Family Reunion: What A Bitch
Chapter 4
By: Killing Frost
AN: Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, however few they were. I really enjoyed reading them. And again, thanks. This time its for telling me what a Morgan's Moment is. (Sounds humorous, but if we all took a shot every time Morgan cried, we would all be alcoholics majorly by now.) Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, after months of working on it.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Sweep series, or any such devices from that. However, I do own the new characters and settings and such that I am introducing, so please, be courteous, and do not steal them. If you wish to use them for future stories, contact me at Killing_Frost@sailorsaturn.zzn.com.
WARNING: MATURE THEMES CONTAINED WITHIN! DON'T READ IT IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE IT!
Time: 2 Years Later
Place: Laramy's Kiln, Ireland
Ages:
Cait- 6
Maella- 17
Blaine- 18
Liam- 20
Rian- 32
Meriel- 33
*Maella's POV*
~The Blue Moon~ (A dance club)
Three years ago, I had come here, newly initiated, just a bird on its first flight out of the nest. Then, the magick was enough to make me fly, it was still exciting and new, full of fresh possibilities and new horizons. Now, three years later, I have other ways to fly.
After seven months of misery in Laramy's Kiln, my brother Liam had finally convinced me to come out partying with him. I still remember it like it was yesterday. I had dressed in an old spandex mini-skirt of mom's, really it was more like an elastic band that just covered my ass. It was bright teal too, oh yippie! To go with the skirt, I wore a skimpy lace top and halter underneath it. My hair had been whisked back into a messy bun, and the stilettos on my feet were excruciating.
Blaine had glanced disdainfully at me and shook his head. It wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last. I just laughed and left with my other brother as my escort. He took me to the Blue Moon, the very club which I sit at now, drinking a dry gin and tonic. I'd been disoriented and scared of all the happily miserable people there, but soon, after Liam had walked off to dance with some ditz, and a strange guy I didn't know had gotten me to try a little ecstasy, I enjoyed myself.
The drug dealer and I hit it off famously. He, who was also as high as a kite, danced with me all night, and said sweet things to me which were so tempting I couldn't resist. He became my first victim. Liam never found out, for he too had gone off with someone, leaving me alone at The Blue Moon, forgetting about me. Again, it wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last.
So sitting here at the bar wasn't exactly my goal in mind. No, tonight I had the urge to fly. Magick just simply wasn't enough anymore. It had lost its sparkle, its mystery to me. My mother had been disappointed when I'd refused to continue my studies with her. So I sat and looked pretty, danced provocatively and seductively, and played the twit, while all the time, I was looking for my airline ticket.
Finally I saw him.
Slowly I sauntered up to him, doing my best to act natural, but be noticeable. Let me tell you, that's difficult. He noticed me though, as intended, and smiled in familiarity. His--were they hazel?--eyes glittered queerly underneath the neon lights, and for a second he looked terrifying. Of course he was, I berated myself. I already knew he was scary. After all, he was my drug dealer.
I took my time getting to him, never hurrying, never rushing, letting his gaze travel down my body and knowing that in his mind, he was remembering what I looked like underneath the scant clothing I wore tonight.
"Ella," He said in greeting once I got up to him. He called me 'Ella' for that's what they knew me as here, and in all of my other haunts. Using my real name would be like asking for a stalker.
"Jorge," I replied with a sinuous smile, "How are you?"
"You know me."
"Yes, I do. So you're still a little weasel then?" I asked with a teasing smile and voice, even though in my mind, I knew I was serious.
"Ah, and you must still be a little vixen then?" He responded in kind with a smile of his own, although his was insinuating, knowing.
"I try," I said with a shrug.
"Well then, you must come have a drink with me at my table." That was the cue. He ordered a martini for himself, and a glass of Merlot for me. When we were seated down in a secluded corner all was silence, and I knew that Jorge was thinking. Always a bad sign.
"You know, have I ever told you that you remind me of wine?"
Uh-oh. Where was this going? "No, you haven't. Do I really?"
