showed cardiac arrest, but it would never be certain if that was how all the Night Worlders were affected. And Delos had never heard of selective blue fire.
Delos could still feel the tears freezing in his eyes at the sight of them. He should have been happy for their victory, but a Pyrrhic victory.
"Delos? Hello, I have caller ID so I know it's you…" Delos blinked several times, shaking himself from the memories.
"Maggie! Yeah, hi, just zoned out for a minute there…" He heard her fuzzy laugh through the telephone.
"Never in my life would I imagine you zoning out. What's up?"
"Hannah wanted directions for your new apartment and since you have a new cell phone number…"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Delos, I thought we agreed it's our new apartment. In fact, for some strange reason I remember you saying, yes it's our apartment darling…"
"Then you must have been dreaming because I never said that. Besides, Mags…" Delos looked around him and continued when he found the hall way empty and heard nobody in the rooms. "It's improper." There was a long pause on the other line. In fact, there seemed to be a long pause in every telephone conversation they shared.
"Right… So, it's proper for you to sneak into my room at night when I visited Thierry's mansion but improper for us to live together. What, are you afraid I have germs or something?" Now she began to sound defensive and Delos could never win an argument when she became riled up. He could almost envision her hand clenching defensively.
"No," he answered patiently. "Bacteria cells don't kill vampires, honey. And even if they did, I'd live with you with antibacterial cream at hand." Somehow, that didn't come out as flattering as it sounded in his mind.
"Fine. I'll just take my big screen tv and put it in my car, and drive them off a bridge!" Delos pulled the phone away, but she still managed to do some ear damage.
"Okay, okay, okay, we'll review this. We're engaged, not married, but you propose to live together."
"Think of the mileage, the gasoline with sky high prices, that you'll save for not having to pick me up! And if you still insist upon not moving in on me, we'll just stop having…"
"FINE! Fine, Maggie, I'll pack my stuff today and I'll be there tomorrow. I promise, honey, just don't do that."
"Delos, calm yourself down. I had no idea that you enjoyed my massages so much! Bye now!" There was a faint tinkly laugh and then the dial tone. Delos' jaw dropped open. The little manipulator!
On his way out, arms so full of boxes he could barely see ten inches in front of him. At his last obstacle, the massive doors of the main entrance, Delos wondered if there was a way to get a free hand to open the door handle and not unload his burden.
Suddenly there was a gust of wind and Delos heard the quick voice of Kyros.
"Hey, Del, thought things would move along faster if the door was open."
Raised in the New York Bronx with an accent to prove it, the shifter made the hated nickname even more irritating.
"It's Delos, and thanks," he gave a muffled reply.
"I'm off for a new mission, thanks for asking. In fact, I'm one of the few who are, what with all the vamps and shifters migrating to their enclaves." Kyros talked rapidly and cheerfully, and, much to Delos' annoyance, switched subjects like a bee with his flowers. "I'm glad you finally moved in with Maggie. Don't worry, not eavesdropping just assumed from the boxes. Oh, gotta go, see ya around Del!"
"It's Delos and good riddance," he muttered. The boxes dropped in the trunk of the Montero with a thud.
Thierry's head whipped up of the swift steps echoing down the hall. Before he could set down the cinnamon bun Hannah attempted to bake, Kyros appeared at the door.
"Hey, boss, how ya doin'? Cinnamon, huh, I don't really care for the spice myself, but if you like that sweetness, nothing beats nutmeg. Nutmeg will do ya a world of good, and it's not limited to deserts either. Of course, nothing beats chasing down a human in the woods huh, boss?" Thierry raised his eyebrows in alarm.
"Did I say human, I meant rabbit, and I don't care for bloodshed myself." The agent gave a disarming smile. "That last mission was so simple I was amazed that the vamps simply didn't stake themselves for cryin' out loud, that's how easy it was. What's next, mass suicides? Now, don't get me wrong, they're my kin, I understand we need to convert them or what not. But between you and me, I don't think we need those kind of chatter boxes in Circle Daybreak. These Night Worlders from the enclaves don't know nothing about the real world so they go on about embroidery, their yachts…Eh, who needs that? So what' sup now boss?"
Through the short chat (and Thierry knew from experience that it was a short chat) he settled himself onto a divan. A young man of considerable height, with a wiry frame and reddish orange hair, brown bright eyes, and skin as pale the land of his namesake, Kyros Snow (of no relation to the Lady of the household) personified the summer Arctic Fox to the last detail.
"There is a girl," Thierry began, unconsciously taking a slower rhythm than Kyros', "that fits the description of Maria Tybal."
"Her name? Cuz, you know, boss, I'm gonna kinda hafta know her name if I'm gonna go lookin' for her." It appeared that sarcasm was a prerequisite before entering Circle Daybreak.
He sighed a very tired sigh. "Her name is Maria Tybal…" Kyros let out a bark of laughter.
