Neona-deniker: Ha-ha, write an extra long review, and ye shall receive an extra long response. Man, I will feel so stupid if you don't even read this. Right, on with the responses:
You've been waiting since Frozen Fire?! One, that surprises me because it was posted forever ago. And B, that surprises me because I'm sort of detesting it for my own, private, personal reasons. But, gee, I'm flattered that you're all extra dedicated. You know, so many people have called me "devil" lately…I wonder if I should take that as a hint…but they say cute devil so I won't worry.
Thoughts on your Thoughts on the Story: I know it was predictable. Things would be so much easier if there were more than four main species (and their descendants) in the Night World. Of course I contemplated making a hybrid, but then I realized that there are a lot of a hybrid fics out there. Kiana's done an awe-inspiring job with that, so I won't even try. I'll explain the wooden branch in this chapter. Ha, Rik hitting really hard—funny concept, even if it isn't realistic. Drache heir…too complicated, and I'm too lazy to go down that shady path. I mean, I'm sure the Drache ancestors and the Amaro ancestors must have chilled together back in the day, but that's about it.
Sorry about Kyros. I didn't get to really develop his character in FF, but I don't really see how he's changed—still virile as ever. And, as you've seen in Frozen Fire, he's been on a few independent missions, and a little impatient with the progress. Basically, yup he's in the way, romantically and mission-ly. So you, like many, have fallen under the spell of Jared; and he doesn't even try. About the party, Jared's moody like that. Ever known a boy who's on a male PMS roller coaster twenty four/seven? That's Jared, except Rita's a little cure for that. MAYBE I'll add something later.
About Soulmates: Ian won't be changing and Rita won't be changing. They'll learn a few things, but (and this is one reason why I don't like Frozen Fire) he won't start bursting into love songs or dissolve in self-disgust.
I like picking the small original characters and giving them their own personality; I would have done Nissa, but, well…she's dead. Not much to work with, is there? And, jeez, Apollo? I'm sorta with Maria on that—I detest that brat. Some may fall for his whole angel-innocent-cherub thing, but did you see how candy greedy he was at Delos' party? Not to mention that whole sexually harassing pregnant women habit. No, no, I'm putting my foot down. No more Apollo…well, maybe later, but only MAYBE. Er, yes, that whole Maria pregnancy situation…there is a purpose. Purpose, purpose, purpose…just a fair warning so you won't acquire murderous intentions to me later on in the story. Right, okay, so Kyros, Winnie, Fayth annoy you…and yet nothing of Bryan—who is a blip, but a rather selfish blip if you ask me.
See, I had a feeling that some might be taken off guard by Rita's change. Before I edited the first chapter, I had more of Rita's interactions at school, illustrating the contrast between home and school Rita. But then I realized that chapter one was forever long and that some of Rita's I-am-woman-hear-me-roar-while-I-maintain-polite-smile stuff had to be cut out. Maybe I should have left it in, considering the responses, but it's too late right? This isn't a DVD, I can't add deleted scenes and alternate endings. Now, proper talking…don't really keep that in mind when I'm writing dialogue. I wrote "prim" in summary because "frigidly responsible and somewhat bitchy" girl took up too much room. Okay, that may not be accurate, and neither is "prim," but she does have rather high standards for people. :0) I can't help it with the proper writing but improper dialogue. I've been preping for the SAT's, so a bunch of insensibly big words have been getting stuck in the head—they have to go somewhere, right? And, seeing how I won't be using "verisimilitude" in my school conversations, why not burden them on the nice people who read my stories? My theory, any way.
Again, I feel incredibly dumb if I wrote this extra long response and you don't read it—but hey it was fun to write. Wow, was that long! Bye!!
Martha: Hey, I know, I know, almost nobody does. But, it's not like she's ready to go house shopping with him. One kiss, and she didn't even like it! So, calm down, we're not having any Adrian/Rita fluffiness. Bye!
Skylark: Short and sweet, right? Hee-hee, short or not, I'm glad you reviewed. I like hearing from the same reviewers, although the new ones are cool too…stopping before I put my foot in my mouth. Thanx!
Zabella: Hello, cool name. Very glad that you like it…I wasn't aware that I made her stronger in the later chapters, but oh well! Kudos to me! Any who, also glad that you think the characters are interesting. And, gee, I feel special because you gave more than one review. That's so sweet!
Person with no name: Wow, I must have a certain charm for people with no name. Hello anonymous reviewer and thank you for the encouragement!! Hope (if you're reading) that you'll like this chapter…though I doubt it…
Vague Verity
Chapter 6
"Kinde pitty chokes my spleene; brave scorn forbids
Those teares to issue which swell my eye-lids;
~*~*~*~
This was just plain wrong. He allowed her to visit his school, used his powers of persuasion to get her a visitor pass, and then she abandoned him. Women.