"Yes. It tastes so sweet and utterly sublime going down your throat, but once its gone, it leaves a burning aftertaste." Jorge twiddled with the stem of his martini glass, turning it about until the olive was pointing at me like a finger.
"I want payment first," He said abruptly.
"No. You know the deal, goods first, then payment." I said back at him, my voice still smooth and neutral, but I was shocked on the inside. He didn't really expect me to agree, did he?
"I'll show them to you, and you can test them, but I want payment first."
What was he up to? I know however, that I had to agree. Jorge was in one of his moods, and once he had set his mind to something, there was no talking him out of it. "Fine." And that was it. He paid the bill for our drinks. (Such a gentlemen...)
Outside in the parking lot, I was careful not to look at my car, fearful that he might see the license plate. Jorge opened the trunk to his car and lifted the floorboard, from there he pulled out a small, nondescript, paper bag. "It's all in there," He said as reassurance. Just to be sure I counted.
Ten grams of coke packaged tightly, a small bottle of the drug called EXT, and a brown vial. I opened it and smelled inside, and sure enough, it was genuine heroin. "Do you approve?" Jorge asked lightly. "Yeah," I said faintly, and even fainter, "yeah." He took the bag and stuffed it inside of his coat, slamming the trunk shut, and he unlocked the passenger door for me. Time for payment.
Jorge drove me to an anywhere-Motel, where you could come and be unknown, and leave the same way. He'd rented the Honeymoon Suite. Why, was beyond me. I suppose because it had a nicer bed and a hot tub, not that I'd be sticking around to try it out. The second we got in the door he was all over me. He must've been fighting with his girlfriend again.
Clothes flew everywhere, and shoes lay discarded on the floor. His hands, his mouth, were everywhere at once, touching, teasing, tasting. Needy. Dishwater blond hair, once spiked up, now in disarray, kept reminding me of where I was, and I used that. That, and his slender hands with nimble fingers, used to doing such things as rolling a joint, and his--they were hazel--eyes, and the broad body, not very muscled. I used him to push away the memories of another's hands on my body, another's lips on mine. I used him as he used me, and when it was over, the rush gone, the flight ended, the exultation just a sham, I wanted to cry.
Roughly I pushed him off of me, but so satisfied in himself, he was, that he didn't care. I stood up, and found his jacket--the same jacket he'd had since I'd met him three years ago--and took the items which I'd paid for with my own body. I walked into the bathroom and cleaned myself up as good and as fast as I could, then walked around collecting my clothes. Out in the main room I was aware of Jorge's eyes following me wherever I went, lingering wherever was not appropriate.
I left as soon as I was dressed, and walked all the way back to the Blue Moon. It wasn't that far. Maybe a mile and a half. Still, I was sweating by the time I got back to the parking lot and my feet ached from walking all that way in four inch heels. I was used to it, and I enjoyed the sweet pangs of my body which signalled that I was still alive.
My cheap little Toyota was waiting for me faithfully, and I sighed with relief when I sat down on its cushy seat. From the small paper bag I withdrew the package of coke, and made a little hole in its corner. Spilling it out onto a pad of paper I had in my car, I snorted it gratefully, relieved to finally get the fix I'd been desiring all day. I stuck a small bit of sellotape over the hole, and put it back in the bag, which I then placed with reverence underneath the passenger seat.
With my brain feeling super-charged, and clear-headed, I finally began to feel ready to go home, and did so slowly, taking my time getting there. By the time I pulled into the driveway it was 2:17 in the morning, and I was extra-quiet going upstairs, but when I shut the door to my room and turned on the light, boy, was I surprised.
"Ah!" I screeched involuntarily. Stomping up to my bed, I snatched that damn necklace from where it lay and tried crushing it in my hand. However, I am not one who can bend metal with their bare hands. When I opened my palm again, I glared at the cursed little heart, while it shone its golden surface at me mockingly. "How did you get out in the open again? I thought I hid you..." I murmured, "Oh well, this time, it'll be for good."
