General note to everybody: Right well, a lot of you are hating Adrian, which is perfectly understandable. But do keep in mind that the lines between villain and victim are ambiguous at best. Oh dear, that was a horribly cryptic line, wasn't it? Any way, I'm so happy about my seven reviews. On the seventh, I've turned SEVENteen. Seven reviews, turning SEVENteen on the seventh…coink-e-dinks always make me absurdly cheerful. It was sorta like getting seven extra b-day presents. Too bad this isn't chapter seven; that would have been perfect.
Any way, I planned on updating on Wednesday, but as we all know, the site was remembering that day. I'm sorry if some of you are tired of hearing it, but I'm glad that Xing decided to do that. Made me sorta ashamed—here I was, thinking about updating when I should have been grateful that my cousin survived, who worked at the WTC. Any way, just a sorta explanation on the delay.
NatalieNJS: Hey! Always happy to see new reviewers reviewing ~~~ well, if that wasn't redundant phrasing, I don't know what is. Ignoring all that bad wording, just showing my small but oh so important gratitude for your review. You're like the only one who's happy with the soul mate choice. Hooray for originality!! I was relieved to see that someone likes the flashbacks; I was afraid they'd be too angsty. Claps hands Yay! Another person's chosen this as one of their faves. Thanks!!!
Lilith: Hilo! I know "Thanks for reviewing" is getting really over played (at least by yours truly), so I'll just say…Thanks for reviewing. I know, corny at its worst, but it's said/written with all sincerity. I hope you like this chapter and that I didn't keep you waiting for too long. Bye!
Skylark: Oh, dear, I didn't mean to emphasize Adrian's bad guy-ness; just to show their marriage. But, to give the guy some credit, he never told her he loved her. Truthful…in some twisted way. And, I hope I do have a good reason to make him a soul mate, although I'm really starting to doubt it now that I've read everybody's opinion of him. Maybe I just like a challenge. And, of course, I'll add some more Maria/ Valdis/baby info. Well, thanks bunchies for the review! Happy trails!
Practikalmagik: I knew nobody would get that clam chowder thing. See, the plot thickens, right? Chowder thickens too! Plot…chowder…plot…chowder…thick! Right, well, I didn't guarantee everybody would understand my sense of humour.
Person with no name: Hello. Are you the same person with no name who reviewed before? Doesn't matter, I value your review all the same. Thanks for the encouragement, though, it's very much appreciated.
Martha: Your little smiley faces always make my day. I'm glad you liked those little things. The sleepover did seem a bit out of character, didn't it? I was so relieved to see that it was made believable.
Jiana Weasely: Glad you liked it so much, even though it was a bit angsty. Your enthusiasm practically jumped off the screen. Nothing's wrong (or at least in my opinion) in babbling on the computer. Sorry about the start of your school year! Of course I feel privileged that this story is one of your faves. Thank you for the really nice review!
Vague Verity
Chapter 5
"Marriage is the only
~*~*~*~
Prior Past
The homecomings were usually as festive as Navidad. Servants, the most important of their inconsequential class, lined the entrance of his estate to greet him. And at the end of this human chain would stand his little Gitana, glowing with happiness.
Yet as Adrian entered his home, there was no woman child to greet him and babble welcome. The manor felt bizarre, empty. As if somebody had gone and snuffed out a lone candle in a desolate cave. Adrian tensed and frowned; Gitana was most likely in the stables.
He went as far as walking there, only to find the simpleton Jorge, alone. Ignoring the boy's gracious remarks, he turned and stalked back to his home. Tired of searching for the giddy little girl, Adrian retired to his room, for the two days journey had fatigued him more than he cared to show. Exhaustion was weakness, and Amaros never showed weakness.
Or so he thought. Adrian found one very fragile Amaro lying in his bed. With an inward sigh, he sat on the edge, not wanting to disturb the slumbering little Tana. Her hair, worn loose, cascaded down her back, the startling amount of tresses rivaling her body size. Faint lines of worry graced around her closed eyes, and even in rest his little Tana appeared troubled. He noticed with a smile that the good luck, faceless rag doll occupied his side of the bed.
Then and there, he decided that little Tana was very fortunate to have met him when she did. What good luck she had to find a protector and provider before her obvious physical decline. And yet this was her gratitude. Although he found her raucous welcomes rather irritating, the least she could have done now was washed and dressed for the return of her hero.
The door silently eased open as servants shuffled in, dragging in the trunks and gift boxes. Impatient, Adrian dismissed the incompetents and rummaged through the packages in search of the present that would most please her.
To Adrian, her awakening was as obvious as a tap on his shoulder. She did not mean to let him sense it, he knew that much when he turned towards her, and saw the quick flicker of surprise. And yet little Tana did not speak; she simply lay there, half propped up by the pillows, and watched him curiously.
Gitana saw not an ounce of remorse or apology on her husband's features. Adrian looked as he always did after a journey; tired, but satisfied of the foreign events. With a stab of bitterness, tiny and potent, she realized that Adrian had probably forgot the entire quarrel. What shattered her world meant nothing to her other half.
Adrian's snapping fingers drew her from her dismal thoughts; he had been speaking of the pastel box in his hand. Even when he muttered an explanation, Tana looked up at him blankly. With a sigh that said "Of course you would act this way," he coaxed her into a sitting position and opened the box for her. A diary. She quoted him coolly, stating that she was half literate. Adrian smiled tightly and opened another box.
It was not until she felt something cool slip around her neck did Gitana realize Adrian had given her a gift. Sleepiness still lingered in her mind, she supposed, because it was becoming very hard to focus on Adrian or anything he said. Her hand flew to her neck, and indifferently caressed the cold hard pearls. Three strings, with two shell shaped clasps at the sides.
Like a parent to a toddler, Adrian led the silent Gitana to her looking glass. A tiny voice fought against her obedient mind, righteously protesting Adrian's dominating manner. She quickly quelled it when she spied a tiny smile on her husband's lips. He was pleased with her.
"Oh," she breathed softly, "they're black." Of course they're black, she thought. Adrian always liked the look of a funeral, and preferred to have his people mourn with him. In the reflection, she caught sight of her prepared gown for the day resting, or rather, standing on its own stiff accord near a chair. Adrian's eyes followed the focus of her attention and, with usual abruptness, left the dressing room and returned with two boxes.
Tana watched impassively as Adrian presented the contents of the little packages. Normally, he did not care to touch his wife's garments, unless undressing her led to more enjoyable experiences, let alone praise them like some lowly sales clerk. But the expression of indifference spurred him to impress little Tana. Trinkets, in the form of pleasant colorful boxes, had always brought ridiculous delight to his little wife. Adrian frowned. The white silk, embellished with black and red embroidery, only drew a polite smile from her. When she saw he was displeased with her silence, Gitana spoke.
"That ensemble," she said lightly, "will make me look like a face card." Adrian realized she was right; and it was a damn irritating realization.
Gitana gave something dangerously close to a shrug, and pulled the bell rope and ordered the summoned maid to arrange a bath. It was only after her irking politeness in her thanks that Adrian realized he had been dismissed. Like a common churl, he was out of her mind. When she cleared her throat, he kissed the top of her head and escaped to his study.
Anger and suspicion, like the sun's radiant smile, is unavoidable for an ignored husband returning home. There was no rational link between his disordered library and his wife. But still. His little Tana was acting very strange. His carefully shelved books were in a very strange state. For the shared adjective, the lady of the manor was summoned to face the extremely piqued husband.