"Well, boss, I don't think we need to go checking her out if she's got the right name and physical features."
"We need to know if she remembers anything, or if her mysterious rescuer tampered with her memory. She just moved to New York to complete her last years of college and since you've been working for quite some time, this could be an opportunity for you to visit some family and old friends."
Kyros pondered it for some time, scratching his head and rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know. I don't like to mix my personal life with the missions. You know how it is, if one slips away and follows me to my ma's house and then they know how to get to me. It's not safe."
"You won't be killing anybody on this mission, Kyros."
"Hey, you don't know that for sure. I could go to Milwaukee for some ice fishing and end up killing somebody. Life's unpredictable like that." It was at times like this that made Thierry wonder if Rashel and Quinn trained their men to be too prepared.
"Listen, all you have to do is befriend her, find out if she knows, subtly I might add, and then get out. She's new, so she'll be eager for new friends, I hope. Geez, Kyros, I thought you'd be grateful."
"Befriend her? You're asking me to get chummy with the little imp?"
"NO arguments. Out, now." What was supposed to be a quick day at the office began to look like back to back meetings. What was it about post Final Battle that made daybreakers so chatty?
Kyros raised his hands as a sign of surrender and slowly backed out of the office. Just when Thierry thought he was gone, his messy head of hair popped back into view. "You know for a guy who's thousands of years old, you don't have much patience." Kyros narrowly dodged the end of an envelope opener and sprinted out the mansion. What was it about post Final Battle that made the Elder so cranky?
~*~*~*~
July 7, 2000
Clayton, California
"I feel like the kids who tied up their baby sitters and kicked them outta the house." Morgead stretched luxuriously, making Jez shift next to him. It was a tight squeeze on the lawn chair, but it was cozy. The remnants of the Goddard barbecue still stuck to the grill. It was her uncle's idea to let Morgead try their new gas grill.
"I know. It was strange to know Quinn was watching our every move and probably making fun of us." Morgead gave a sound of agreement that sounded very much like a snore and Jez nudged him awake.
"I wanted to see Maggie and Del's new apartment. They're settling in Washington, you know."
"Yeah, I know, I don't feel like driving up all the way up there. Maggie's okay, but Delos annoyed me sometimes. He was too head strong, and he always thought he was right. Too damn stubborn if you ask me."
Jez's lips twisted into a wry smile. "Yeah, I'd hate to be stuck with a guy like that."
"Hardy, har, har. Claire was bugging me about a wedding date. What the hell is that? We're engaged and we need to date?"
"No genius, she meant the date of the wedding. Do you feel like getting married in a hurry?"
Taking his silence as "I want to say no, but I don't know if that will make you mad," Jez continued.
"I don't either. I like staying engaged for a long time, see how it feels. Then, when we're good and ready we'll buy me a dress, you a top hat, and take the last mile down the aisle. Okay?"
"Got it." His blithe tone showed happiness to her decision.
There was no hurry. After all, he was a vampire who could stop aging, and Jez could become a vampire if she chose to do so, though the possibility of that was slim to none. And both were certain to make the use of every moment they had together. Jez supposed the near end of the world had the same effect on their friends.
"I hear," he began, "that Hannah's planning to organize little reunion parties at least once a year now that so many kids have moved out. Think anybody's going to come?" Morgead tried to visualize the mansion in permanent emptiness and shook off the depressing image.
"Probably not all of them, since everybody has their own life now and there aren't pests to take care of. And maybe it won't be empty all the time. Maybe Hannah and Thierry will luck out and be able to have children. If they don't, I remember Hannah telling me that she would adopt if necessary. I hate the picture of them alone in that giant of a mansion."
"Hey, speaking about being alone, I think it's high time we found Claire a boyfriend." Jez's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "She's always picking on us about our relationship. ' Our' being the key word there."
"I think if Claire wants a boyfriend, she'd have one by now. She doesn't need out help, Morgead." Jez loved her fiancé to pieces, but not when he began to criticize and nit pick her family.
"See, that's the problem. She thinks she doesn't want a boyfriend, but all she needs to do is meet the right guy, and boom! They're in love. And I have the perfect man in mind."
Still suspicious but also intrigued, Jez said, "Go on."
"Philip."
"Philip North?" Jez began to laugh. "Philip North, you want to set up Claire with Philip North. Morgead, that's crazy."
"Why? He's close by, I'm told he's cute ( but, let's face it, he doesn't hold a candle to me) reliable, and willing to serve and protect a woman he loves. The last point was illustrated by his love of Poppy and their mother."
"You just described a puppy. How are James and Poppy, by the way?"
"Fine. Any who," he continued, "he's been hinting for some time that he's interested in her. At least, I think he's hinting…"
"He must be ten years older than her!"
"More like four or something. He only acts ten years older than her. Any way, I invited him over for next month's barbecue. Now all we have to sit back and watch the fire works."
"You're crazy," she said again, but Jez was willing to let the subject drop.
