If desiring the story, you may want to skip the intro, because I have a habit of straying from original topic…
Hello! Very, very, extremely, very special thanks to Martha, Lil'ol'me (or should I put lil'ol'you?) Marie, Littlemissgiggles, and Maudlinrose. (Ha! Look at all the M's!) You've all made my day (or, days). About soul mates…can't tell ya. That would make me a kill joy, and nobody wants to be a kill joy. Now I'm not sure if Marie meant to put that many reviews, but deliberate or not they made me smile—all of them. Oh, and I'm extremely, extremely flattered that Littlemissgiggles and Maudlinrose think this is that great, but really, we all know it isn't the best. Not with the Kiana Caelum's and Aife Bisclaveret's out there. But I try my damnedest and I'm glad y'all appreciate it. Maudlinrose is right, of course, about marginally confusing plot because well it's supposed to be that way. But it really didn't fit into my "please send constructive criticism" request…maybe I'm a glutton for punishment… Doh! See? I told you I digressed.
P.S. Relatively important things are mentioned in this chapter…for the plot later on, I mean. Also (My books are gone, no reference) what's Winnie's last name? Anybody? Anybody?
Vague Verity
Chapter 2
"Wickedness is a myth invented by good people to account for
~*~*~*~
Rik held Fayth's wrist, and led her through the celebrating teenagers. It was one o'clock now, and Scott Buffington had abandoned his post at the door. Already, strangers had arrived, bringing with them even more havoc. It did not matter whether Rik and Fayth stayed or not. They had already negotiated with several neutrals to take their place as pest control of Ian and his friends. So far, no Night World citizens made an appearance at the residence wreaking with illegal activities.
"There are so many things wrong with this picture," she heard Rik say. She had been so busy studying a boy dangling from a window that she hadn't taken in the same scene her admirer had.
The unavoidable inhalation of drugs from the mansion didn't help much when she stared in the direction Rik indicated. Her vision blurred a bit before refocusing.
"What?"
"Look," he said, timbre full of incredulity of the situation. They were a few feet away from the street now; Fayth gazed at the hood of his car.
There sat Rita Glisscielle, chocolate curls shining in the street light and long legs crossed. She wore a baggy white shirt over Winnie's dress, the sleeves reaching her elbows. That did not surprise them. It was Jared resting his head in her lap that almost made the vampire rub his eyes.
The werewolf had his usual condition: sleeping. He only wore faded blue jeans, and his feet were bare as they hung loosely over the edge of the Yota. Upon closer inspection, Fayth could see bruises around his neck and chest. Blood stained both their hands, and some maroon spots were visible on Jared's pants. The couple stood in quiet disbelief as they observed the oblivious pair on the car.
Rita looked up, her hands never quitting the task of stroking Jared's short, brown cow licks. "Hello. Can you drive me home?"
Just like that, Fayth thought dazedly. Perhaps it was the possibly spiked punch or the contagious tranquillity of the bookworm and werewolf, but somehow she couldn't quite register the present happenings.
Jared broke free from his slumber but refused to leave the place of comfort. He made the enormous effort to look in his friend's general direction though. "Yeah, Rik. We're both kinda beat."
"Kinda beat? That's all you say? Kinda beat? Jared, get up." When the werewolf didn't budge, Rik dragged him off the car by force. "Now," he said, as Jared leaned on the hood, "explain."
Jared seemed confused and scratched his head dumbly. Something Fayth had seen often, on documentaries of monkeys, that is. He turned to Rita, who only smiled with gentle encouragement.
"Explain what?" He asked when he turned to Rik again.
"Explain what?! Explain why you two are suddenly getting along. Explain why you both have blood on your hands. Explain why you look like a Back Street Boy who just landed in Korn concert. Explain why she's wearing your shirt and why you both were just sitting out here, freezing your asses off. Explain why you left the party when Rashel, Quinn, and Fayth told both of you to stay. Explain—"
Jared held up his hands as if to physically stop the attack of questions. "All right, all right. Just, take a breather dude. You're scaring me."
"I'm scaring you! I find both of you looking like you finished bonding moment of sacrificing chickens in Scott Buffington's back yard and I'm scaring you?"
"Yelling doesn't help anybody," Rita murmured, innocently staring at the velvet sky. Rik thought he saw Jared smile at the comment, but dismissed it as his imagination. Jared always hated at those peace promoting kind of words.
"All right, I'll try to explain in order of your Q's. Let's see…would you believe Rita and I did sacrifice chickens in the back yard? Jesus, calm down it was just a joke. Any way, we're getting along because I saved her life. And she sorta prolonged Amaro from ending mine."
"I'm bound to be nice to anybody who saved my life," Rita added matter-of-factly. Jared grinned.
"Yeah, and anybody who's seen me naked I'm bound to get closer to." Rita gave an indignant hmph, and turned away. "Second, we got blood on our hands because Rita tried to help Adam with his little medical problem while I looked for and found his ear. You remember Adam, blew up the Chem lab last year?" Rik looked impassive. "Okay, may be you don't remember. A few minutes ago, I just got my ass kicked by that Amaro prick. In my opinion, he's a goddamn son of a bitch and God, what I wouldn't give to kick his fu—"
Rita cleared her throat. Jared sighed and continued. "Moving on, a bunch of crazy ass people came outside in this freezing temperature and suddenly the guy disappeared. And I'm guessin' Buffy here," (and Fayth glared at that) "wouldn't approve of us sharing our experience with the curious dumb asses, so we split. She's wearing my shirt because, like you said and I said, it's freezing out here and I don't think I'm very susceptible to hypothermia. And we're sitting here because," at this point he appeared sheepish. "I lost my car keys while I was out hunting with Adam and Cornelia. My bad."
"Why did you leave the party?" Rik asked, annoyed, as he took out his own keys to open the doors. Rita slid off the hood and rushed into the back passenger seat. Jared settled beside her as Rik and Fayth took the seats in the front.