The seconds between his order and her arrival only increased his ire. She was being childish again, he concluded. Probably pouting over the new clothes' length, for he could never remember how small she was, or giggling in her frivolous bubble bath. After five minutes, he decided to march to Lady Gitana's chamber and forcibly drag her from the tub. Whether she cursed him soundly or obediently accepted his accusations, it would be a pleasant sight.
Gitana swept in, and stood before him in the corner that held the literature, hands clasped and eyes cast down. Already, she was clad in his gifts, pearls and all. Yet…the very fact of the clothes, and her polite curtsy and equally polite smile, screamed insolence and indifference. Somehow, obedience had transformed into impertinence, and he did not like it one bit.
"Yes, Adrian?" She prompted, and he realized he had been staring.
He pointed to the disarrayed books lying on the shelves. "These are out of order."
Gitana coolly raised an eyebrow. "Tell the servants then. I'm certainly not going to fix them for you." Seeing him scowl, she quickly added, "It wouldn't be very ladylike to do the help's duty." Adrian scowled again, but for a different reason. His little wife had been right. Damn her, he thought pettishly.
He spotted a grin on her rosebud lips, and felt the need to erase her tart smile. There was never anything to smile about, as far as he was considered. Adrian Amaro believed that, as soon as you celebrated one happy moment, another terrible event occurred just to spoil the fun. Smiling was a waste of muscle movement.
"We have gala in a few weeks."
"Hmmm…we, is it? Oh fine," she consented, as if she had a choice, "Where is it?"
Adrian's eyes glittered like the cold, merciless ocean. "Here," he answered. Her composure disappointedly did not crumble. She merely widened her already wide eyes, murmured something unintelligible, and left the room. Outside, in the hall way, Gitana leaned against the door. How very malicious of him. There was no doubt in her mind that had had planned this weeks before and purposely did not enlighten her just for her look of surprise. Well, she thought angrily and gathered her skirts. She had just given one performance; she would give another that evening.
The next few weeks were very confusing to Adrian Amaro. Two days before the fiesta, Amaro pondered the changes as he tested a new red roan about the estate.
Not only had his wife taken to orthodox garments, but sedate occupations as well. Sewing, reading, turning old dresses. No riding, much to his puzzled relief. Her appetite increased as well. Tana's voice held no longer the cheery, fast manner that usually made him tune her out completely. Instead, a sweet sotto voce had replaced the bird like twitter, almost caressing him to sleep. Sleep, he thought as the roan decided to leap over a creek, and the bed had never really gone hand in hand; other activities, however…. It was the only change he disapproved of.
She had shrank away from him the night before, and the night before that. Even when she became pliant, she shuddered and tensed when she usually smiled or giggled. Perhaps she had sickness. Perhaps he should send for the apothecary; for humans were irritatingly frail. Perhaps she had learned of the expected lover from the servants and found comfort else where. Without explanation, it suddenly became very important to Adrian Amaro to find out exactly what was wrong with his little gypsy.
Days later, Gitana silently rued her own bravery. Although she maintained the appearance of having her own little world, Gitana Amaro was very aware of her surroundings. Most likely the red gown caused the vicious whispers. He chose the daring color, with its damn daring neck line, for nobody wore red in this town but harlots and gypsies. Why on earth would he arrange a social event if he didn't even bother to enjoy it?
Her husband, so deep in his own worries, did not recognize the cleverly disguised discomfort in his wife. Instead he asked her to dance. With mechanical compliance, she accepted and distractedly allowed him to lead. She stumbled a bit, for it was the first time she had danced the waltz with a partner in public and not an invisible hero in the privacy of her chambers. With natural ease and grace, Gitana quickly learned the steps, her brown eyes wandering restlessly through the sea of faces. She felt something was wrong, besides the obvious: her floundering marriage, the sadistic company, the heaviness of the rich food in her stomach…
"Gitana. Gitana. Tana, pay attention!"
Her soft brown eyes slid slowly to her husbands. "I'm sorry," she said in a delicate tone. "Did I step on your foot?"
He shook his head impatiently. "I just asked you a question."
"Ask it again." He wavered for a moment. Oh dear, she thought, he's had the lobster too. I never should have eaten that, I feel awful myself…
Gitana, lost in thought of stomach potions and gluttony, failed to notice they had gracefully swept past the other dancers and into a little shed under the grand stair case. As if waking from a dream, she blinked several times and tried discern her surroundings.
"Gitana," he began firmly, setting her down in a chair she had spilled milk on a month before.
"We shouldn't be here," she said softly, still gazing around. So this is where all that ruined furniture went. "We are the hosts, and we shouldn't abandon the guests…"
"Since when did you care about the guests?!" he demanded, exasperated. Then he remembered it was a mere human he dealt with and tried to maintain patience. "Just answer one question and we will return, I promise…Do you love me?"
She did not answer. Gitana rose from her seat and stood in the door frame, so that all Adrian Amaro could see was her corseted, pinched, and confined figure of a silhouette.
"You have made it difficult to love anybody else," she replied with something of her old smile. At his puzzled expression, she laughed softly and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
It took a few moments after she left for Adrian to realize she had not answered his question. Not a yes, nor a no. And she had said difficult, and not impossible. Angry for her sleight, he briskly left the shed.
Tana walked, distracted, back into the main hall. Only to find herself speaking to a taller woman. As the conversation continued, obvious reluctance and agitation settled on Gitana as she studied her. Beautiful facial features. Voluptuous curves. And garish jewelry that displayed disgusting extravagance. The mention of his name. The towering female's silvery laugh. Tana's own tensing in response.
The golden amazon spied him and excused herself, moving towards him with deliberate slowness and studied elegance. Strangely enough, Adrian took no note of the breathtaking lady prowling towards him. All he felt was a strange sharp pain when Gitana turned towards him, with such an expression of vulnerability and anguish he stepped back. Even hundreds of feet away, he saw tears in his little Tana's eyes. The gypsy looked like a helpless kitten, attacked by its own protective mother.
With one last look at the festive banquet, Gitana sighed and left the people who were supposedly now of her caste. The woman had spoken of Adrian so fondly, so outrageously intimately…it had to be her. And she was as beautiful as Gitana ever hoped to be. Fair, as fair as a well bred woman should be. Well rounded, for bearing children. Not so slender and gangly and brown as herself. Gitana sighed again and slipped off her wedding rings. She belonged in the stables. She was worth as much as the horses any way.
Only Adrian Amaro heard the gold bands fall to the marble floor with empty clangs.
~*~*~*~
The next morning, Rita found out that Bryan kept true to his word. He had not slept in his own room. In fact, it appeared that he did not sleep at all. Verity felt the cold air, and heard nothing. She stretched luxuriously, and wished her own bed at home would be just as wide.
When she opened her eyes, the boy was sitting in a chair at the computer desk; she learned it was very startling to wake up under a disturbing, scrutinizing stare.
"How long have you been there?" She didn't move; something about his piercing eyes made her very wary.
Bryan shrugged. "Not long. Sleep all right?"
Had he been staring at her all night, then? She had slept amazingly well considering the events; but Rita knew she wouldn't have knowing a possible murderer had been scrutinizing her for hours. With a smile people used to direct lost children, he informed her apparel for the day was in the bathroom, and that, since they were already late, they would stop by the Donut Hut for her breakfast.
Rita did not worry about his cold demeanor as she showered and tied up her hair. It would probably be a blessing if Bryan broke off their planned relationship. A separation would have quelled the growing Bryan-caused guilt in her stomach, considering her intentions weren't purely romantic.