"Yeah, but that's why you love me." Jez opened her mouth to shoot out another jibe, but found herself smiling instead. He was right.
~*~*~*~
July 8, 2000
New York City, New York
"OOF!" All the heavy and, unfortunately, fragile books fell scattered all over the third flight of stairs. She hoped they wouldn't soak up the tracks of muddy water her feet left on her way up.
"Oh sorry, about that," the man who bumped into her apologized. With surprising strength for a man of his lithe build, he helped her off and swiftly retrieved all the books.
"I'm new to this neighborhood. Bullfinch's Mythology? What, do you have trouble sleeping?" She opened her arms to take the books, but he continued walking up the stairs and motioned with his head to lead the way.
"No," she said shortly. "It's my major. Mythology's very interesting actually, if you get past the strange names." Normally, she wouldn't have been so brusque with a man who just helped her, but he insulted Greek Mythology. Somebody had to defend it.
"Sorry." She spied an amused smile on his lips and found herself smiling back.
"No, I'm sorry. I mean, thanks. Thanks and sorry. I just find myself defending mythology to a lot of people."
"Well, I guess you have to delve a little deeper in the stories to get it. One look at the names like Hephestus, and I shut the book. I'm Kyros by the way, Kyros Snow. I'd offer a hand but, they're kind of full right now."
"Maria Tybal." Since his hands were taken, she patted him on the back. "No, don't go on," she said as he was about to walk up to the fifth and final flight of stairs. "This is my floor, the fourth. Kyros sounds familiar…" she murmured as struggled with the key and lock on an ancient looking door.
Kyros cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Oh is it?" Behind the rickety and creaking door laid a small and crowded apartment, full of quirky objects. The walls were yellow in an attempt to bring more light in the cramped space, the furniture blue, and the lamps, and other necessities had no connection in styles at all. But somehow, in the cluttered mess she called home, the mismatched objects worked to give the impression of a sloppy but educated child.
"Yes, oh, I'm sorry, come in. Kyros, Kyros…that means ice in Greek, doesn't it?"
"I just always assumed Kyros rhymed with gyros and that was the only Greek connection. Tasty, too. Hey, you tell me. You're the major here."
"Would you like something to drink? Yes, I'm fairly certain that Kyros means ice. Ice Snow, I must say it isn't a fitting name, you look like a very lively fellow. And with that burning bush of hair I would have figured you were Irish." The way she looked at it made him unusually self conscious. He studied her as she searched for something in the cupboard.
Still short, she had traded in the waist long jetty tresses for a tapered and softly curled do that fell just a little lower than her shoulders. Her once glowing amber eyes had calmed down to a bright brown behind sooty lashes. Full, lips that normally held a pout or indifferent stance now looked puckered and slightly chapped, as Maria appeared to constantly bite them, as if holding back words. On her left wrist, he saw faint pink lines zigzagging for two or three inches. It gave him a twinge of sadness when he realized that she reminded him of a shorter copper skinned Nissa. But then again, five months ago he saw a resemblance of Nissa in Ash Redfern. He assumed that now he was only reminded of Nissa in just females meant that he was leaving the delusional grief.
"Now that you've shown off your knowledge, it's my turn," he joked when they settled to the tiny table in the breakfast nook. "Tybal…Tybal…means princess, right? Well, I've never heard of a princess choosing to live in the dark tower." He gestured around them, referring to the limited space.
"Whatever works, ya know? I gotta bed, a tv, and a refrigerator. And then some extras. What more could you ask for?" The longer she talked, the more she started to sound like him. It was faint but noticeable accent of New Jersey.
"Ya got an accent?" He almost added that he never heard one from her lips before, but that would have ruined his plan.
Maria put a hand to her lips as if she just burped. "Oh, it slips out once in a while. I don't like it much, makes me sound like a thug. It's been forever since I've been influenced by my cousins in Newark. We used to visit there, me and my family, because of my grandpa. We used to visit every summer, since I was a baby…and now I'm talking too much so I'll just shut up…"
"So I sound like a thug? Thanks." For a moment, Maria looked perplexed, and then she laughed.
"I'm sorry, I don't seem to be myself. I mean, I just invited a total stranger into my apartment and insulted him. Do you go to NYU?"
"NYU? Oh, New York University. Nah, I've already done the college thing."
She smiled, probably wondering just how old he was.
"Ya gotta boyfriend?" If anybody did erase her memory, he probably still hung around. And Thierry did mention something about that.
"No, no boyfriend. No friends at all, actually, I just moved here too. Listen, as much as I'd like to sit here and chat, I've gotta study and…"
"Study? It's July, there's no school."
"Yeah, but I've gotta catch up with everything I've forgotten. I always manage to flush out everything I've learned in the first week of June." She stood up and looked ready to see him to her door. "You're going to move in right?" It seemed logical, because she hadn't seen him around and why else would he be loitering in her building? "Well, then we'll see each other another time."