"You told me to leave the party," Rita reminded Rik as she fastened her seat belt. Like a responsible grandmother, she shook her head at Jared and coerced him to buckle his own seat belt. "You said that I upset him and that I should talk to him. This whole mess all your fault."
"And why is that?" Fayth twisted in her seat to scrutinize the girl as Rik began their trek home.
"If I never went out, Adrian would have never bothered me, and Jared and his friends would have never gotten beaten up. But losing the key, I admit, is completely Jared's fault."
"Thanks a lot." Rita smiled at the disgruntled werewolf beside her. As if they shared years of friendship, Rita rested her head on his shoulder, carefully avoiding a large black and violet bruise. Fayth's mouth dropped open when Jared draped an arm over Glisscielle's shoulder, pulling her closer. She had known Jared for nearly half a year and the werewolf always bit her head off if she ever touched his couch. And yet the boy practically hugged a girl he had known for a few days.
"Are you two…I don't know, together?"
"No, we're not together," Rita retorted. "Why were you and Rik holding hands when you found us?" she challenged. "Perhaps some other people are now together," she insinuated. "What do you think, Jared?"
"I dunno, Rita, Rik's been crushing on Fayth for a while now and I didn't think she'd return those feelings…"
"Shut up both of you," Fayth snapped moodily and turned around. Jared made faces at the back of her head, causing Rita to giggle louder.
"Why did you call Amaro Adrian?" Rik asked Rita softly, slicing smoothly through the heavy silence. He heard the girl sigh.
"Because, Quinn and Winnie were right," she grudgingly admitted. "I am presently the reincarnated form of Gitana Amaro. An old soul or whatever you nut cases call it. The man's full name is Adrian."
Rita remembered the timid soul that possessed her. It felt like centuries ago. Secretly, she hoped that if spineless woman lurked somewhere inside her, that part would die very soon.
Jared shrugged. "I guess you could have her soul re edited. It's happened before." He paused and looked down at the girl with a smile. "So Amaro's the one who…used your sweater." Rita lightly punched his bare stomach. Her knuckles ached slightly at the hard contact. It was the first time she did not enjoy wash board abs on a handsome boy.
"You make it sound so vulgar. Let me explain. You see, every girl is a sweater-"
"And every guy is a shirt," he cut in, laughing. His dark brown eyes moved lower than her face. "You're trying mine on. What does that mean?"
"I have a strong suspicion that you were a used shirt long before you met me," she stated in her best prudish voice. But Rita couldn't help grinning at his mischievous expression. "I'm beginning to believe you're a bad influence."
"You're just now gettin' to that?"
"You're incorrigible."
"And proud of it," Jared retorted, stretching languorously.
"I bet you don't even know what that means."
" 'I bet?' Isn't gambling a sin in your book, Miss Manners?"
"It's an expression, you know very well what I meant."
"Fine," he surrendered under her stubbornly sanctimonious stare. "I'm incorrigible…I bet tonight's Cristal was the first alcoholic, non medicinal, drink you've ever taken in your life."
"Cristal? Damn, we didn't have any up stairs," Rik said. "Not that I'd drink on the mission," he added, seeing Fayth disapproved.
"Aw, you just pretend to be a good girl," Jared teased. "Under that nun's habit, you wear kinky underwear, don't you? Now we know who holds Victoria's secret, and it's not Winnie."
"Don't talk about under wear," Rita protested heatedly. "You're not supposed to discuss under garments with the opposite sex!" Her cheeks colored. Rita felt absolutely scandalized.
"No, you just try to catch glimpses of mine. She's been peekin' down my pants , hasn't she, Rik?"
"Whatever you say," Rik complied with an easy grin. Fayth smiled, especially when she saw Rita slap a large nasty bruise in the center of Jared's chest. Jared growled and covered the vulnerable area with crossed arms.
"You're horrible. I loathe you."
"It's just laundry!" Jared cried, attempting a mask of innocence. Rita did not believe him for one instant.
"Dirty laundry," she corrected heatedly. Jared wiggled his eye brows at her.
"Yeah, I know you like it dirty, Rita…" Jared said in a husky tone, barely containing his laughter. Rita kicked his shin.
"That is enough!" She declared, sounding like a kindergarten teacher in the midst of childish havoc. "If you say so much as a peep that suggests…procreation, you are walking home. Do you understand me?"
"This is my Yota! You just can't stop the car and kick a man out of his Yota!"
"Especially if you're not driving it," Rik added, helping his friend.
"Who said anything about stopping the car? I'm not totally repulsed by the idea of you being pushed out," Rita said coolly. But Jared refused to accept her regained composure and continued giving her an alarming variety of innuendoes until they reached the boarding house.
"A whole soap factory could not clean the filth out of your mouth," Rita sighed as they trudged up the stair well.
"Oh shut up Rita," Jared returned lazily as they entered the home and he laid on the couch. "You know I turn you on."
"You act just like Kyros," she changed the subject quickly, hoping to cool the warmth on her cheeks. She chose to sit in a recliner farthest away from him. "Always saying things just to bother me."
"Maybe," he admitted. "But I'm sexier."
"In the 'failed-twelfth-grade-three-times- intimate-with-the-leather-couch-I-know-six-ways-to-wear-underwear-before-washing-it' kind of sexy," Fayth laughed, and forced Rita to share the recliner with her. She guessed the girl didn't want to share a seat with Rik, who just occupied the other recliner.
"Goodness, I'm tired," Rita stretched, eye lids drooping. "I don't think I've ever been so tired in my entire life."
"Come here then," she heard her former adversary offer. Even with closed eyes, Rita knew he was grinning like a bobcat. "And I'll wake you up, caffeine free."
"I'm not sure whether I prefer the menopausal Jared or the horny as heck Jared. Both are extremely unappealing."
"Claimed the kinky nun," Rik muttered. Jared burst in childish, immature laughter; Rik joined him. The girls rolled their eyes and ignored them.
"Where will I sleep tonight?" Rita asked Fayth, blocking the eclats de rire from her ears.