But the orange eyed boy warmed considerably once they arrived at Anomina High. He offered his hand to help her out of the car, and the hold stayed all the way to health class. She was quite aware she was not the same wild haired girl of yesterday. So she did not understand why people's eyes bulged out alarmingly, or why, again, they whispered. Bryan, however, expected and enjoyed this sort of reaction. What else were people to think when a girl wore the same pants from yesterday, and a man's collared shirt? A shirt that had been given to him by Marjorie the Christmas before. It would not be long before rumors of Rita's sleepover at Bryan's mansion circulated.
It was sheer bad luck, or so she believed, that Bryan's seat was assigned to be on the other side of the room while Kyros sat in front, Jared in the back, Rik to her right, and Amaro to her left. In the back of the room too, where the harridan Mrs. Fullion would not notice, even if a circus broke through the wall.
Seventy years old and counting, Mrs. Fullion seemed to lack the strength to tolerate a thirty person class room. Which was why she drank her "vitamins"—what kind students never knew, for the vitamins took shape of a glass bottle wrapped in a paper bag—every ten minutes until she became rather tipsy and stumbled out of the room or fell asleep soundly on her desk.
But for once, Rita wished Mrs. Fullion had imbibed a refreshing Yoo-hoo instead of whisky this morning. As soon as the old woman let out a reverberating snore, Kyros turned around in his seat and frowned at her. Rita sank back in her chair, for the normally cheerfully Kyros looked at her like Puritanical preacher. Before he could condemn her to hell, she heard Jared say accusingly, "That's Smith's shirt."
Rita winced at his tone, and looked towards Bryan's side of the room for help; the vampire appeared to be flirting with Gaila Berry, and Rik, who had been stiff with disappointment, followed her gaze and then turned to her with the same look Kyros had. And she didn't dare turn to her left.
"Why are you wearing Bryan's shirt?" Rik demanded.
"I called you last night," Kyros informed her icily. "Where were you at midnight?"
"Didn't I tell you to be careful with Smith? Didn't I?" Jared raged.
She wished they were a little more discreet, her soul mate slash villain sitting right next to her. Feeling very low, she sank farther into her seat, for three pairs of disappointed eyes were too much for the girl accustomed to pleasing.
"Well?" she heard Jared prompt impatiently behind.
Rita fiddled with her sleeve before she said, in a voice so cool she did not recognize it as her own, "Would you rather I walked to school in just my bra?" Without waiting for Rik's answer, she turned to Kyros, "You shouldn't have called at midnight any way; I was at Bryan's, if you must know, and Jared," she murmured and turned to face him, "I can take care of myself."
"I really doubt that, Rita, I really do," Jared said, clearly furious with her. How is it that this acquaintance of a few weeks managed to make her feel guilty for necessary safety precautions?
"Does it look like I'm hurt? It seems to me that the only time I do get injured, I am in your company." The last part, she expected, stung him. But she did not know the depth of his wound until he swore enough to make a pirate blush, and then stomped out of the room, roughly shoving Kyros off his desk on the way out.
Rita frowned at her words, but realized it needed to be said. She had persevered fourteen years without a father; there was no need for anyone to assume the position now.
Still, her mind told her urgently, Bryan did have that little thing in his backyard. What was it let me see…I'm trying to remember…oh yes: A CORPSE! Goodness, Rita thought with some alarm, the subconscious could be so sarcastic.
But before she could open her mouth to haughtily explain, the dismissal bell rang, and the first period of lunch commenced. With disgusted looks thrown her way, her class mates, including Kyros and Rik, filed out of the class room. That only left Bryan to escort her to her next class; but with the image of the backyard body fresh in her mind, Rita quickly excused herself to her locker.
She found Rashel talking on one of the pay phones outside the gym on the lowest floor. Rita thought it was an important call to that boss, Thierry, until she heard the dark haired girl confirm pepperonis and give the high school's address. Already aware of her, Rashel found herself saying as she turned around,
"I can't stand your cafeteria's cuisine. What do you want?"
Her frankness momentarily alarmed Rita. Taking a deep breath, she said, "I stayed at Bryan's the other night."
"Congrats," Rashel replied flatly. "You sought me out to brag about your first notch?"
Rita shook her head impatiently. "He left for a while and I had time to investigate. Guess what I found," she whispered excitedly, although no one else was present in the hall.
"All right, Nancy Drew, I'll play along. You found…fruit punch stains on the carpet."
Rita frowned, and decided against telling her about the stains in his little sister's room. "No," she said, shaking her head, "a corpse." She expected some sort of excited reaction, or at least an interested gleam in her eyes. Instead, Rashel crossed her arms and sighed.
"Sorry," Rashel said at the sight of Rita's crestfallen face, "but he's a vampire, Rita. Even if he doesn't collect the dead as a hobby, his family members might. And we can't suspect Smith of any foul play just because his psycho sister was careless with her toys."
She should have guessed Rashel would have known everything about everybody. So far, everything the Daybreaker said sounded perfectly logical. But Rita couldn't ignore the tiny tinge of suspicion deep inside. "Still…if this was a little 'toy' why would she bother to hide it in the back yard?"
Rashel shrugged. "Maybe Papa Smith doesn't like the smell of decaying flesh around the house."
"Look," Rita began, feeling very irritated at her certainty.
"No, you look," Rashel interrupted harshly. "This mission is screwed enough already with lack of evidence and support in this god forsaken town. We have only two weeks till your stupid AS, and we still haven' t gotta clue as to what your soul mate's planning. Now you expect me to drop everything just because your crush is in danger?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Rita spied a glimpse of dark hair swiftly moving towards them. Despite's Quinn's intimidating presence, she couldn't help but persist. "He's not my crush. And I don't think he's in danger, because, like you said he's a vampire and he can take care of himself. I'm thinking he is the danger."
Quinn stood beside the girls, confusedly trying to ascertain the subject of the conversation. "Smith?" Again he was confused. As far as he knew, Smith and Amaro were not in cahoots.
"But he's not the one we want right now."
Rita drew herself to her fullest height, trying with all her might to loom over the girl. "So you're just gonna let him kill the town one by one?"
"We'll deal with him later, if there's anything to deal with," Rashel growled through clenched teeth. Rita stood her ground. How dare this girl question her suspicions? How dare this short wannabe Buffy dare doubt sensible President Rita's conclusions?
"I heard from Kyros that you used to be the best vampire huntress out there. But how can a huntress be an idiot and survive?"
Rashel's fierce green eyes flared before she jerked forward, only to slap air. When the student body president looked up from her squatting position, she saw Quinn holding his soul mate's hand, and frowning at both of them.
"Rita," he scolded as she stood up, "you should know that Rashel could kill mid blink."
"Or very slowly," his soul mate added venomously.
"And Rashel…"he shook his head in disappointment. "You know better. She's just a student, for god's sake, not a bad guy." As he spoke, Rita realized the foolishness of her words. Rashel could not only kill her before she blinked, the trained martial arts expert could gouge her eyes out so that she would never blink again. Considerably disturbing.
Catching sight of Ophelia, Rita quickly excused herself and ran along side the girl on her way to class. She could not help overhearing Rashel grudgingly order Quinn to do a more thorough C I on Smith.
"Why were you hanging out with the incest couple?" Ophelia asked with obvious scandalous curiosity. Rita stopped in her tracks.
"Pardon?" Her face was the picture of surprise.
"They're cousins," the chubby girl replied in a matter of fact manner. "You've never noticed how much they look alike?"
Rita frowned, puzzled over the identity of the source of the silly rumor. "Who told you this?"