"Wait," he said, too urgently. Maria looked at him as if he were crazy. "Wait," he said in a calmer tone, "I could help you. You know, help you study."
"But you said that mythology was boring." Kyros began to regret his words and her tendency to notice details.
"Yeah, for you I might make an exception." The flirtatious reply came out before he could stop it. Kyros caught himself; this was Maria. Maria Tybal of all people. Flirt with her and you might lose a limb.
Instead of blushing, Maria gave him a look that clearly expressed derisive disbelief. But she didn't refuse, she simply said, "Go ahead and try."
Settling once again in kitchen chairs, Kyros executed his mission, ready to leave as soon as possible.
"Who is Delos?" Maria remained stone-faced momentarily before she smiled again. The act alone made Kyros surmise something life altering did in fact happen on the Damn Clan Island.
"It's not who is Delos, it's what. Delos was the name of a sacred island where the treasury for the Delian League, Athens' alliance with other city states, excluding Sparta. The Delian League freed Ionia from the Persians and also purged the Aegean Sea of pirates. Somebody had some god's kid there, but I forget…Zeus and…Iona. Am I right? Or somebody and somebody. See? Literary amnesia!"
Puzzlement was written all over his face. "Uh, yes, you're right." I think. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Who is Galen?"
"Galen was a Greek physician who provided the Romans with the basis for medical science. He dissected dogs and apes and discovered that arteries carried blood, but he also believed the liver digested food. His views were later proved wrong by Andreas Vesalius in 1543. Not exactly mythological though…"
Huh, never knew that one. "Does the name Jezebel ring any bell?"
"Um…the definition of a promiscuous, devious, and or all in all bad woman? That's not even Greek! Kyros, I thank you for your efforts to spark my knowledge in the miscellaneous, but I do need to study so if you hurry along now." By this time she was pushing him out the door.
"Wait!" He needed more time to find out if she was bluffing. Damn, why didn't Thierry send a vampire to figure this out? "I know mythology…um, who was Cupid's mother?" The door slammed shut an inch from his face.
Then it reopened, but only a little crack to show Maria's small face. "In Greek mythology, his name was Eros and his mother was Aphrodite, fathered by Ares…or somebody. See you around!" The door shut for a final time. With a shrug, Kyros sauntered down the hall, whistling a merry tune. He fished in his pockets for his cell phone and a smoke.
"Are you sure she doesn't remember anything?" Thierry's voice was unusually urgent, for he had expressed little interest in this particular case.
"Pretty sure. Damn, I meant yes, absolutely sure she doesn't know anything. Now question in my mind. Dumb as an ox, blind as Aradia. Oops, sorry just got used to saying that, I know she sees now. Doesn't know a single thing…You don't believe me do you?" To Thierry, "pretty sure" and "almost certain" didn't cut it. Kyros remembered this far too late.
"We've just got wind of some vampires wanting justice for the defeat. And, ever since we've been finishing off the rest of the Night World, a strong case of…"
"Nationalism?"
"I wasn't sure if you could have nationalism without an established country. But yes, nationalism has been sweeping through the survivors of the Night World, and new leaders are seeking to remove the main causes of their loss. Circle Daybreak, and…"
"Maria, got ya. You know, I saw a similar situation after World War I. The underdogs won the war, and then they tried to quell the Germans. Big mistake, it just made them even more eager to win and thus, World War II."
"So you're saying we have to watch out for a blood sucking Hitler?" Kyros made his way to an alley in viewing distance of Maria's building.
"Hey, when was there not a blood sucking Hitler? It was a joke, you know Hitler was a bad man, blood sucking…" Thierry made no response. "Yeah, well not everybody's a comedian. I'm just saying ya better not try to kill their spirit as well. People willing to sacrifice everything for the mother country, or in this situation, the mother organization, are dangerous and unpredictable. Check out the Palestinian situation."
"Kyros, the people of the Night World were already unpredictable and dangerous before the Battle. Just pay attention because you're staying on this mission. If they find out Maria knows what she did and is living happily ever after, they'll kill her."
"They'd kill her any way boss, whether she knew or not." Kyros felt bored and tired and his voice showed it. He took a drag of his cigarette and continued. "Listen, I gotta go, boss."
"Are you smoking?"
Kyros snorted, "What's it gonna do kill me? Don't get on my case about smoking, boss, I get enough about that from my ma." He blew the smoke out his nose, getting a look of disgust from an elderly woman who passed him, and a look of approval from her cigar toting husband. With a single look from him, the mister seemed to say, Enjoy and indulge while you can, boy, before you get married. Distracted, the fox shuddered at the thought. Kyros guessed smoking was the only indulgence the man got in the marriage.
"Just find out, and send your mother my regards."
"No can do, boss. She hears about you one more time and she'll fall in love. Eager for options. You know how middle aged women get."
Actually, he had no idea, but continued. "Oh, are your parents having marital trouble?"