"Let's see. Quinn and Rashel are in the guest room. Winnie stays with me. Rik and Jared share a room and Kyros is in the living room…"
"No," Jared cut her off. "I refuse to have my passionate prude in the same room as that shifter. One of them might get raped. And I've heard violated foxes are cranky."
Rita yawned, and rose from the recliner. "Seriously, Fayth, I just need some place to sleep. As in right now."
"We all need to sleep," Rik added, calming down a bit as he rose from his seat. "You could sleep here Rita, it folds down to make a bed, just really skinny."
"I'm sure Anorexia Amaro could fit," Jared commented with a calculating look at both Rita and her bed. "Well, maybe not her ass." She glared at him while Rik and Fayth tidied up before leaving the room.
"I eat fine, thank you," she returned, and plopped into the recently vacated seat, reminding Jared of himself. "And you're just saying that so I'd stay out of your couch."
"That's right, it's my couch. Stay off of it."
"And what if I don't?" She challenged. Without warning, darkness fell over them and she could hear Fayth's voice.
"Enough, it's bed time. Sweet dreams."
~*~*~*~
Jared left shortly after her breathing appeared light and even and under her eyelids, her eyes seemed to move as if in a dream. When she heard the door click shut, she glided silently to the window. The clouds finally revealed the near full moon. Rita stared at the hanging glowing pearl, as if the distant rock could lull her to sleep.
Perhaps it was the golden stranger's sudden appearance. Or Quinn's tiny fracture in the wall. Then again her nearly compulsive need to analyze everything could have done it. But, no matter what reason, the memories flooded her mind at a drowning intensity. And there was no way to stop it, asleep or awake. Inside the building was no place to ease the recollections.
She stood on the landing, ready to tread down the steps and walk aimlessly. Then she remembered the golden haired stranger, who seemed ready ridicule or torture her in the same hour. With that in mind, it seemed safer to continue up the winding stair well, but not before she took Jared's coat from the closet.
The frigid air immediately gripped her body as Rita stepped onto the flat roof top. Stopping for a moment, Rita inhaled the frozen air deeply, savoring the slight shock of the cold. She set a wooden door stopper to ensure she would not spend the night on the elevated tundra. A lonely clothes line told her the place was not totally abandoned by its tenants. But only a lunatic would visit the roof, where Jack Frost had already visited. Patches of ice made her walk to the edge somewhat difficult, but the view was worth it. Certainly, it was no big city sky line. But with the colorful Christmas lights and garland wrapped around every city pole, Rita was satisfied with Anomina's quaint and provincial night life.
"I've always liked small towns." Nobody would hear her, for she said it in the tiniest of voices. She had learned, early on, that if one must speak negatively or unnecessarily, it was better to do it quietly. Gitana Amaro had been the same. Rita closed her eyes in an attempt to block the other woman's life. She only succeeded in amplifying them.
~*~*~*~
Prior Past
Gitana Benevita didn't care what the dance represented or symbolized. The only thought in her head was to keep the steps lightning quick and loud, so loud the staccato bits of thunder would echo throughout the massive hall. The guitarra strummed lazily to the rhythm she energetically provided, but nobody paid it any attention. As she raised her hands with the beat over her head, she felt a black tendril of hair wisp her warm face. Inwardly, she winced at her now shabby appearance. But Gitana could not assess her audience's reaction.
Her feet seemed to tap lightly on the hard wooden floors, the sound that they caused said other wise. It was an art, more magnificent than any painter could produce. She ensured her body kept its fluid agility while under her long white dress her iron soled shoes bit vociferously at the floor. Her kind of entertainment would have been accepted with propriety had not her visible ankles held her back. But there was simply no way, well, no comfortable way to dance while tripping over her own garments.
Dancing was the only way to indulge without committing a sin. At least, that was how Gitana thought of it. Just looking at someone the wrong way almost earned her the burning stake. People were so sensitive these days.
Gitana knew that if one truly loved dance with heart and soul, it was not simply a mixture of foot steps and planned arm movements. It was visual music. It was how the deaf could hear the melody, and feel the beat. Footsteps were not planned positions; each step held all her life and energy. And fortunately for her health, people actually paid to see her enjoy herself. Silly donkeys.
The torpid strums suddenly turned insistent, and Tana effortlessly hastened the rhythm. She shouldn't have trusted that volunteer of a guitar player, even if he looked dangerously handsome. But he was a friend of the host, and could not be refused. Fine. She could improvise.
Faster her feet flew. Music heightened with suspenseful notes, and Gitana swayed as if any more steps would kill her. Her hands clapped above her head, emphasizing her steps' booms. With feet that thundered triumphantly and languid movements that whispered sadly, Gitana stopped. As always, the guitarra finished a few seconds after she had stilled. Gitana had won the race.
She bowed low before the congested banquet and was then dismissed. Meekly, she made her way to the kitchen, where a free meal and warm fire awaited her.
Knowing some of the servants and cooks did not have the taste for her sort of dancing, she kept her eyes on her bread and sardines. Vaguely, she wondered how a town surrounded by the dry and sandy Meseta could obtain the fish. The Guadalquivir River surely didn't run so far north. But, one must not wonder where the food came from; all that mattered was when it would come again.
The general work of the kitchen was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Or, more fittingly, heard. Nothing was said save the necessary orders. Gitana Benevita had eaten hundreds of dinners in hundreds of castles, manors, and wealthy homes. All of which had kitchen servants overflowing with gossip, verbal abuse, and irritating chatter. Now, in the uncomfortable silence, she realized that she preferred deafening clamor of the help to the tense quietness she sat in now. Gitana guessed it was just another quirk of Morta Vitez.
Having eaten the last morsel, Gitana rose from the table and left the kitchen via butcher's door. No permission to leave was needed. Strangely enough, the ancient village, as small as it looked, had more than its share of aristocrats. And these were not the earnest, austere noble men she had performed before with no hope of a smile. In fact, the wealthy of Morta Vitez had the mien of recklessness and, as much as she hated to think so, indulgence that would make el Diablo blush. The eyes that followed her every movement when she walked to the center of the dance floor seemed…hungry. She certainly wasn't about to inform the host, whoever he was, that the entertainment was running away.