"Bob Steve," Ophelia answered quickly, with a noticeable bit of pride. "He talks to me all the time in Lit." Rita waited till Ophelia entered her class room before she rolled her eyes. She should have expected Kyros to be so immature.
With an absent minded good bye to her friend, Rita left to report to her student aide officer and then proceeded to start her rounds. She was not surprised when, on the second day of school, Bryan was one of the many who already had detention. Instead of heading immediately towards the designated delinquent room, Bryan insisted upon helping Rita as part of his punishment. Her stomach tightened with nervous agony as they walked silently room to room, delivering messages, summons, and forgotten lunches. In a corner of her mind, she knew she should have been somewhat grateful for his rescue. But Rita couldn't help wonder if she had left the clutches of one murder into the loving arms of another. Of course, if she was to find the truth of her doubts, Rita kept her suspicions inside and tried to discipline her betraying expressions.
"So…" she began tentatively, inwardly cursing the tremble in her voice, "why do you have ISS so soon?"
Her apparent nervousness made him smile. And with that facial transfiguration, Rita caught her breath again. Perhaps it was the overwhelming recent events, or the fact that he had always shown contempt, indifference, or heartless amusement ever since they were children… but Rita never realized how very handsome he was. Bryan's genuine, merry little smile caused a sudden epiphany that explained why girls, and guys, swooned at his feet and why teachers melted at his slightest notice. Bryan Smith was just as handsome, or even more, than Rik Pinesworth or Jared Luna, or even Adrian…no she wouldn't think of him.
Soiree escort raised an eyebrow, his expression returning to that of the perpetually bored. With a burning blush, Rita turned away; while she had been admiring his features, her pace slowed until she stood stock still in the hall way. It was very difficult to think of a boy with whom she played house and little mermaid with as a man, let alone an attractive man. In any case or term, Bryan Smith found her attractive, and treated her with more kindness than anybody had shown her all her three years at Anomina High. Before she could wallow in her warm, girlish thoughts, she noticed belatedly that words were coming out of those perfect lips. Focusing abruptly became the immediate priority.
"…don't really find it a good reason for punishment. Do you have Mr. Goldsworthy?" As if waking from a dream, Rita shook her head, as both a negative and a way to gain more alertness. Rita found out that imagining seeing through someone's clothes was a practice not only reserved for men.
"Any way, he's from England and damn proud of it. Marty was wearing a shirt with a beer and Old Glory on it," he paused as she entered another class room, languidly returning eager hello's from the door way.
"But why would you get detention if Marty was the one promoting alcohol?" Rita prompted impatiently. She had decided it was time to stop gawking and return to sensible Verity Glisscielle.
"Hmm? Oh…yeah, Marty… Well, of course, they get into this big thing about the shirt. Marty says it's patriotic and Goldsworthy says it insubordination against the dress code. And I, maybe the only person who cared that we have a unit test in less than a week, tried to bring the stupidity to a stop."
"By…?"
"Explaining that Marty was probably going to be an alcoholic any way and that the only reason Goldsworthy was being such an ass about it was the American flag." Rita was visibly thrown into deeper confusion. "In my opinion, he's still bitter they lost the colonies." Rita reached over to grab his referral. The action caused a brief contact of their hands; Bryan smirked and leered unashamedly, while Rita ignored his reaction altogether.
"Five days of ISS and a parent-teacher conference. Something else happened, Bryan," she stated sharply and without hesitation. As quickly as it had fled, suspicion flooded her mind. If her childhood friend couldn't even tell her about small school trouble, what else could he hide?
"Fisticuffs," he supplied hollowly, feeling very much like a punished child the moment she frowned upon him.
"With?" she persisted sternly. Immaturity, she decided, decreased a man's desirability dramatically.
"Adrian Amaro. For god's sake don't look at me like that, Rita, I'm older than you, you know."
"By a year, but apparently stupider." She remembered her second encounter with Amaro, in the parking lot. He didn't even flinch the bullets, if he had been shot at all. Rita wondered why Bryan lived to tell the tale and not bleeding to death at Adrian's feet.
"Don't go acting like my father. He started it, I swear to god. My comment started something about land. Somebody said it's just land. Amaro, outta nowhere, says land's very important blah, blah, blah. Crap about possessions and who had it first. And I said that what he said was bull shit, and that we, Americans I mean, won it fair and square, if you disregard the Native Americans…"
"Which you shouldn't. Please don't tell me you boys had a brawl because something settled well over two hundred years ago in the Revolution," she lamented.
Bryan shook his handsome head as they ascended the stairs. "See, I thought we were talking about America. That guy's on something, Rita. What started the fight was when he goes, 'Maybe that's what they teach you, but from what I've learned, once you rightfully own something, she's yours until you say otherwise.' I think Goldsworthy was gulping down Bayer."
Rita had halted so abruptly and silently that Bryan had continued eight steps before he saw he lost his companion.
"Are you sure he said 'she'? Or 'it'?" Mentally, she pleaded the vampire to correct himself. Seemingly nonchalant, he confirmed the word "she" and gently pulled her up the steps. "And that's why you got into the fight?" Rita asked, exasperated.
"Hell, I no idea where the conversation went. He just came in swinging," he finished. Any other girl would have cringed at his expression, but Rita, having more or less grown up with him until his "military" father returned and moved them to a nicer part of town, calmly nodded and then stepped a noticeable foot away from him.
"You might as well know he was in my house the other night. And he's my soul mate. And that I was his wife in my first life, being an Old Soul and all. But don't worry, I don't like him." From debates, Rita had learned her best tactic was to stack all logical points at once, confuse the enemy, and, when in danger of them resurfacing to their own reasonable defense, strike viciously adding a few doubts of their intelligence. All the while keeping one harmless expression. The local Grant Hagan Scholarship favored debaters.
"Amaro?" Bryan's handsome visage was satisfyingly perplexed. "He was in your house? In your room, too, then?"
"Yes, Bryan. You don't think he visited to study my kitchen tiles, do you?"
He seemed flushed, and, for the first time, a bit embarrassed. Of course, he regained composure. "And…you're his wife." It sounded more like a question.
"I was his wife. Honestly, Bryan, I thought you were listening to me. I thought you knew more about this Old Soul nonsense than I do. Why don't you understand?" She stopped and faced him, meeting his gaze directly. "Don't you trust me?"
If somebody had warned Bryan a week prior that former child hood friend Verity Glisscielle would stand before him, in his best shirt, asking the most irritating and cliché question in any female's ammunition, he would have laughed…no, too much emotion. Maybe an eye brow raise. Many girls had asked him that, many girls who lacked the significance to deserve respect, let alone trust. But, with Verity Glisscielle, she always had to have things her way. First student councill, Anniversary Soiree, school finances, and now their budding romance.
So what began with slight jealousy and angry protectiveness of his territory, Bryan stared at the floor with familiar shame. The same kind that washed over him when he had ruined her mud pies by throwing them against a neighbor's house. Except this time, instead of a hard smack to the head, he'd lose his date to the Anniversary Soiree.
Saving face, Bryan looked up at her with what was known as the 'melting' look, declared complete trust in her, and offered to deliver the rest of her referrals and summons. Rita, who never cared for liquefying at a man's gaze, merely gave a small smile and consented. Enemy's trust secured. Now it was time to see if the enemy's corpse had a name.
Still armed with a student's aid badge, Rita found Samantha Rochert in Trigonometry and pulled her out to the hall way. Sammy T, who found her acquaintance's recent developments rather interesting, giggled when the president asked for information on a boy.
"Wait," Rochert stalled, quelling her excitement over the intrigue momentarily. "Does this mean you're already losing interest in Bryan?" Rita was unsure how to answer, since her "interest" in Bryan wasn't totally sincere.