Rik was watching Fayth with a stormy look as she flirted with two vampires by their lockers, only thirty feet away from him. He thought it was very mean for her to flaunt like that. All right, so she was only trying to get information by playing dumb blonde. The vampires, after all, were relatively new to Anomina, and were not informed of Fayth's Daybreak status. But still, he pettishly believed, there was no need to stand so close.
"Rik," he heard a female voice call softly. He turned to his left, and met a pair of dark green eyes, framed by the most sensible pair of glasses he'd ever seen. Rita.
"Hello," he responded faintly, eyes narrowing when Fayth playfully slapped one boy's arm.
"What does it mean if a guy has bumps on his head? Displaced mumps, or did a cartoon mouse drop anvils on it?"
Rik could finally concentrate on Rita's words once Fayth, finding no information, apathetically shoved both boys aside and rolled her eyes at their invitations. "What? Bumps? Who?"
"Yes, bumps," Rita repeated, somewhat impatiently. "Adrian Amaro. He has little bumps on his head, near his forehead. I felt them. There was also a book, maybe a day planner, in his pock—"
"How many?"
"Um…four? No, three, the other bump I felt must have been his ear."
Rik's shoulders sagged considerably, as if the number helped the situation. Still, the depression lingered. After he had asked her if she was sure, and she had confirmed it, his expression became even more troubled. By the time Fayth reached them, Rita was asking whether he had indigestion and if she should summon the school nurse.
"What's the matter?" the Daybreak agent asked, concerned. Rik gave an apologetic smile.
"You know how you were saying this mission couldn't possible get more difficult?" Fayth nodded, apprehension clouding her expression. "Well, you now have a dragon on your hands. Explains why my whack with the tree branch didn't put him in a coma." Fayth swore loudly, while Rita looked confusedly around the hall way.
"Where?" she asked candidly, eyes showing green puzzlement.
"Your damn soul mate," Fayth answered brusquely, deeply troubled. "How many horns?"
Verity tried to remember what she had learned about the species. Dragon. "Now there's something I'd like to be."
"Rita says three, if that helps any," Rik supplied hopefully. "At least it's not five. Weaker than most—remember, out cold with one measly little stick—"
"No it doesn't help any," she snapped. "Listen, I know you hate doing work but send everybody a mental memo to meet me at the nature center as soon as possible. We have to rework this, now. Goddess, I have to call Keller…" she muttered as she walked away, without waiting for Rik's consent. He shrugged at Rita with a small smile, and followed suit. As he did so, the fluorescent lights slightly outlined the shape of his gun in his side pocket. Much good that'd do him now, Rita thought, now that she knew it was a dragon. Nobody ever needed fire arms in school, Night World or no.
~*~*~*~
New York, New York
God, how did this all start? When she threw the pencil? When he woke up in her bed, bandaged and bombarded with apologies? Or did it all start when he gave her a forgiving kiss that led to another and then another…until they forgot what they ever fought over? She usually stopped him. Maria was a virgin, he wasn't. There were rules with that sort of thing. But she forgot the rules. He didn't; he just ignored them.
So it was really all his fault, Valdis rationalized. It would have been unfair to punish her in losing the baby just because he was selfish that night. It was his job to protect Maria, not hurt her.
When she was fully awake, Maria was aware of two iron bars pinning her down. She couldn't toss, turn, or stretch. To her left was a board that couldn't be pushed away. It took her a few moments to realize that the bars were her soul mate's arms. The board was his chest.
"Hey," she protested sleepily. "You're not supposed to be here. I'm angry at you. You have your own room," she yawned as she snuggled closer. Valdis pulled her into a tighter embrace. "And you're not allowed to sleep in my room. That's why the door was locked," she mumbled, eyes threatening to close again.
He knew that, which was why he picked it open. He also knew that Maria was the most stubborn person in the world and the only way to persuade her away from an already made decision was while she was sleepy. Or drunk. Seeing as the latter wouldn't happen, Valdis decided waking her three hours earlier than normal would do the trick.
"Maria," he murmured, gently shaking her awake. "Maria, I've been thinking about the baby."
"Mmm-hmm…"
"I realize now that we can't kill it. That would be homicide. And between you and me, we've killed enough people."
"Yeah," she yawned again, wiggling deeper under the blanket. Need warmth. Warmth good. Something cool slipped over her fourth finger on her left hand.
"But, if we're going to keep it, you're going to have to be more careful. I've had some bad luck with keeping wives alive."
"Aaalll righty then," she agreed, absently trying to pry off his arms from her waist. That thing on her finger…a ring?…scratched his shirtless chest. He still didn't move. "Jesus, do you implant steel in your arms or something? Move already!"
"So that means that there are going to be some changes. Got it?"