It was a chilly night. Gitana wrapped her arms around herself instinctively. The moon beams illuminated the village just as the sun rays did during the day light. No drunkards, beggars, or prostitutes loitered about the narrow walk ways. Gitana observed that even with blinding moon light, darkness shrouded everything. She remembered that during the sun's shift, she had to shield her eyes from the bright orange sand and white buildings. Strange how a few hours dramatically changed the village.
It took her twenty minutes to realize she had completed a full square. Back where she started, in front of the small castle. Sighing, she walked along the shining gate, concentrating on where the nearest merchant would live. Not one was at the dinner banquet. A pity. It would have made a merchant much more willing to take her on his next journey if he'd seen her performance. Never in her life had Gitana ever led a man to believe private…performances for a mode of transportation. But if they misconstrued her demure eyes and shy smile in a perverse manner, that was their fault.
She turned at the corner and continued her ambling. The nobleman must be extremely wealthy, to tend a garden outside his property. The townspeople could literally have one foot in the desert and another in the jungle. Gitana leaned against the towering gates, pondering where, and how soon she could find that lucky trader. Staying in a town had no positive results; eventually people would find her performances hackneyed. And that meant no payment and no free meals. A marble statue stared at her and she stared back. Looking as if each felt the other didn't belong on the property.
"You shouldn't have worn white."
Gitana started and whirled to the comment. It came somewhere from the wild garden. The speaker was male, and, as most males were, arrogant. Accented, yet…without particular shape. As if this stranger was a man with no nation, his own sovereignty.
"And why not?" she asked with child like curiosity. Gitana stepped closer towards the second Eden, trying to discern the stranger's location.
"What are you looking for?" The whisper sent pleasant tingles from the ear to her tickled toes. Unable to speak coherently, Gitana yelped and jumped back from the nobleman. His eyes laughed, their twinkle confirming Gitana's assumption of arrogance.
"I thought you were in there," she answered simply. "How did you do that with your voice?"
He studied her silently. Not like most men, with their unabashed attraction. No, this man looked at her like a business man studied a potential new purchase. His expression questioned her worth.
Then he reacted to her innocent question. With a slow, quizzical smile.
"I did nothing. White was not the color for that dance. Red, would be most fitting."
It was true; a gypsy's seduction, her mother oft called the little number. But for this aloof young man to notice, let alone one of the gentry...She dismissed his strange behavior for the usual behavior of nobleman. She always knew money and power had bizarre effects on people. Which explained why she was so normal.
"I like white. Red is too…daring."
"But the dance was not pure enough for white. I suspect you are though." Gitana took even more steps back. It was forbidden, in her rules of etiquette, to discuss one's virtue, unless with the clergy. Only the difference in their classes stopped her insulting words.
"Good night sir," she said shortly and bowed, as low as it was insolent. The smile on her lips conveyed every sort of contemptuous thought she had for him. Then she turned on her heel and marched away. She wished it was the man she ground her foot into, and not fallen leaves.
"I did not dismiss you, girl."
Now that was a tone she knew was his right. The snobby, cold, and spiteful tone universally used with any lower class. By having more money, and by being born to a certain family, this man had every right to talk down to her. But that didn't mean she liked it.
"Forgive me sir." Her voice suggested everything but repentance.
"No." Just like that. He gave the refusal without hesitation. "I don't believe I will."
"Then you should know that I didn't mean it." Oh dear, she silently lamented. Now I've done it. If I survive the punishment he gives me, I fully intend to sew my mouth shut. A novel idea. The Silent Dancing Gypsy.
"That's what you're supposed to do. When I'm offended, I'm supposed to do this."
Gitana felt a hand wrap around her neck and her feet scraped the ground as the man threw her against the fence. Gitana thought she saw stars as her the hard metal pounded the back of her head. She tried to scratch at his hands, but it had the same effect as scratching a rock.
And the man smiled.
~*~*~*~
"I thought you would be sleeping by now." Rita was not alarmed by Kyros' voice. She had seen the three Daybreakers enter the house.
"Couldn't sleep," she shrugged. "How was the party? Any anomalies?" The boy took a seat beside her. Rita was thankful he did not scold her for sitting quietly on the edge of a five story house as if it was a park bench.
"Not one fu…freaking accident in the entire drunken student body. Amazing." Rita smiled but did not look towards him. Her eyes, now a light green, stayed on the moon as if hypnotized.
"Never underestimate Anomina's high school students, Kyros, especially this class. They once completely halted a school assembly by singing 'Why can't we be friends?'" In her peripheral vision, she saw Kyros turn to her with a question in his eyes.
"A martial arts instructor came to speak of self control and standing up for yourself," she explained with a smile. "What is Adrian Amaro?"
Her sudden question surprised him. "Adrian? Hmm, I never knew Ian was short for any thing. I don't really know the guy, Rita. But, according to Rik, he's a shifter."
"But…I know I'm not completely familiar with this Night World and such-"
"Amaro is only partially with the Night World. The money part. Other wise, he's a part of the Do whatever the hell I want Circle. Very exclusive. I tried to get in, but, unfortunately, I had this damn conscience that kept on nagging me every time I try to be a heartless bastard…."
"All of which is very interesting, but not what I was going to ask. I was going to mention that it seemed like he could sense me. And you said that shifters couldn't read minds."
Kyros shrugged. "Why are you doing that?"
"Lots of people get nervous sitting at the edge of a roof," she answered truthfully. It wasn't the reason why she fidgeted, but it was not a lie. Rita thought of dozens of people who would hate chatting on a rooftop.
"Yeah, but it was your idea to sit here any way. Listen, I'm gonna head inside. You comin'?" Rita shook her head.
"I told you, I can't sleep. I think I'm just worried bout my sister. We've never been separated for so long before."