"Samantha," Rita snapped harshly, in a voice used to command attention in council meetings. "Stop prying, you'll find out later. I need to know who in this high school had…I mean has two platinum caps. One on the bottom row and one on top row. He also has a fossil watch, with a red face with navy blue little faces for the month and date."
When given a task, a Rochert always concentrated. Samantha appeared deep in thought. After some silence, Sam asked, eyes distant, "I have fifteen boys in mind. Black or white?"
It was hard to see the precise color under that spongy, gray texture that was once skin. But by the hair type and major guessing, Rita finally answered, "White."
"Do you know what kind of shoes?"
When one discovered a corpse, shoe brand wasn't always a major concern. Concentrating just as Rochert had done, Rita slowly said, unsure of herself, "Timberlands, I think. Dark brown. Um…there was gum under the left? No, right foot, and under the heel. Does that help?"
Rochert gave a dazzling smile. "Scott Buffington. December twentieth, he was walking past me when he stepped in some gum I spit out earlier. I don't know why boys just don't learn. I spit my gum out there, at that exact spot, all the time. He was the fifth one that day. He yelled out 'What the hail?' and walked off. Seriously, he said 'hail' and not hell. I wonder why he hasn't bought new boots yet. Two platinum caps, he was late to Mandy's class one day because of the dentist appointment. That's all I could tell you."
Rita thanked her shortly and dismissed her back to class. It couldn't be Scott. She had just delivered him a detention notice ten minutes earlier.
Unknowingly taking after her late father, Verity groped for something or some one to blame. It couldn't have been herself. Even with her sister's unfortunate situation, she had managed to adapt. Things went awry when…he had arrived. And the devilish Daybreakers too. So, logically, the only way to retain her controlled life style was to be rid of them.
There. Simple as that. Drive the soul mate and daybreakers out of town by finishing their job for them. Apologize to your friends and know thine enemy.
Rita's lips curved into a complacent smile as she walked back to the student aide office. If there was one thing she could do, it was to finish a task, efficiently and quickly. But painlessly…well, that was just too much to ask for.
~*~*~*~
New York, New York
He was absolutely adorable. Light brown skin, enormous afro, and eyes that would turn any girl into syrup. Problem was, he was a little young, and still lived with his mom. Which was understandable, considering he had only completed five years of his life.
"Who's that?" Andrew demanded when he spied somebody over her shoulder. With a giggle, Maria realized he sounded very much like Valdis when he violently disapproved of her relationship with Kyros.
"My boyfriend," she answered with a warm smile.
"I guess you could talk to her," Andrew grudgingly allowed, climbing out of her lap and backing away. All the while glaring at Eldson, who tried his best to appear nervous.
"Oh," Maria sighed dreamily once the five year old was out of ear shot, "let's have one just like him."
Drawing his soul mate to her feet, Valdis frowned as he escorted her to her locker. "Just like him? Let's see, the whole boy thing is still up in the air. Fifty-fifty chance, I'm told. The excessive suspicion he'll get from me. Social difficulty he'll get from you. But," Valdis glanced ruefully at the boy as they left the daycare, "I don't think I can arrange for him to be African American. Neither can you."
"If you say so," Maria agreed solemnly. A shiver suddenly took her entire body and she snuggled closer to him.
"And if that baby comes with an afro, don't think I won't be suspicious."
"All right," she laughed through chattering teeth. Belatedly realizing her vulnerability to the disagreeable temperatures, Valdis cursed himself under his breath, promptly wrapped her in his own leather jacket, and literally swept her off her feet.
Extremely uncomfortable at such a new height, or rather, too much of it, Maria pleaded softly, "Valdis, don't make a spectacle of yourself. Or myself, for that matter. I can walk the next three blocks without people staring at me, thank you." Maria sensed that this sort of nonsensical protectiveness would be something to accept over the next seven months. Resigned, she tried to calm her soul mate as bold fellow pedestrians gave Valdis several suggestions as to what to do with his baggage. Then, five minutes away from their home, Valdis found himself grasping desperately at the wriggling form in his arms, for a flirtatious young girl, most likely fresh from the school room, had whistled at him. Maria had shouted more profanity than a pregnant woman ought to know or say, and struggled desperately to wrench out of his embrace to savagely hunt down to fleeing harlot.
"For God's sake," he exclaimed impatiently as they ascended the stair well, "she's probably running to Canada by now. Stop being so damn difficult!"
"You looked at her," Maria said heatedly, "Don't deny it. I saw you, and you gave that stupidly sexy grin of yours, and then the whore smiled back. I saw you."
Unable to contradict, Valdis shrugged nonchalantly as he roughly dumped her on their couch. "I thought she was lost. She looked like she was looking for someone." All right, so the last part was a little lie; but she did look a bit helpless, and Valdis had a natural need to protect women.
Maria snorted in disbelief. "Probably a customer."
Valdis ran his hands through his blood red hair in silent frustration. "I didn't see any rabid violence for the men who complimented you," he remarked dryly as he stalked towards his bedroom.
Maria, who had been lounging on the couch, bolted upright at his last comment. "But I'm used to it," she muttered under her breath.
"Then get used to people liking how I look; you're not the only gorgeous one here you know…" Maria frowned, wavering between anger for his arrogance and happiness at his compliment.
"Listen," he began, in a voice so gentle Maria immediately forgot her irritation, "your doctor called me. Well, he called for you actually, but you were at work…"
"What is it?" she prompted impatiently, for if he beat around the bush it only meant something unpleasant was going to happen.
"You sorta failed to mention your heart trouble."
"Yes," Maria confirmed slowly, eyes narrowing in suspicion, "that's because I don't have any." Inwardly, she was damning all doctors and all childhood illnesses with lasting cardiac effects.
Valdis rolled his eyes, and decided to ignore her perpetual denial, lest that led him astray from his original subject. "Well, you failed to mention your nonexistent heart trouble. Doc wants you to go in for an EKG tomorrow."
"I hate hospitals. Hospitals hate me," she added, thinking of all the nurses whose blood pressure she raised just because they wanted to check hers. "Let's just keep the peace and stay respectively away from each other."
"Think about the baby," he said angrily before he could help himself.
"I'm not stupid," Maria mumbled as she curled up into a fetal position next to him on the couch. Absently, she began to toy with his shirt buttons. "I know this could…do stuff to me. And then, Doctor Stupid will suggest an abortion." He noticeably tensed at the word, and Maria spoke hurriedly to comfort him. "I know some people justify it when the baby could kill the mom, but I don't. Believe me, when it comes between me or the baby, we'll choose the baby. Right?"
Valdis sat quietly, only moving to run his hand through her hair. It was more comforting to him than her. He knew his silence irked her, but irritation was much better than the fiery fury he'd feel if he spoke the truth. Inwardly, the choice was not as simple to him. The baby or Maria? I want to keep Maria, he thought selfishly. Damn the baby if it dare take her away again. He had lost her twice, no nearly three times. Maria loved him, no question, and would do so until death. The baby might grow up into one of those ungrateful brats. It might disown us or tell us how lame we are in front of the "cool" friends. Or worse, it could grow up and turn into what I was. Cold, ruthless, power hungry…
"Say you agree, Valdis," she ordered with a dangerously quiet voice.
He shook his head, purposely avoiding her gaze. "It's still early in the pregnancy," he whispered hoarsely, rubbing his eyes.
"The hell it is. Got enough cells to make a baby. My baby," she emphasized coldly. Was it his imagination, or had the room temperature dropped at her chilly tone?