"Right now, they're getting along great. Dad's in Canada." Kyros took a quick glance towards her building, and saw that she had stood on the steps and hailed a taxi. "Boss, she's leaving but she said she was going to study. What do I do?" In his office, Thierry rolled his eyes. This was the first time Kyros was the leader of his own mission and he was evidently in need of orders.
"Kyros, what do you think you should do?"
"I…uh…I could follow her or search her apartment. Which one? Which one, which one…I could follow her and then search her apartment! Thanks boss, I gotta go."
Not bothering to use his motorcycle two blocks away, Kyros easily kept the same pace of the yellow car. Taking minute breaks to catch his breath, and mentally wishing he could shift into animal form without the danger of dog catchers, he watched covertly as she made several stops. A gym, a library, a hospital, a pay phone the subway (in which he selected a seat two cars away from her)…the chase finally ended in a rundown block of Jersey City. He watched from afar as she walked up to a three story apartment complex still decorated with Christmas lights, and ignored the whistles, cat calls, and vulgar invitations of the drunks and loafers on the neighboring porches. At her knock, she was greeted by an African woman who looked tired beyond her years. The two shook hands and stepped inside.
He leaned on a car, preparing to stretch his auditory senses to eavesdrop, when one of the men who petitioned Maria yelled out to him.
"Hey, fag! Get your ass off of my car!" Ah, the eloquent language of the Jersey streets, he thought with a sneer. But, then again, the Bronx wasn't much better.
The man, who almost overflowed out of the dirty wife beater he wore, took a full five minutes to simply stand up and glare at him. Kyros glared back vehemently, after all the man was interfering with his mission. He may not have had the muscles of other shifters, such as bears or lions, but he did have quickness and precision. Even without them, Kyros couldn't see how he could lose against this boar of a man. And, with six months without real excitement (for the missions had consisted of fleeing vampires and shifters, a pity really) a fight was readily anticipated.
The sweaty tub of fat saw the violent eagerness and verve in Kyros' eyes, and took a step back. "I wasn't gonna fight ya! Just get your ass off my car!" He supposed that was the closest to an apology he would get from him, so Kyros nodded and leaned against a rusty fence instead. A fight would have distracted me any way, he realized and turned all attention to Maria. Soon, after he struggled to block out all the other bustling sounds of the city, two faint voices filled his ears.
"…and I know this is probably the last thing you'd want to hear about. But…"
"Say no more, I know what you're getting at, and the answer is no. But I did know her, we lived across each other, in the worse part of town." He could almost imagine Maria biting her bottom lip again, for even he thought there was no way the city could be worse than the old, dirty, and decaying living conditions that surrounded him.
"...and, despite my warning, she went any way. But the poor girl. She couldn't go through it, she made herself sick just thinking about it. Instead of going to the broker's apartment, she went to Teddi. So, technically, she never was one because she never really had a customer."
"So…why did she even want to be one?"
"Well, she never really told me. I assume it was family troubles, because the day she moved in ( I was helpin' her, you see) I handed her a picture of her and her parents to put on a table. But she told me, 'Martha, just leave that in the box. I'll take care of it.' But I never saw that picture again, nor any others. That's why they wanted to take pictures of you so much after you were born. She felt that she needed to fill the apartment full of pictures. It looked so empty without them."
"Oh…do you have them?"
"I'm sorry, but they were lost in the fire." Kyros heard the screech of a pushed back chair.
"Thank you for seeing me. I have to go."
"But don't you want to know about your father?" Maria sighed, and Kyros heard Martha pat her hand.
"You know you do. To move to the future, you have to know your past, honey. I'll fix something for us to eat. The children are sleepin' over at a friends house and those damn noisy idiots up stairs are away for vacation. If you call Boston a vacation…"
Kyros pulled back his senses and jogged back to her apartment. He heard various family fights along the way, only one out of eight were in English. A smile came to his lips when he thought of a cheesy Charlie Brown poster in his old Spanish class. It said something like "No matter what the language, everyone can understand a smile." He guessed the same went for obscenities and rude gestures.
It was pitifully easy to break in. For one thing, the lock was defected and could be simply unlocked by a credit card. And Maria forgot to lock it in the first place. He guessed what ever provincial town she came from in good old Georgia didn't have a high crime rate.
It was a two bedroom apartment, but she filled one full of unpacked boxes. Kyros searched her bedroom, gingerly replacing all moved items to their original spots. When he first arrived, he assumed she had chosen her new home due to a lack of funds. But the girl had a wide range of CD's. A DVD player lay under the unmade bed, as did speakers and a lap top. She had draped an old table cloth over a television with built in VCR. He wondered why she didn't just hawk the valuables and move to a safer neighborhood.