Kyros smiled, thinking that a day or two was not that long. But it was an admirable devotion. "All right. Now, give me a good night kiss or I'll push you off."
Rita laughed as Kyros leaned towards her, with childish expectancy. He even puckered his lips and closed his eyes. He then frowned when he felt a butterfly kiss on his forehead.
"There, there, don't frown. Do you want me to tuck you in too?" Kyros' eyebrows rose in hope, and she giggled. Right, like that was going to happen. "Well, too bad. All you get is that unsatisfactory kiss." The fox shifter rose and Rita heard him moving to the door. He must be tired, she thought distractedly, to allow his footsteps to be heard.
"Rita?" She guessed he was at the door by now.
She didn't know that he drew closer, eyes narrowing. In the slithering rays of silver and darkness, he studied her hard. A smile illuminated his face when he recognized it. Her profile, if squinted at correctly, looked almost like Nissa's.
"Yes?" Her eyes remained on the moon, spell bound. When nobody answered, she turned towards his voice, hands still tingling.
That ticklish feeling spread like wild fire through out her body when Kyros planted a firm, demanding kiss on her lips. It took a moment for Rita to realize what he was doing, and what she should be doing. But, in her shock, all she could manage was a gentle touch on his cheek. Slyly, he teased her mouth to open, his own tasting like tobacco and winter.
Kyros pulled away, his smile's radiance rivaling the moon. She was the only one breathless.
"You looked like you needed to be kissed." And with that, he sprinted away and disappeared into the stair well. Rita looked at her feet, terribly shaken by one simple kiss. Her first kiss…and for such a stupid, unbelievably unromantic reason! A simple kiss.
That might be how Kyros viewed it, simple, but Rita knew how dangerous one kiss could be from past experience. From a past life. The moon no longer held her enthralled; she could not face it, for she had the distinct feeling it would be grinning at her.
~*~*~*~
Washington
The celebration was once again held with only a small group of friends. The guest list was impressive: three wild powers, the sole Battle survivor from the Night World's side, and the youngest survivor of the Daybreak's side. Delos' relatives outnumbered Maggie's, who only had Miles present. With their soul mates, Delos had invited James Rasmussen, Ash Redfern, and Jez Redfern. Their adoptive relation was on a mission. Most of the couples had already arrived at the sunny expansive apartment in Washington.
Maggie found Maria, who smiled cheerfully, waiting on her door mat. The petite girl heard laughter and debating in the impressive apartment before her.
"Where's Valdis?" Maggie asked, peering over her shoulder. Maria gave a suspiciously sweet smile and sailed past her.
"The bastard of whom you speak had trouble on the stairs," she replied airily and settled next to Philip North on the couch. Maggie narrowed her steely gaze when Maria's hand flirtatiously pushed his shoulder, casually smiling at his comment. Delos, who was in conversation with Ash Redfern in the dining room, gave his soul mate a warning look. Both he and Morgead had ambitions for Philip and Claire. Apparently, it was Maggie's duty to nip Maria's plans in the bud.
She marched over to the couple and sat in the snug space between them, pushing Philip aside with a strong hand. "Trouble on the stairs?" she asked Maria, ignoring Philip's irritated stare. "But, we have an elevator."
Maria gave a beautiful smile. "Valdis did not make it to the elevator."
Tybal and Eldson constantly belittled the other's attempts of hostility. There was some sort of pleasurable bickering between the two, one that nobody besides Ash and Mary Lynnette could fully understand.
Maggie insightfully noticed the tinge of discomfort in her friend's expression and directly asked, "What happened this time?"
"I walked in my," Maggie gave her a sharp look. "Our apartment," she corrected with a sigh, "yesterday and he was talking on the phone and when he saw me he took the phone into the bathroom."
"So?" Mary Lynnette asked and handed them two cups of eggnog. Maria appreciated the sweet alcohol. "He might have just been going to the bath room."
Maria gave her new friend a withering look. Because their soul mates were some what friendly, the girls found themselves in each other's company in New York and in Arizona. The chocolate haired woman believed Valdis and Ash shared many characteristics; sporadic male insensitivity, natural loftiness, instant malevolence towards competition, and none too noble tricks, in love or war. But where Ash Redfern preferred to lie in bed until hell froze over (of course, with a blanket and soul mate by his side), Valdis believed idolatry as a plague to the modern world. His military attitude did not usually compromise with Maria's own independent, recently impetuous attitude. Despite their months old acquaintance, Maria suspected that Mary Lynnette knew little of Valdis' character to judge.
Besides; Ash disliked Maria, Maria despised Ash, and Mary Lynnette felt unease with Valdis, while Valdis was oblivious to all negative attitudes.
"Or he wanted to let Ash hear the sound of our toilet," she suggested savagely and shifted in her seat. Maria did not like the way these girls cornered her into admitting these unpleasant events.
"But Ash was on the plane yesterday," Mary Lynnette pointed out, feeling as suspicious as Maria had been. Her detective streak sparked immediately. Who had Valdis been talking to? And why did he have to hide it from his soul mate?
"That's what I said. And then he said that I shouldn't get excited. For god's sake, do I look like a child susceptible to conniptions?" Both Maggie and Mary Lynnette bit their tongues. Ash often referred to her as the weak Chihuahua who believed she was a Doberman.
"What'd you do?" Maggie prompted when Miles walked past them and Maria smiled invitingly at him. Honestly, was nobody safe from Maria's vengeful romantic attempts? Even at a Christmas party, Maggie lamented inwardly, the girl refused to sheath her manicured claws.
"Hmm? Oh, I did what every woman would do. I accused, he yelled, I yelled back and then I threw a book and went to the air port without him."
"Very mature," Mary Lynnette commented with a laugh. Before Maria could respond, Ash opened the door to reveal a tall vampire, with hair of blood red and sea colored eyes. Valdis distractedly handed Maggie and Delos' Christmas presents and brushed past him, purposely oblivious to Maria's hard stare. She thought he would storm in and yell at her; instead he circulated about the room, with that damn cell phone glued to his ear.