I walked over to my closet and dug inside, tossing out shoes, clothes, and other miscellaneous junk as I searched for it. Finally I found the loose floorboard, and pried it up, breaking a nail in the process. Locking that evil necklace away, I murmured a spell of concealment over it, then wiped my hand on my pants like I'd touched something slimy. Truth was, I could still feel it. Feel the vibrations of love and warmth and happiness that Bran had instilled in the locket before he gave it to me.
I knew that if I wanted to truly be rid of it I should just melt it or something. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Maybe I didn't want to. Curses. Curse that damn locket, curse him, curse Kier!
Burying my head underneath a pile of clothes, I screamed, harshly. It said more adequately than words what I was feeling. There went my perfect ending to a perfect day. I stumbled into bed for a few hours of broken, restless sleep before starting another day with no end. Hopefully this one would turn out perfectly.
*Meriel's POV*
I knew the instant that Maella got back. The vibrations in the house changed from sleepy and contented to alive, vibrant, and upset. I shook my head and wished again that I had the will to be more forceful with the girl. I didn't though, and Maella completely disregarded any authority that Rian might have over her.
I traced the face of my dear, sweet sister on the old, worn photograph. I hoped that in death she had gotten the peace she truly deserved. Such a hard life for someone so young...Not that mine had been easy, mind you. It was just, there were different flavors of hard, different levels of difficulty I guess. Sort of like a video game.
Maeve had deserved so much better than the world had given her. Finally, after years of searching, investigating, and questioning, did I finally have the full story. After I left the dark wave came to Belwicket, leaving it a barren wasteland. Maeve and Angus had somehow escaped and gone to New York, where they worked hard for their house in the country. Giving up magick, they led a simple life, until Ciaran came and took that from them.
I also learned of Maeve's daughter, whom she had named Morgan. The adoption agency had been kind enough to provide me with the name of the family that had adopted her. Rowlands. I was working on finding out if the Rowlandses still lived near New York, and contacting the last member of my family. After all, family is a very important part of life.
AN: Next time, hopefully we'll get into Morgan's POV, and more Maella, The Messed Up Child. Don't forget to review! ^_^
Chapter 4
By: Killing Frost
AN: Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, however few they were. I really enjoyed reading them. And again, thanks. This time its for telling me what a Morgan's Moment is. (Sounds humorous, but if we all took a shot every time Morgan cried, we would all be alcoholics majorly by now.) Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, after months of working on it.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Sweep series, or any such devices from that. However, I do own the new characters and settings and such that I am introducing, so please, be courteous, and do not steal them. If you wish to use them for future stories, contact me at Killing_Frost@sailorsaturn.zzn.com.
WARNING: MATURE THEMES CONTAINED WITHIN! DON'T READ IT IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE IT!
Time: 2 Years Later
Place: Laramy's Kiln, Ireland
Ages:
Cait- 6
Maella- 17
Blaine- 18
Liam- 20
Rian- 32
Meriel- 33
*Maella's POV*
~The Blue Moon~ (A dance club)
Three years ago, I had come here, newly initiated, just a bird on its first flight out of the nest. Then, the magick was enough to make me fly, it was still exciting and new, full of fresh possibilities and new horizons. Now, three years later, I have other ways to fly.
After seven months of misery in Laramy's Kiln, my brother Liam had finally convinced me to come out partying with him. I still remember it like it was yesterday. I had dressed in an old spandex mini-skirt of mom's, really it was more like an elastic band that just covered my ass. It was bright teal too, oh yippie! To go with the skirt, I wore a skimpy lace top and halter underneath it. My hair had been whisked back into a messy bun, and the stilettos on my feet were excruciating.
Blaine had glanced disdainfully at me and shook his head. It wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last. I just laughed and left with my other brother as my escort. He took me to the Blue Moon, the very club which I sit at now, drinking a dry gin and tonic. I'd been disoriented and scared of all the happily miserable people there, but soon, after Liam had walked off to dance with some ditz, and a strange guy I didn't know had gotten me to try a little ecstasy, I enjoyed myself.