At her tiny desk, Kyros did not use caution with the leafs of papers, for it appeared she did not either. The four drawers were stuffed messily with hundreds of notebook papers; some short stories, poems, and diary entries ripped out in anger or sadness. Music sheets to songs he had never heard of, dating back to the 1930's. Envelopes from Georgia explained where she received the funds. In the days when Circle Daybreak had her allegiance, it was known she lived with a wealthy aunt from the Cotton Land. Some papers lipped from his hand and stooped to pick them up. His eyes began reading before he could stop them.
I am not tall.
I am not blonde.
I do not giggle inanely.
I am not built like Barbie.
My eyes do not wear blue eye shadow very well.
I do not smile for no reason.
I am not All American.
I am an individual.
Kyros found himself both smiling and scoffing. For some strange reason, he was happy she wasn't one of those girls who constantly dieted, or dyed their hair to be like everybody else. But it was far too naïve of her to be an individual simply for those reasons. After all, who isn't blonde and built like Barbie? he asked himself.
There were also extensive notes on hospital names, numbers, medical papers on a "Tybal, Gwendolyn Marks," and lists full of scratched out names.
"Gwendolyn Tybal?" Kyros scratched his head. He wondered if it was a medical problem that his head itched when ever there was an enigma at hand. "Who is she, a sister?" He had never heard of any such thing, but then again Maria was a private person.
There were no signs of the past. No Christmas cards from Poppy or Iliana, no jewelry bearing black Dahlias or any other special flowers. The boxes in the other room held clothes, an amazing amount of clothes actually. Clothes, shoes, purses, jewelry…Kyros suspected Maria had a miniature department store in the loads of boxes.
Then a nearly inaudible "damn" was heard just outside her rickety door. Kyros slapped his forehead. The fire escape was outside the living room, and, being a fox and not a cat, he couldn't jump out the window. He hoped Maria didn't feel any urge to continue unpacking for the day.
"Hello? Who's there?" There was an edge that he had never heard in her voice: fear.
"I know you're here, you left the door unlocked." Rolling his eyes, Kyros stepped from the shadowy room and into the living room.
"No, you left the door unlocked," he retorted, with her back facing him.
"OH MY GOD!" Kyros caught the bat with one hand, wincing at the sting of it. The girl has one helluva swing. She began to shriek.
"What the hell are you doing in my apartment, you sick bastard! You better…Kyros? Kyros Snow, is that you?" He jerked the bat from her grip and placed it safely on top of a book shelf.
"Yes, it's me. I…" okay, think quick… "I was stopping by to see if you wanted to go to dinner after you finished studying. But I found the door unlocked and decided to lecture you about it, but instead there was nobody here." Guilt washed over her face and Kyros mentally complimented himself for such a smooth lie. Almost as good as Blaise.
"Oh… oh, you see I was studying I didn't lie to you about that, but I, I…I needed to, um, do something that couldn't wait," she finished weakly, nervously biting her lip. Kyros began to find the mannerism endearing.
Then he felt a bit of guilt himself, for he hadn't exactly been the picture of chivalry. "It's okay, I was gonna make you pay for dinner any way." For a few awkward minutes, they stood looking at each other, their minds blank for any starters of conversation.
"Why don't we just dine here? It's cheap and the foods' okay," she suggested with a shy smile, her eyes cast down. Again, the emotion was so foreign to Maria that he stared with complete surprise.
Closing his mouth, Kyros forced a smile to his astonished face. "Of course. But how's the service?"
~*~*~*~
Thierry Mansion, Nevada
July 17, 2000
Nilsson opened the door and found Keller struggling to keep her eyes open and making her son more comfortable in her arms and Galen, who dug in a cumbersome baby bag for something. The baby let out a wail before he saw Nilsson. Then he stared at him with wide eyed curiosity, smiled, and clapped with pudgy hands.
"How did you do that?" Keller demanded, eyes popping wide open. "I have gotten two hours of sleep and you have to tell me how you did that!" Keller was very near to choking Nilsson, and Galen restrained her before she could do much damage.
Nilsson, of course, remained calm and showed them to the dining hall. Hannah stood waiting to greet them, and she took the baby with delight into her arms. Again, he let out an adorable laugh and proceeded to plant a wet and sloppy kiss to her chin.
"Oh, isn't he a charmer? Why is his bib on his arm?" she laughed. Galen, who was resting his head on the table, looked up. With exhausted pride, he noticed that his son shined with youthful exuberance. His blonde hair floated around his head like a halo, although it was static from the car seat that made it stand on end and not divinity.
"We were a little busy this morning. I wasn't paying attention when I dressed him," Galen yawned. All turned their heads to Thierry, who had just entered with a cell phone in hand. A look of satisfaction then bewilderment crossed his face as he paced back and forth along the large table. The others could only sit and crane their necks to follow his movements.
"You want to stay?" he asked with alarm. Hannah looked confused as well.
"Who is that?" Keller asked.
"Just a minute, Keller," Thierry replied, thinking the question was directed to him. He listened for a few more seconds and sighed. In his round of duck, duck, he chose Keller as goose. "Here," Thierry handed her the phone, "he wants to talk to you."