"Exactly how did he get that scar on his temple?"
"Maria threw a pencil at him a couple of months ago," Maggie answered for her silent friend. For Maria, that particular example of instant anger still stung. Deciding that their further questions would only lessen her well placed fury towards Valdis, Maria became selectively deaf.
Without a word, she stood up and accosted her soul mate as he paced by the window. Upon seeing her presence, Valdis halted all conversation and waited patiently for whatever she had to complain of now.
But Maria Tybal did not open her mouth. Instead she silently grabbed the cell phone and threw it out the window. Ignoring his exclamations, she smiled and walked to where Keller Drache and Miles Neely sat, her back facing the rest of the room. Somewhere behind her, Maria heard Ash disgracefully snort with laughter at Valdis' expression.
Apollo Drache was little over two now, and 'terrible' did not cover it. He bit his mother's arm and spilled fruit punch on Miles' sweater. All the while babbling excitedly about something of great importance, without having a single soul in the room understanding.
It was like observing a strange new creature. A slobbery, inanely loud new species with dumb founding energy. The toddler made Maria thank heavens she wouldn't get knocked up with Valdis. While they conversed, the child momentarily disappeared from sight.
Later, Keller heard an irritated snarl and turned to Maria, who had her hands above her head as if in surrender. "Keller, get it off of me." 'It' was a small and amazingly convivial jaguar kitten clutching precariously to her cashmere red sweater.
"I thought you worked with kids at the day care," Keller pointed out as she struggled to pull out her son's embedded claws from Maria's top. "You'd think you were used to this."
"I make it a point to avoid the non potty trained, thank you very much. Can you please hurry up?" The 'please' sounded forced. "My arms are starting to ache."
"Well then use them to help me. He doesn't have a disease you know."
"Of course he does," was all she replied, knowing very well the comment wouldn't sit very well with the protective mother. Keller's eyes flashed. Maria never knew whether she would have survived Keller's reaction, for Maggie announced supper. At the same time, Valdis passed them and deftly took the eggnog from her raised hands and threw it in the trash can.
Much to the others' amusement, by the time they entered the dining room the only empty places left were adjacent and between Morgead and Poppy. Although Maria appeared stormy, Valdis matched Poppy's enthusiasm as they chatted. Conversation fluttered around the oblong table. Maria soon forgot the curse sitting beside her and cheerily joined the talk.
Morgead was discussing the continuous rise of the Old Powers; which, Maria privately reflected, was such cheesy phrasing.
"It just makes things so weird," he said. "Like you know, you got your mind set to rules about my species and this species and that species. But with the Old Powers," he shook his head with a smile, "you never know. For example, I've heard of a witch couple in Vermont who had twins, boy and a girl."
"Hand me the wine. What's so strange about that?"
Morgead poured the drink for her and then leaned closer. "The girl doesn't have any powers," he informed her in a dramatically cryptic tone.
"The boy stole them," Maria declared as she set down the glass. "That's just like a male, to be so inconsiderate." Her voice was deliberately loud, her pretty eyes sliding a furtive look towards her boyfriend.
Morgead frowned at her studied viciousness and shook his head. "Nah, I don't think so. The boy's power is pretty normal. But if that was true, and I was the girl, I'd beat his ass so hard the power would bleed out of him."
Maria laughed at the thought of Morgead's attitude in a girl's body. Then again, all one had to do is look at his soul mate. When she reached for her drink, her hand grasped nothing and she spied the glass sitting near Valdis' plate. Before she could vocally tear him to shreds, a small furry and ticklish form of trouble appeared on her lap.
"Good Lord, Keller can't you control your child for one second?" Maria asked irritably, and once again lifted her hands in the surrender position. Lord only knew what kind of bugs hid in that fur. Adorable blue eyes gazed blankly at her.
"What are talking about?" Galen returned in a puzzled voice. "Apollo's right…oh, never mind," he muttered upon seeing the high chair empty and the buckles ripped.
Valdis addressed his soul mate for the first time. "What's the matter, Maria? Afraid of the little baby?" Maria desperately wished for a wooden stake for his acidic tone.
"Of course not," she snapped, brown eyes flaming. "If I could bear living with a dumb ass like you, I can certainly handle an infant."
Galen chided her choice of words in front of his son. Maggie spoke with urgent pleasantness about the weather, but failed to curb the conflict. Delos simply smiled, eager for entertainment. Jez rolled her eyes, and wondered if Goddess herself could keep the two in peace for more than a week. Poppy giggled, James smirked, and Keller glared. The picture of a merry Christmas dinner.
"Pass the mashed taters," Poppy asked lightly, knowing very well now was not the time to bother the couple. Maria frowned and picked up the hefty bowl when Valdis produced a reply.
"Are you so certain about that?" Maria's arms stopped just inches away from Poppy's hands.
"Why? Do you think I'm incompetent as you are?" Maria demanded, unconsciously drawing the bowl farther from the eager vampire.
"Nope," he answered blithely. "I was just wondering how you would manage when our own baby comes."
The mashed potatoes landed on the table with a splatter. Poppy clapped her hands and congratulated them on adopting, while Delos wondered aloud who would find Tybal and Eldson fit for parent hood. Maggie frowned over the spilled mashed potatoes. Only Maria comprehended what her boy friend meant.
"Valdis dear," she said with thinly veiled impatience, "when did you conceive?" The question caused Jez, who had no opinion on the matter, to choke on her chicken with laughter. Morgead thoughtfully thumped her heartily on the back, admiring the shade of beet red his soul mate suddenly possessed.
"You know very well I can't hold the baby," Valdis said cheerfully and handed Jez a glass of water. "Do you know who I was talking to before you rudely threw the phone out the window? Your doctor."
"Oh I see," Mary Lynnette broke in. Ash looked at her curiously. "You found out yesterday when you told her not to get excited. And that's why you took her eggnog and wine. Duh Maria."