"And what if you die?!" he asked savagely. "What if I get the damn thing and I have to raise it without you? Hell, Maria, I have trouble with Ceberus. What am I going to do with a baby without you?!"
Her eyes flared at the words "damn thing." Maria couldn't stand his indifferent attitude. Then she stared at him and gave a disappointed shake of her head. Valdis clenched his teeth as he watched her retreating form disappear into her bedroom. It was times like these when he hated the rising of the Old Powers. If it wasn't for the damn forces, he wouldn't be in this mess.
Maria leaned against her door after she had slammed it shut. Aunt Clara had foreshadowed this sort of behavior on an earlier phone call. And Maria's dear Southern relation also mentioned the status of the baby... With an exasperated growl, she turned around and flung the door open.
"And our baby will not be a bastard and you will find me the best diamond ring ever!"
~*~*~*~
Anomina, Massachusetts
As luck would have it, there was no need to fake remorse on her part. At lunch, Verity had approached the Daybreaker's table. Kyros had caught sight of her first, and thus drew Rik's and Jared attention to the new arrival. Before she could speak, Jared said gruffly:
"Listen, Rita…I guess I was a bit rough earlier. I know about your family and stuff and…and I guess a girl who could still take care of things like that and be the smartest girl in school could take care of herself. We all think that. Don't we, guys?"
Rik nodded, eyes cast down, and Kyros smiled and winked at her suggestively. Rita frowned sternly at him and asked him pointedly, "What is it you want?"
"See! I told you she wasn't stupid. I told you she'd know we were up to something," Rik exclaimed, proving some point as Kyros coaxed her into the seat beside him.
"But I really do apologize," Jared reiterated, eyes round. He reminded her of a child eager to please. "I really did mean it. You forgive me right?"
Rita smiled and nodded, patting his unruly hair when he looked doubtful. "But please get down to business," she told him as she unpacked her lunch.
It was Kyros who decided to inform her. "All right, here's the deal. We figured this whole waitin' and investigatin' is worth crap. We know nothin' and that might end up with a lotta people dead just 'cuz it took us too long to act. So we figured we'd better get to the root of the problem, ya know what I'm sayin'? That Amaro guy knows what's goin' on, and if you could just figure it out for us, it'd save us a helluva lotta time. 'Sides, if we beat the bad guys, then that'll mean I get more free time. We get more free time," he corrected, lazily draping an arm over her shoulder.
Her slightly panicked look did not discourage him. Rik instantly ordered him to keep his paws to himself, and Rita thought she heard a growl from Jared.
"What does Rashel think of this tactic, which, incidentally, might put me in danger?"
"They don't know," Jared mumbled, who looked none too pleased with the idea. Verity tilted her head closer.
"What was that? They don't know? Kyros Snow, Rik Pinesworth, Jared Luna, I'm very disappointed in you," she reprimanded sternly, her face of motherly gravity. "I would have never expected you of mutiny, especially with so many lives at stake."
"It's not mutiny," Kyros objected defensively. "It's just…secretly helping the leader in a way they haven't thought of yet." Verity, for the spiteful sake of seeing him squirm, stubbornly maintained the admonishing expression. "Well, fuck, Rita," he exclaimed desperately, "this is the stupidest mission ever. Just sitting around trying to interrogate the Night World without any form of torture. It's about damn time somebody did something before your class combusts!"
"But isn't there are reason your leaders haven't thought of—"
"Or approved of," Jared interrupted. "Yes there's a reason. It would put you in danger. You know," he added, lowering his voice as if the other two had disappeared, "You can refuse if you want. You don't have to do this, not if you're really uncomfortable with it." Concern was etched in his adorable face. Kyros and Rik glared pointedly for his worrisome comments.
Rita smiled and consented. That part where Kyros mentioned of staying after the mission disturbed her, but undoubtedly they'd find no reason to stay. Nothing exciting ever happened in Anomina.
~*~*~*~
Rita instantly jumped at the sound of her name…or rather, technically, not her name. She had been too busy watching her breath evaporate in the cold air, and thinking about how to execute yesterday's plan. Kyros had put it so easily, "get to the root of the problem," but how? She could hardly imagine going up to her soul mate, batting her eye lashes, and asking, "Hey, these people who are messing up my life need to know how and when you're going to kill my townspeople, so can you please tell me?" Success would be highly unlikely.
She had been standing in the green house, or rather lack thereof—a mere black plastic tarp of a roof, with only a few poles to support it. Not a single wall, for money went to the darn drama club this year—on the roof when he came. It wasn't his particular identity that startled her, or so she told herself, it was the fact that anybody else had arrived. Nobody came to the green house this early in the morning, before school started.
"Tana," he repeated, with faint relief in his voice. Rita turned towards him and leaned on one of the architectural poles, green eyes wary of his every move.
"Amaro," she returned, voice as cold as the season. "What are you doing here?" All right, not the ideal way to start and interrogation, but she wanted to know any way.
After some hesitation, he answered slowly, "I was looking for you. I figured we needed to talk."
"Why?" Rita, for the first time, managed mask her emotions. Instead of showing her surprise at his comment, Rita frowned icily. This wasn't right. He was supposed give an evil laugh and then try to sweep her off her feet in the same manner Hades tried to win Persephone. Brute stupid force; not talking it out.
"Because," Adrian replied, annoyed, blue eyes darkening, "I think you are painting yourself as an innocent victim. And that, my dear, is the wrong color."
She immediately tensed when he took two steps closer. Rita had never really seen him in this way. First of all, he wasn't wearing that scowl or arrogant smile, nor was he in a fighting stance. Gone were the dark clothes, instead he wore khakis and a white polo shirt. Something rectangular rested in one of his pockets. Distractedly, Verity thought she saw it before…but that wasn't the point. The point was that Adrian Amaro, her ex-husband and future mass murderer, was trying to be normal. Abnormally normal. And he just stood there, in the sunlight—which, she thought, wasn't the villain's natural backdrop—earnestly watching her expression.
"Of course it is! You hurt me, on purpose. You betrayed me. You neglected me. I was your soul mate and you treated me like you treated your horses." With taut fury, she closed the distance between them. His unmoved expression drove her into hotter anger.
"I see you've been remembering some of our marriage. And I'm glad of that, but I'm disappointed to see that you insist on remembering the bad parts."
"There were never any good parts," she hissed viciously. Dark tendrils threatened to slip from the bun, and her green eyes burned with instinctive hatred behind the glasses Bryan had bought as a favor. "My decision to marry you is probably the reason my life is like it is today. Stupidity is always punished."
He diplomatically chose to ignore the last comment. Instead he said, striving for lightness, "I assure you, my dear, there were many. Do you need help…?" Rita shook her head, suddenly confused by his easy manner. Why wasn't he frowning at her? She had deliberately thrown an insult at him and…and he smiles?
"Scared?" And now his voice was teasing. Gitana, Verity knew, hadn't seen this side of him often. Insulting, yes, teasing playfully? Big no. After all, the man hadn't used charm to strong arm the naïve little gypsy into marriage. And there was no need to woo after the condemning ceremony. Oh dear, she thought with apparent alarm, Adrian Amaro is actually trying to flirt. But, as she had no experience, Verity was not one to judge if he was very skilled at it. She shook her head again, and wondered if her brain would become too rattled for school at the end of this conversation.
"All right," he conceded easily, "you're not scared. You're just worried that, if Bryan gets word of this little tete a tete, you'll get into trouble."