Keller raised the phone to her ear and then smiled. "Yes, hello Kyros. I'm…terribly tired, the baby's crying schedule doesn't exactly coincide with our sleeping schedule… Yes, here's right here. Of course you can." Keller gently placed the cellular phone to the baby's side, who tried to grab it and use it a chew toy.
In New York City, Kyros smiled when he heard a squeal of baby laughter. "Hello, do you know who this is? It's Kyros! Marco…"
"Polo!" Their son yelled happily. It was unusual for a baby's motor skills to develop that fast, but then again their son was not a normal baby. Panthers and jaguars' offspring were fully developed in two or three years.
Keller put the rather wet cell back to her own ear. "Aren't you proud I taught him his name?" She rolled her eyes. Ever since Kyros discovered the little trick, he had been saying the same thing for five consecutive days.
"It's not his full name. A. Poll. O. That is his name, Apollo. You taught him Polo. There is a clear difference."
"Hey, at least I didn't teach him pot ho." She gave an exaggerated sigh and turned the conversation.
"What's this I hear about you wanting to stay in New York City? The dump of all dumps?"
"Hey don't knock it till you've tried. This city is only one quarter dump, the rest is a great fondue pot of culture."
"You mean melting pot," she corrected flatly and took the cap off a bottle Apollo had been struggling with. When he discovered the tiny obstacle that prevented milk coming to his toothless mouth, Apollo threw it down in childish fury.
"No, I mean fondue pot. What can I say, I loved the seventy's cuisine. I'm staying on…personal matters."
Keller assumed it concerned his feuding relations. If there was anything in the Night World close to the Irish temper and liquor endurance, it would be the shape shifter clan of Snow. Kyros had once described the quintessential routine dinner at his branch of the Snow family: "You fight as you sit down to dinner, eat, fight while you eat, fight as you clear the table, get out the liquor and cigars, and then make up for all the fights of the past two hours." But, of course, that was only when he visited.
"Well, then I'll just work my persuasion skills to make Thierry let you stay." Keller smiled as Thierry made sharp negative gestures with his waving arms.
" 'Persuasion skills?' Keller, I want somebody to convince him, not put him in a body cast. Oh," his voice lowered, "I have to go, bye." She was left by the rude sound of the dial tone.
Thierry gave her a stern look and settled down to the lunch Nilsson set during the dual conversation with Kyros. Galen opened his mouth to question, but Apollo's catapulted spoonful of liquefied meat loaf splattered his face. The assault was so random, and completely unforeseen, that a few beats of shocked silence passed before Thierry snorted, unable to suppress it, and set off the others.
"That, as you could tell, was Kyros," Hannah said gaspingly after the laughter subsided, and Keller wiped at his face. "He was sent to the Big Apple to check Maria out, see how her memory's doing. But, strangely enough, we know she's blank but he wants to stay."
"Maybe he wants to stay a while longer with his family?" Galen suggested.
Hannah shook her head. "As much as they violently love each other, the younger Snows wouldn't spend more than three weeks visiting the parents."
"What if…" Thierry chewed over his words, spitting them out with desperate reluctance. "What if…he actually, I mean it's possible that he…Goddess, I don't even want to say it…"
Keller was irked at his rambling. "You mean, what if he likes her?" All three except Hannah seemed to shiver in revulsion.
"She's not a disease," Hannah interjected, who defended all who were absent.
"Ditheathe!" Apollo echoed loudly. In a few more weeks, Galen expected him to develop the "z" sound.
"Yes, she is," Keller contradicted. "Maria Tybal is a rapid deterioration of the ability to trust and all cheerfulness every where. Besides, despite his solemn mood for the past four or five months, Kyros can be excessively mischievous. And Maria has a nonexistent tolerance for bull shit."
"Plus she's really, really mean," Thierry sputtered out succinctly.
"Mean!" Apollo repeated, banging his hands on his chest.
"Well, maybe she's changed!" Hannah replied hotly, and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Thierry belatedly understood why she became frustrated. Circle Daybreak, after all, had its fair share of unbelievable conversion. The three sat in shamed silence.
"Changed!" Apollo's face was the only to hold a smile.
~*~*~*~
July 30, 2000
New York City, guess the state
Maria bent closer to the mirror. Yup, there it was: an irregular round shaped bluish purplish spot resided on the right side of her neck. Martha had pointed it out over coffee after they heard those "damn noisy neighbors back from damn Boston" argue about their daughter's similar blemish. Maria couldn't really give any knowledgeable comments, for she never had a hickey and Boston had less than fond memories.
She decided to remedy the problem with a sleeveless light blue turtleneck due to the lack of any cosmetic products, including foundation and concealer. Kyros was going to materialize any minute for their date. Maria was strangely blithe over that fact that she had a date. Those occasions never came in high school.