Maria looked at Mary Lynnette as if she had committed treason against her gender. "I'm not pregnant," she repeated. "I'd think I'd know if I was pregnant. Besides," she said with a delicate sniff, "I haven't the constitution to give birth."
"Oh what a load of bull," Lupe drawled, who was the only one still eating. "You've got the constitution to give birth to an elephant." Somewhere in that strange comment, Maria was sure a compliment lurked. Then she made a face; it was very disturbing imagery.
"That won't be necessary," Valdis replied, proud as a peacock, and patted Maria's hand. "Thankfully, we're going to have a normal, half breed, little girl."
"Nobody said it is going to be a girl," Maria said heatedly and snatched her hand away. "I mean…Christ, I'm not pregnant!" Still on her sweater, Apollo mewed, the tiny sound a contradiction. "Will somebody get the damn brat off of my breasts?!"
Miles gave an impish smile and commented innocently, "Cats do like milk, you know." His words earned him a painful pinch from Maggie. He pinched back. Delos tried to intervene, but Maggie pinched his hand away.
"We haven't even…" Maria trailed off as Valdis idly scratched at his scar. "Oh dear," she said quietly, poking at the food on her plate, "I do believe I'm pregnant." Valdis smiled victoriously, and informed her she was three and three fourths months along. Then, with the appearance of ensuring the deadness of her meal, Maria began to viciously stab her chicken. Valdis guessed that the asparagus were wiggling too, for they met the same, punctured fate as the bird.
Maggie watched curiously and finally pulled it away. Nobody wants pinpricked china in their cupboards. Besides, that metal on porcelain sound was freaking the hell outta Apollo.
"See!" Morgead declared, sounding as if he won an argument. "See, what did I tell you about the Old Powers, forces, whatever they're called? Think about it. Not only is it physically impossible for these two make babies, but also chemically cuz of those pills. They leave you infertile for up to five years even after you stop taking them. You have one out of a million chance of getting pregnant from one night."
Jez raised an eyebrow at his new knowledge. "Claire and her human development classes," he shrugged.
"Oh hell," Maria said to herself, though everybody heard, "and damnation. I'm pregnant. Me. Pregnant. Hell and damnation."
"Denial ain't just a river in Egypt," Philip smiled the same time Maggie commented happily, "And to all think it started with guilt sex from a thrown pencil."
"Not guilt entirely," Maria corrected. Valdis frowned, and Maria shrugged. "Oh, come on, it's not like I'm going to tell the baby how he came to be."
"Oh yeah," James said caustically, "that's why I want to adopt. To explain to the kid the factors of conception."
Poppy's already glowing face brightened considerably at the topic. "We're approved you know. We've just got to visit next week and then we'll be parents." Her friends gave sincere congratulations.
Maria's elegant features were still tense. The boy, who was supposed to be a loving, caring soul mate, rudely dropped the biggest news of her life without the decency to inform in private. Then, with the biggest ego in the universe, he acted as if he had done all the work. Damn bastard.
With a little jump, she realized Delos was addressing her. Most likely after some pressure from Maggie to be polite to all guests. "What do you hope it will be, Maria?"
"Be?" she repeated dumbly. She hadn't even considered raising anything but a dog, and now all of a sudden she had to think about a baby and its sex. "A…a boy, I suppose," she answered quietly, toying with her food. Delos dismissed her uncharacteristically subdued tone to happiness. Male logic, go figure.
"For once, I don't want to argue with you," Delos replied with some surprise. He had expected her to desire a girl, and then raise a feminist rally to support her choice. "Why?"
She shrugged her delicate shoulders. "I…I guess for a junior. I sorta like having a senior and junior in a family." And, as usual, Valdis disagreed, and announced he wanted a girl. If it wasn't for the present company and the lovely cream table cloth, Maria would have stabbed him then and there. "It's my womb isn't it? I'll have what I please."
"Well it was my sp—well I helped make her, so it's going to be a girl." Maria's nostrils flared ever so slightly, her eyes glowing to a lighter color. The signs of Tybal ready to erupt and promptly give a verbal lashing that would draw blood. Abruptly, she jerkily rose from the table, upsetting her glass in the process, and distractedly excused herself to powder her nose.
Then Keller cursed as she noticed her son's presence was once again gone from the table. Great confusion ensued as the party looked for the tot when Lupe spotted a cub skillfully climbing the Christmas tree in the living room. Some of the guests left to coax little Apollo out of the branches, for Maggie, always enthusiastic over Christmas, had purchased a ten footer.
"How do you plan to return to your hotel tonight?" Valdis heard Lupe ask him as he wondered what took Maria so long in the bath room.
"We drove here," he called back. The werewolf appeared in the dining room with a sly smile.
"And now she's driving away." Too late did Valdis recall he did not have the keys.
Maggie was very confused when a blur resembling Valdis, sped past her and thanked her for the enjoyable get together.
~*~*~*~
Hours later, Rita sat next to Quinn as they sped past Anomina's elm trees. That was hardly something to think about. Rita did not care whether the vampire drove five or fifty miles over the speed limit. Her hands tingled because Kyros, Winnie, and Rik were arguing in the back seat. Not so much arguing, but teasing Winnie of her time it took to get ready.
A heavy depression had settled onto Rita's features, and during her silence of the car ride she tried to ignore it. But the thought of facing her worrisome mother and invalid sister… The mere vision of them caused her to sink lower in her seat.
They were going to see her house. They were going to see the one story hovel and they were, most likely, going to meet her brain damaged sister. With one look at the pathetic abode and then the hopeless family, Rita was sure they'd turn to her with pity in their eyes. And Rita hated pity. She'd rather belly dance on hot coals than hear the words "I'm sorry about your sister." Glisscielle pride hadn't even let her accept condolence cards. She was prepared to forcibly kick them out of her home if she heard a single sympathetic syllable.
And she hated Quinn. He knew about her situation, and yet he forced the witch to come. Rik and Kyros volunteered out of boredom and, despite Rita's urgent looks, Quinn consented. She wished the vampire never even found out. They were leaving under the pretense of driving Rita home, but she saw no reason to bring the witch along. Although the animosity had decreased considerably in the last few hours, the witch's commiseration would be horrible.