Was her store brand cereal tainted with hallucinogenic, or did Adrian just grin at her? Perhaps he was trying to get information out of her again. Skin to skin contact would be the ideal way to weasel it out of her. But then again…
"Fine," she consented, unknowingly failing to hide her ulterior motives from her expressions. Verity pulled off her gloves and held out her exposed hand in the frigid New England air. "You take my hand," she prompted when he simply stood and stared. And then he moved to her.
Not to take her hand, however. Before she could jump back, he had her lips trapped against his.
~*~*~*~
"Have you seen Rita this morning?" Jared stiffened at the sound of the normally cocky voice and glanced at the new windowpane of the back passenger seat. Yup. The carrot topped bastard.
"It's eight o'clock in the morning," he muttered as he locked the Yota. Jared sauntered towards the school. "Why the hell would Rita come to the apartment before school started?"
Kyros shrugged, uncomfortable with asking this unexpected competition. He had stopped by the Glisscielle residence, and then checked every meeting room of all her possible extracurricular activities. But the Beta Club class room had been empty, the library was missing the very tutor he needed, and the Math Team was sadly lacking their most important member. As much as he'd hate to admit it, Kyros was worried. Worried and extremely displeased. The girl evidently enjoyed Bryan and Jared's company, and now she was neglecting her duties and himself. Pitiful way to treat a guy who had been so nice to her.
"I don't know. I just need to talk to her," he replied curtly, following the werewolf to the school entrance. Jared eyed him suspiciously.
"Any message you have to give her you can give to me…She wanted to talk to me before chem." All right, so it was a lie. But Jared felt this damn fur ball needed to know where he stood concerning Rita. Jared felt he was very close to her, whereas Kyros was on another planet in the galaxy of Closet Cases.
"Liar," Kyros jeered immediately. "She doesn't want to talk to you any more than she wants to talk to me." He then paused, realizing he had just insulted himself. "And stop trying to protect her from the rest of us, or lie about where she is."
Jared stopped in his tracks. The cars, full of students and faculty, angrily drove their way around them. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean," Kyros ground out, frowning with irrational anger. "Taking her away before school ended. Skipping really, which would have ruined her record. If you hadn't done that, she would have never have cut herself."
"And if your damn daybreakers had done your job and protected her, she wouldn't have come to me in search of help."
"We're here on an investigation, not serving as body guards. Besides, Rita's become a colleague now, she can protect herself." Inwardly, Kyros believed it was the stupidest and weakest argument in the history of arguments, but it shook Jared anyway.
"Then why did she come to me?"
Kyros shrugged. "Momentary lapse of sanity, I guess."
"And what's so important that you can't tell me to tell her? We're all involved in this 'mutiny,' you know, not just you and her. Whatever concerns her in our mission, concerns me too." Jared's normally boyish face was set in harsh, stubborn lines. Had not Kyros been made of sterner stuff, he would have stepped back from the wolf's raw anger towards him.
"And what if it's personal? Private, and for her ears only?" Kyros challenged, drawing himself to full height so that he could tower a mere few inches over his adversary. The Arctic fox felt he needed every advantage, for the werewolf's strong affections had shaken his resolve. He had no idea Jared felt such solid emotions for a girl he had known for a few weeks. Actually, he didn't know the damn dog was even capable of emotions outside hunger and the desire for sleep.
Jared himself only had a vague notion of why the girl in question meant so much. He wasn't one to question a good thing. Maybe it was because she hadn't talked down to him; at least, not any more. She wasn't stupid, flaky, or irritatingly optimistic. For some reason, she had the same mantra as he did. Take what life gives you and adapt to it. Granted, there were a dozen or more girls in Anomina with the same qualities, but they probably didn't have sporadic glimpse of innocent humor that Rita had. And that girl was so damn innocent sometimes he had to smile. It would be a waste to have such a great girl hanging over the carrot topped retard in front of him.
Jared tensed, so much so that Kyros believed he saw veins straining in his neck. "Then you definitely can't talk to her."
"She'll talk to whoever she damn well pleases," he retorted.
A new voice coolly cut in, "Who just happens to be neither of you." Kyros winced and Jared looked behind him with eager hostility. Grasping at his usual jovial manner, Kyros turned to face Quinn, who stood in the middle of the other lane, creating his own little traffic problem for the prisoners of Anomina High.
Damn. Shit. Damn and shit and everything else that's god awful. Even as the negative thoughts ran through Kyros' mind, he managed to maintain the devil may care grin. "Quinn! How ya doin'? Great weather today, huh? Good thing we have anti freeze for blood-"
"Describe the mutiny," Quinn interrupted in a hard voice. Kyros noticed he had crossed his arms and there was a little amused smirk on the vampire's lips. But, of course, he was not amused. The fox guessed his boss was somewhere between pissed and pretty damn pissed. And that wasn't a good range.
"Mutiny? Uh, well, it's this thing in Lit class. Very interesting, all about the ocean. Something along the lines of Gilligan gets tired of the Skipper's abuse and pulls a Lizzie Borden on the fearless crew…"
Jared stood behind the two, unsure of his next actions. This was purely Daybreaker business. Still, there might be the option of benefiting…
"Kyros came up with the idea of using Rita, a civilian, to get info from Amaro," he supplied evenly. "And Bryan, if possible. Both potential psychopathic serial killers. That's right; little innocent human dropped smack into danger just because Kyros didn't have enough faith in his leaders…"
By now Quinn had had enough. Kyros as a friend was fun and hilarious; but Kyros on this mission was irresponsible and dead weight. Thierry had made a mistake of letting the fox lead his own missions for the past year. "Snow," he said curtly over his shoulder as he walked to the school. "We have to talk."
That was it. Jared saw the four, monosyllabic words shatter Kyros. He almost felt guilty when he saw the fox's face melt into utter defeat. His eyes were panicked, then despairing, like a man on death row. Snow didn't even respond to Jared's gloating smile. He simply sagged his shoulders and followed the vampire as if he were going to face hell.
The werewolf reminded himself that Kyros Snow was just trouble, to him and to Rita. Bastards like Snow were all about fun, not even realizing the damage he'd do. Rita needed someone stable, someone who wouldn't leave town once his mission was over.
~*~*~*~
Prior Past
"Adrian?"
"Hmm?" was the drowsy reply.
"Do you know many different languages?"
Adrian sighed tiredly, tossed around, and propped himself on an elbow. Her question was irrelevant, and damned inconvenient when one was trying to sleep . But all his irritation vanished when he gazed down at her inquisitive, child like face resting in the moonlight. It wasn't her fault she had no sense of timing.
No sense of timing! Rita repeated, irritated. But Amaro didn't answer; he was preoccupied with something…
"Yes," he answered softly, his hand gently brushing the sable tendrils from her face. Her hair is always a mess, he noticed with some impatience.
"How many?"
Apprehension spread through Rita like the foreboding cracks veining on a frozen pond. She didn't want to see this memory, certainly not with his point of view, but she would have to endure it. She couldn't seem to break away…
Adrian shrugged as he lit a candle, the tiny flame revealing a young couple lying among a mess of sheets. "I don't know. Enough. Why?"
"Because when we were…during our…" Tana blushed, and bravely plowed on, "earlier, you said something I didn't understand. That is…shouted it, really…"
"During when?" Adrian asked, keeping a straight face. He knew very well when, hence the tangled bed sheets, but it was refreshing to see a woman blush out of sheer naïve embarrassment.
"It is nothing of importance," little Tana answered quickly. "But, I've noticed half the time I have no idea what you're saying. No hablas inglis, francas, alleman…"
"All right, I understand. What am I supposed to do, speak only espagnola?" She shrugged, some of her shoulder slipping out of the night gown. Adrian eyed the exposed area, hoping that the night gown would slip farther and only half listening to her response.