The drug dealer and I hit it off famously. He, who was also as high as a kite, danced with me all night, and said sweet things to me which were so tempting I couldn't resist. He became my first victim. Liam never found out, for he too had gone off with someone, leaving me alone at The Blue Moon, forgetting about me. Again, it wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last.
So sitting here at the bar wasn't exactly my goal in mind. No, tonight I had the urge to fly. Magick just simply wasn't enough anymore. It had lost its sparkle, its mystery to me. My mother had been disappointed when I'd refused to continue my studies with her. So I sat and looked pretty, danced provocatively and seductively, and played the twit, while all the time, I was looking for my airline ticket.
Finally I saw him.
Slowly I sauntered up to him, doing my best to act natural, but be noticeable. Let me tell you, that's difficult. He noticed me though, as intended, and smiled in familiarity. His--were they hazel?--eyes glittered queerly underneath the neon lights, and for a second he looked terrifying. Of course he was, I berated myself. I already knew he was scary. After all, he was my drug dealer.
I took my time getting to him, never hurrying, never rushing, letting his gaze travel down my body and knowing that in his mind, he was remembering what I looked like underneath the scant clothing I wore tonight.
"Ella," He said in greeting once I got up to him. He called me 'Ella' for that's what they knew me as here, and in all of my other haunts. Using my real name would be like asking for a stalker.
"Jorge," I replied with a sinuous smile, "How are you?"
"You know me."
"Yes, I do. So you're still a little weasel then?" I asked with a teasing smile and voice, even though in my mind, I knew I was serious.
"Ah, and you must still be a little vixen then?" He responded in kind with a smile of his own, although his was insinuating, knowing.
"I try," I said with a shrug.
"Well then, you must come have a drink with me at my table." That was the cue. He ordered a martini for himself, and a glass of Merlot for me. When we were seated down in a secluded corner all was silence, and I knew that Jorge was thinking. Always a bad sign.
"You know, have I ever told you that you remind me of wine?"
Uh-oh. Where was this going? "No, you haven't. Do I really?"
"Yes. It tastes so sweet and utterly sublime going down your throat, but once its gone, it leaves a burning aftertaste." Jorge twiddled with the stem of his martini glass, turning it about until the olive was pointing at me like a finger.
"I want payment first," He said abruptly.
"No. You know the deal, goods first, then payment." I said back at him, my voice still smooth and neutral, but I was shocked on the inside. He didn't really expect me to agree, did he?
"I'll show them to you, and you can test them, but I want payment first."
What was he up to? I know however, that I had to agree. Jorge was in one of his moods, and once he had set his mind to something, there was no talking him out of it. "Fine." And that was it. He paid the bill for our drinks. (Such a gentlemen...)
Outside in the parking lot, I was careful not to look at my car, fearful that he might see the license plate. Jorge opened the trunk to his car and lifted the floorboard, from there he pulled out a small, nondescript, paper bag. "It's all in there," He said as reassurance. Just to be sure I counted.
Ten grams of coke packaged tightly, a small bottle of the drug called EXT, and a brown vial. I opened it and smelled inside, and sure enough, it was genuine heroin. "Do you approve?" Jorge asked lightly. "Yeah," I said faintly, and even fainter, "yeah." He took the bag and stuffed it inside of his coat, slamming the trunk shut, and he unlocked the passenger door for me. Time for payment.
Jorge drove me to an anywhere-Motel, where you could come and be unknown, and leave the same way. He'd rented the Honeymoon Suite. Why, was beyond me. I suppose because it had a nicer bed and a hot tub, not that I'd be sticking around to try it out. The second we got in the door he was all over me. He must've been fighting with his girlfriend again.
Clothes flew everywhere, and shoes lay discarded on the floor. His hands, his mouth, were everywhere at once, touching, teasing, tasting. Needy. Dishwater blond hair, once spiked up, now in disarray, kept reminding me of where I was, and I used that. That, and his slender hands with nimble fingers, used to doing such things as rolling a joint, and his--they were hazel--eyes, and the broad body, not very muscled. I used him to push away the memories of another's hands on my body, another's lips on mine. I used him as he used me, and when it was over, the rush gone, the flight ended, the exultation just a sham, I wanted to cry.