She picked up a brush and began to run it through her hair. She always did her best thinking that way. Kyros seemed to literally materialize when she least expected it. She never heard his foot steps, never heard his breath, and never felt his presence as she did with everybody else in the city. And what a charismatic presence it was!
"Boo!" Maria jumped up, nearly smacking him up side the head with the silver brush. Before she could blink, he dodged it and took it from her hand. And there was another strange thing…his reflexes were similar to a wild animal. Maria smiled while he spent ten minutes laughing his head off. Normally, she found situations such as this painfully irritating but…well being her normal self never helped her before.
Besides, he's funny, and sweet, and…doesn't ask questions. About my family, my link to Martha, or my scars, emotional or physical. Maria commanded herself to be content for once in her life.
After he had calmed down, they walked out of the building. Surprisingly, they stopped in front of a motorcycle, instead of the Lexus he had been driving for the past three weeks. "We'll be going to Rao's tonight."
"I thought that was difficult, to say the least, restaurant to get into. And even if you have reservations, the owners let their old friends take your place."
"Yeah, well I got my connections. Strap your helmet on tight, oh and I forgot to tell you to wear your hair up didn't I? Oh well, you could just fix it before we get in." Before she could respond, they zoomed down the street.
Great, I'll be going to this classic, sophisticated, and not mention celebrity packed restaurant with bugs stuck in my hair and mud splattered on my legs. Just great.
True to his word, they walked in without a questioning look from the host. Taking a booth in the corner, the two talked of pleasantries, then lapsed in to a routine silence. On every date they've had, Maria noticed that after the "Yeah, ma's doin' all right," there seemed to be no other interests. But she hoped that would change when she met his friends, and he met hers (after she made some at college, of course.)
Only when the food came was she truly grateful for the silence. To her, any food that was concocted without the help of a microwave was a masterpiece to savor slowly. It was not often that one had a chance to dine at Rao's, so she spent dinner with wide eyes, drinking in the walls lined with autographed pictures of many famous stars. One she did not care for: Mike Piazza of the New York Mets. Now if he were to ever end up on the Yankees, minus the facial hair, I'd appreciate his picture more. Then she felt guilty for focusing on such matters, when on a date with such a thoughtful man.
The night was uneventful. The moon, that once looked so romantic a few weeks ago, hung dully in the air as if saying, "Yeah, yeah so you're young and in love. Big deal!" And, for some peculiar reason, Maria felt the stars shined for some other victims of l'amour.
Kyros followed her up to her apartment without asking, as he had done the first time they met. It as an irking habit, but Maria felt it was his nature to be so presumptive and confident. This time however, the date ended at the door.
"Are you tired this evening?" Kyros had stared at her during dinner, while she took in the sights. Every once in a while, she would wince or sigh in impatience whenever she turned to him.
Maria was glad he unknowingly came up with an excuse for her. "Yes, I've been burrowing in my mountain of clothes for this top. Our last date left me with a little me memoir." Kyros peered to the spot where she pulled at her collar. She noticed his gaze looked lower than needed. Suddenly eager to see this date end, she gave him a quick peck on his lips, pulled out of his extremely addicting hug, and shut the door. Maria quickly skipped across the living room to wave good bye to him on the street. Funny how he got down there so fast. With the moonlight giving him an aura of goodness, contrasting the prankster inside, Kyros bent down on his knee like her Romeo.
"Good bye!" She called softly, for on this street, every body slept by eleven. He ruined the romantic atmosphere by pulling his ears, puffing up his cheeks, crossing his eyes, and sticking his tongue out, giving the effect of a retarded monkey. With a raucous laugh, he jumped on his 'cycle and sped off.
Despite his apparent immaturity, Maria liked him. "Like him very much actually," she told her reflection, but her voice was irresolute. "I do like him," she argued with herself and changed into night clothes. She thought the humid heat in Georgia was unbearable, but now she wasn't so sure. The pollution and concrete insulators trapped the heat in the city. All her flannel pajamas stayed in the packing boxes as she dressed every night in tanks and shorts of childhood. Mari would absolutely dread any surprise visit from Kyros after bed time; it would be impossible to make him leave in that outfit.
Still debating over her romantic feelings, she unplugged all appliances and checked the locks. After she made her usual rounds, she finally made her way to her bed room. She noticed something strange when she reached the door; it was closed when she was sure it had been left open. Maria narrowed her eyes, for this fact was firm evidence in what she had been suspecting for a month. Her apartment was haunted. The conclusion was the product of too many hours spent watching paranormal tv specials.
Taking a deep breath and giving herself a pep talk of courage, she swung open the door, flicking on the light switch. At first, there was nobody in sight. Then, in the shadows, or perhaps creating its own shadow, she saw somebody sitting in her chair. Somebody more frightening than any poltergeist could ever be. Some how, her voice found its way to her lips trembling lips.
"Valdis."
"New York is an exciting town where something is happening all the time, most of it unsolved." Johnny Carson