"I don't think there's anything wrong with it. Or, you could teach me some other language," she suggested brightly.
He shook his head, using one arm to pull her closer. "You're only half literate. Well I'll be damned, you're as light as a feather." Adrian observed this with some surprise, for he was certain all that dancing would have built some muscle.
" 'I'll be damned'," she repeated questioningly. He had been leaning down to kiss her when she asked, "What does that mean?"
"Nothing," he answered in English, the adorable confusion growing in her eyes. "Parce que, jamais tu ne parlerai les autres langues…" Adrian laughed aloud; Tana was past confusion and onto ignorant anger. "Ti amos, my little Tana."
Tana clearly had no clue as to what that meant, but the tenderness in his voice soothed any anger she had. Surely he hadn't said anything offensive with such a caressing look. Soon his lips matched his eyes, possessively claiming her own. As his hands gradually descended below her shoulders, Tana pulled away. As if she were suddenly aware of the hour, and his intentions. Unused to being rejected, Amaro coaxed her closer, his hand rubbing her waist patiently.
"Satine caloris tibi est?" Tana had no idea what the Latin words meant—or, for that matter, that they were Latin at all—but the meaning in his voice was embarrassingly understandable.
"Otro vez? Again?"
He grinned, murmured something about his "dushenka" and proceeded to dispel any thoughts of foreign languages.
~*~*~*~
Rita wondered if this was similar to an infant's ripping from the womb. She had been inside his mind, as unbelievable as that sounded. And now she was rudely torn from that dark cocoon and thrust into an awareness of her self. The softness of his hair under her hands. The warmth from his breath against her cheek. The sharp corner of the book, as she now learned, in his pocket against her thigh.
For a few moments, the cold was nothing to her, the green house smells sharpened, and the past was not a dark lurking nightmare but a fleeting delightful episode in a long, experienced life.
To her a painful marriage. To her Tana was a horrible weakling of a girl, who should not and would not ever resurface again.
To him a pleasant diversion that ended with human stupidity. To him Tana was a slow child, who could dance prettily and provide a few laughs.
Rita jerked her head back and away from his caressing lips. She dropped her arms, which had traitorously wrapped themselves around his neck. Her green eyes flamed with immediate fury; true she could not hide her feelings on her face, but Adrian would have preferred a cold, false mask than the angry and disgusted intensity she showed now.
"There was no need for a kiss." Her voice did not quake, and there was no flicker of pleasure in her hard emerald eyes. There was no sign of his little Tana anywhere. Tana would have never ended a kiss willingly.
"And, as for any change in my feelings towards you, that prelude to a porno did turn my opinion. My stomach, yes, but not opinion." Rita fully meant everything she said. She realized that Kyros' plan would fail if she continued, but her own safety was her first priority. And getting involved with Adrian Amaro was everything dangerous.
"Do not ever try that again. Ever," she emphasized when she saw him start. "If you do wish to contact me, you do so in a civilized, constrained manner. This is the twenty first century, by the way. Women don't swoon anymore if you force your attentions on them. We just make sure you don't do it again."
This was wrong. Adrian knew this wrong, all completely and utterly wrong. He kissed her, almost against his own will. But, unlike Tana, he felt more than light pleasure. There was fire, hot and challenging, spilling from her own lips that unconsciously responded to his own. Their connection was so strong the moment their mouths met that he could have sworn he had been electrocuted. And all she felt was disgust?
"There's no need to try to evoke and toy with my feelings for your own advantage because I have none for you. So, all your manipulations are pointless," she continued.
Verity saw him move towards her again, this time arms open in a gesture of exasperation. It was, unfortunately, the same time Morice Orin swaggered into the green house, only pausing with surprise at Rita's presence.
Through the black rims, Rita eyed him and then Adrian with chilly hauteur. "Looking for me, were you?" Morice grinned, for he mistook Adrian's gesture as an ardent one, and was pleased that this human of undiscovered curves suddenly found a liking to Night World men.
"Excuse me," she murmured coldly, sweeping past Morice and through the door. With an insolent stare, Morice frankly assessed her body as he allowed only the minimal amount of space for her exit. Once she was out of Amaro's view, but still close enough to hear, Orin let out an equally insolent whistle.
It was enough. "Damn, Orin could you stop being an ass for one second in your miserable life?" Adrian growled and roughly shoved him out of the way. He did not care that his friend had not expected the blow, and was now toppling over the edge. All that mattered was reaching that self righteous Verity Glisscielle in time to give her a piece of his mind.
"Rita," he called, catching her arm to face her towards him. Her eyes held a jungle of cold anger and some apprehension, ruining any intimidation she attempted earlier. The girl would never win at poker.
"All right, so maybe I was a little patronizing," he conceded roughly, "but don't you dare preach to me about manipulation. You did it all the time, and you're doing it now. Yes, you did," he repeated when she began to protest. "You drained sympathy from almost everyone in Morta Vitez, so that even my own friends turned against me. And now, you're playing the dog, the fox, and the leech against each other for your own purposes. Don't say a damn word about manipulating."
"They don't feel anything for me," she argued weakly, the increasing feeling of guilt causing her to flush.
"Of course not," he agreed in an ironic tone. "The sons of the New Night World Council always help a human without taking a bite. And workers for Circle Daybreak always plan their missions around indifferent, uncooperative little girls. Naturally."
His points all made cruel sense. Even if Bryan was a murderer, what was the use of helping a girl working for Circle Daybreak? For his logic alone, Rita's eyes flashed dangerously.
"Adrian Amaro," she began in a tremulous, but angry tone, "you know nothing of me, nor the people in my life. If you think that, because you're my soul mate, you understand my mind or my emotions, you're dead wrong. You've probably never experienced the things I have in your long, decadent history."
"You have no idea what you're up against. Hell, I have no idea what I'm up against…"
"Being my soul mate doesn't automatically mean you get a say in my decisions. I know what I have to do, and I always have. You and your little pieces of advice do nothing but get in my way."
"Gitana Amaro—"
"It's Verity!" Rita almost stamped her foot in frustration. "If you half as wise as you claim you are, you should at least get my name right!" And with that calm exclamation, she turned on her heel and walked briskly away, muttering, "Idiot," under her breath.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rita saw the man was actually wounded by her little insult. Goodness gracious, she thought in exasperation. "Listen," she began evenly and squared her shoulders. "Don't take this personally. I know you're my soul mate and all. Somewhat important," she added. Winnie had told her that finding your soul mate was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity but…she had a lot of lifetimes ahead of her. "But you're also in the way. Timing's all wrong, you see? It's sort of my senior year and now these visitors…well, you'd never understand. You should have come during the summer vacation. Or spring break. We would have time for counseling then."
With a cursory shrug, Rita turned away and made her way down the stair well. She ignored the cumbersome weight of guilt in her stomach and made a mental note to report to the Daybreakers that she had felt some peculiar bumps on Amaro's head. Plus that possibly informative book in his pocket. Explaining that she made these discoveries during a kiss was going to be difficult.
~*~*~*~
war in which you sleep with the enemy"
Unknown
Hilo. Some of you may find Mrs. Fullion a little hard to believe, but try. Personal experience. Biology teacher. Ever notice how I only name the common knowledge plants? Sad results of inebriated educating. Needless to say, she was discreetly fired. All very hush-hush. But I thought she would be an interesting character. Any who, I'd like to know what you think about this one. Please review—I've stopped promising adoration for forever. Just a few years at the longest.