Roughly I pushed him off of me, but so satisfied in himself, he was, that he didn't care. I stood up, and found his jacket--the same jacket he'd had since I'd met him three years ago--and took the items which I'd paid for with my own body. I walked into the bathroom and cleaned myself up as good and as fast as I could, then walked around collecting my clothes. Out in the main room I was aware of Jorge's eyes following me wherever I went, lingering wherever was not appropriate.
I left as soon as I was dressed, and walked all the way back to the Blue Moon. It wasn't that far. Maybe a mile and a half. Still, I was sweating by the time I got back to the parking lot and my feet ached from walking all that way in four inch heels. I was used to it, and I enjoyed the sweet pangs of my body which signalled that I was still alive.
My cheap little Toyota was waiting for me faithfully, and I sighed with relief when I sat down on its cushy seat. From the small paper bag I withdrew the package of coke, and made a little hole in its corner. Spilling it out onto a pad of paper I had in my car, I snorted it gratefully, relieved to finally get the fix I'd been desiring all day. I stuck a small bit of sellotape over the hole, and put it back in the bag, which I then placed with reverence underneath the passenger seat.
With my brain feeling super-charged, and clear-headed, I finally began to feel ready to go home, and did so slowly, taking my time getting there. By the time I pulled into the driveway it was 2:17 in the morning, and I was extra-quiet going upstairs, but when I shut the door to my room and turned on the light, boy, was I surprised.
"Ah!" I screeched involuntarily. Stomping up to my bed, I snatched that damn necklace from where it lay and tried crushing it in my hand. However, I am not one who can bend metal with their bare hands. When I opened my palm again, I glared at the cursed little heart, while it shone its golden surface at me mockingly. "How did you get out in the open again? I thought I hid you..." I murmured, "Oh well, this time, it'll be for good."
I walked over to my closet and dug inside, tossing out shoes, clothes, and other miscellaneous junk as I searched for it. Finally I found the loose floorboard, and pried it up, breaking a nail in the process. Locking that evil necklace away, I murmured a spell of concealment over it, then wiped my hand on my pants like I'd touched something slimy. Truth was, I could still feel it. Feel the vibrations of love and warmth and happiness that Bran had instilled in the locket before he gave it to me.
I knew that if I wanted to truly be rid of it I should just melt it or something. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Maybe I didn't want to. Curses. Curse that damn locket, curse him, curse Kier!
Burying my head underneath a pile of clothes, I screamed, harshly. It said more adequately than words what I was feeling. There went my perfect ending to a perfect day. I stumbled into bed for a few hours of broken, restless sleep before starting another day with no end. Hopefully this one would turn out perfectly.
*Meriel's POV*
I knew the instant that Maella got back. The vibrations in the house changed from sleepy and contented to alive, vibrant, and upset. I shook my head and wished again that I had the will to be more forceful with the girl. I didn't though, and Maella completely disregarded any authority that Rian might have over her.
I traced the face of my dear, sweet sister on the old, worn photograph. I hoped that in death she had gotten the peace she truly deserved. Such a hard life for someone so young...Not that mine had been easy, mind you. It was just, there were different flavors of hard, different levels of difficulty I guess. Sort of like a video game.
Maeve had deserved so much better than the world had given her. Finally, after years of searching, investigating, and questioning, did I finally have the full story. After I left the dark wave came to Belwicket, leaving it a barren wasteland. Maeve and Angus had somehow escaped and gone to New York, where they worked hard for their house in the country. Giving up magick, they led a simple life, until Ciaran came and took that from them.
I also learned of Maeve's daughter, whom she had named Morgan. The adoption agency had been kind enough to provide me with the name of the family that had adopted her. Rowlands. I was working on finding out if the Rowlandses still lived near New York, and contacting the last member of my family. After all, family is a very important part of life.
AN: Next time, hopefully we'll get into Morgan's POV, and more Maella, The Messed Up Child. Don't forget to review! ^_^