All too soon, they pulled past the tall hedges and into her drive way. There. The gray house sat before them like a road kill. Unpleasant but unfortunately very visible. Rita left the car without a good bye, the duffel bag in hand. By the time the others made it to the door, she had already slammed it shut.
"I'm home, Mother," she called out tiredly and tossed the duffel bag into her room. Her voice bounced off the empty white walls. "Mother," she said again, louder. She checked her mother's room. No sister and no nurse. With a worried frown, she walked briskly to the kitchen. Guilt coursed through her shaken body. And to think she had been lamenting over their very existence just moments earlier…
Dog stretched lazily from his position atop the microwave. He stared at her indifferently before returning to his nap.
"Where are they?" she asked him. Rita opened the garage door, and saw there was no Altima. But it was a Monday. Her mother had most likely gone to work early, but that didn't explain her sister and the nurse's disappearance. Rita went to the living room, where two vampires sat on her sofa.
"I can't find my family any where," she told Quinn worriedly.
"I know," he replied calmly. "They're in Boston."
"Boston?" She repeated dumbly. "What's in Boston?"
He didn't answer; instead he motioned something to Rik. Her classmate handed her a piece of note book paper and an envelope full of money. She read her mother's loopy words, but the baffled look stayed on her face.
"But she hates her brother in law. Technically he's my father's brother in law's brother in law. He didn't like my father, or my mother, or me. Why on earth would she go visit him for Christmas? And without me," she added, a bit peeved her mother decided to take her sister, but not her coherent daughter.
"It would be safer for them," Quinn explained easily, fiddling with a figurine from the display case. Rita frowned, even she wasn't allowed to open that glass case. "If Amaro does seek revenge on you, it would be best of family was out of the way."
"And how long are they going to stay there?"
"Indefinitely."
"What about my mother's job?" she asked, exasperated.
"Taken care of," Quinn replied, obviously finding the conversation dull. Rita suspected everything was "taken care of" and without her consent. "You'd want them to be in Boston than dead, right?" He asked when she saw she didn't approve.
"Of course," she snapped. "But Kyros told me that the nurse was going to work…"
"She is," Kyros corroborated as he came in from the hall way. He had a large hard cover book in hand. "She just went with them."
"But you made it sound like they were all still here," she stated angrily. Kyros only gave an infuriating grin.
"Rita, we just didn't want ya to get all mad before the party. Coulda refused to go." Despite his friendly tone, Kyros sounded very cold and uncaring. Rita studied him, not understanding how the man she kissed earlier this morning could be so callous. This was her family, her flesh and blood, that they herded around like cattle, and they expected her to understand.
He sat next to Rik on the couch and opened the book. Her year book from junior high. "Who's this Jason?" he asked, pointing to the year book signing. "He called you sweet heart."
Just like that. The matter had been dismissed, and just because these boys felt like it. Who cared if Rita was still concerned about her family? The Glisscielle's were out of the way, and that was that. Rita thought her anger was going to burn her own bones. Summoning, all her strength and will power, she managed to say, "Get out," without exploding. Then she marched to her sanctuary, slamming the door behind her.
Thankfully, they complied. But only after she heard the front door slam and Winnie say, "I set up the wards. Where's Rita?" Only subdued male murmurs followed. Then, with tangled up emotions, she watched from her window as the Mustang pulled away. She could almost hear them now.
"So that's Rita's house," Rik would say. "Not as scary as I'd thought. Just really, really small."
"It's so sad," Winnie would then comment airily. "That awful décor and then the family. No wonder she never smiles." Quinn and Kyros would, of course, say nothing because they had been to her home before.
Rita sighed as she sat in her over sized pink chair. The fire place was cold and dark. The books were dead, and no longer spoke to her as they did before. She was spoiled by the interaction of living company. Rita shook off these depressing thoughts and turned on her radio. Music always cheered her up.
"Well, Verity, you got what you asked for. A night without your invalid sister, your tired and nagging mother, and that awful nurse. And for being so good, you get to have Christmas Day to yourself," she told herself miserably. "Thanks, God," she added spitefully, looking heavenward. She imagined him to be laughing right about now. Trying to ignore the irritating, imaginary Holy chuckles, she moved to her bed room and slept for the rest of the day and then the night. Partying was more exhausting than she thought.
She didn't know why she had hoped. All Christmas Day she would glance out the window. Hoping to catch a glimpse of somebody, anybody, who thought of her on the holiday. But she was only rewarded by an appearance of a cardinal. And even he appeared to be having more fun than the girl and her cat. The new outfit her mother gave her did not fill the empty feeling inside. The cat left hours later, making her day even more depressing.
"If this is Christmas, I can't wait till New Year's," she muttered as she watched the Claymation specials on the telly. Jack Frost was admiring a human girl from afar. Hopefully, there would be no appearances from anybody outside her species from now to the next holiday. Because…she didn't know why. Maybe because she didn't know many of them, and all the non humans so far had been very questionable.
But, of course, school would recommence soon. Books, clubs, and planning for the major soiree. She just wished Adrian Amaro wasn't in any of her classes.
"Curses," she muttered aloud on the couch. "I just jinxed myself."
She had no idea how very close the man in question was.
To be continued.
~*~*~*~
the curious attractiveness of others."
Oscar Wilde
Well? Improvement? Or the antonym of improvement? Please review, and I will adore you forever. For those of you who might be confused to the traveling to Washington to Maria's predicament, it does all tie together. Just sit back and experience the joys of parallel story lining. If you haven't read my other story (and don't! For god's sake don't you dare!) you might as well know I've messed with the lives of L.J. Smith's original characters, and now I just like to give them happy endings. OH and it might be a while before I update, because school starts tomorrow. Cringing at the thought of AP Lit…I'll try my best to post ASAP if I'm encouraged though… Chapter three's gonna be a doozie.