"Get it, got it, good. Go away. I'm sleeping." Instead he kissed her. She responded sleepily to his persistent lips until she was fully awake. "Valdis, now I'll never get to sleep!" she whined. Maria looked around for her dog. "Ceberus," she ordered, "attack him. Go ahead, attack!" Instead her protector merely stared at the hand that pointed at smirking Valdis. "You got me a defective dog," she complained as she scrambled out of bed.
"The hell I did," he retorted. "You've been feeding him your vitamins, which, by the way, you will be taking yourself from now on." His soul mate merely rolled her eyes and headed for the shower.
~*~*~*~
Anomina, Massachusetts
Faced with the final, "secret" ultimatum, their health teacher finally showed that she did, in fact, get a degree in education. Rita's hand ached with taking so many notes. Her class mates groaned as transparency after transparency were lined up on the over head. Kyros was nowhere to be found. Neither was Rik, and Jared had been called to an administrator for skipping school. And a disruptive student from the class next door had taken the seat behind her, snoring loudly.
That left one person of her acquaintance sitting near her. Not the ideal note taking buddy.
Rita looked up from her scribble filled page to find a folded piece of paper sitting on her desk. She opened the note and read:
So are you still mad at me?
Rita sighed at the immature mode of communication. The paper was obviously aged, coarse and yellowed. Curiously enough, it looked as if it would fit in the—or what she thought was—day planner in his pocket.
What do you think?
She carelessly threw the paper on his desk. A few moments later, he responded.
Well, one second you're ready to strangle me (impossible) and the next you don't care if I fall off the face of the earth.
Spheres don't have faces. That's why it's a sphere. But wait, isn't the earth egg shaped? Either way, no faces.
Gitana Rita, seriously. You run hot, then cold, then lukewarm. If you're going to pick an emotion with me, stick to it so I know how to handle it.
Which, Verity noticed, showed how little he knew of women. No woman, old soul or not, could ever choose an emotion and "stick to it." It was like asking a man color coordinate his notebooks to his shoes.
Let me assure you right now, any emotion I'd have towards you wouldn't make you feel better. And that's why you're writing right now. To make yourself feel better. Having guilt is annoying, isn't it?
If you're still ready to strangle me, at least that means you acknowledge my existence. What guilt?
Besides the obvious?
If it was obvious, would I be asking?
Adrian. You promised her forever and gave five months. Someone did something wrong in that marriage, and hint: it wasn't Gitana.
So you're not mad that I hurt you, just that I neglected my vows.
Aside from the fact that hurting was neglecting your vows, not really. Husbands hitting their wives was an accepted thing back then. Gitana was just a little bit sheltered.
I know.
I know you know. Why did you write me, again?
I suppose to see if there was a chance.
If you start singing "Reunited, and it feels so good," I will hurt you.
Gitana Rita, seriously. Is there?
Look you can't even let go of her. You didn't love her, but you still can't let go. I'm so far from Gitana's personality of course there's no chance.
Rita heard him heave a burdened sigh as he read her response.
Let me try to put this in your terms, Miss Literary Club founder. You're the heroine. I'm the dynamic character. You know, changes dramatically in the end.
I know what a dynamic character is. And you're not one. You're a foil to someone.
To who? There's no Charles Darnay around. ATOTC, you know.
Don't get that patronizing tone of writing with me. I've read Dickens you know, I have most of his novels.
I know.
Rita stared at that one sentenced, not fully comprehending. True he had been in her house, in her library, once before. But her Dickens weren't in her library. She had packed all her Dickens books to make room for the satirists. They were sitting in a box in the basement. And she was sure he hadn't explored that part of the house, because he hadn't had time.
Although that last statement disturbs me, I'm going to ignore it. You're a foil to…Jared.
I don't believe that.
Oh dear, you don't believe me. Gee, my life has no meaning now that my soul mate doesn't trust me.
Even foil characters can be dynamic. Carton did.
Towards the end. This isn't the end.
When, exactly then, is the end? Should I schedule it?
Rita saw that, fittingly, her sarcasm was rewarded with sarcasm.
The end is when you get your head chopped off by the guillotine. Maybe I'll name my kid after you.
Seriously, why?
Just because. She paused, unsure of her response. Then Rita decided honesty would be the best policy. I think it might hurt to be with you.
Why? You're older now, I know that. You said you don't hold a grudge about the past.
I don't know anything about you. The little I do know makes me I wish I didn't know you altogether. Understand?
Why?
Amaro. Ever wonder why we can't think to each other any more? Come on, think really hard…
Because it's weaker now?
Good job. It's some sort of sign, Adrian. Maybe we're really not meant to be together.
And yet you are so stubborn to explore that "maybe." Why?
Because to be with you would make me remember. And I want to stop remembering
Why?
Why do you keep asking? You didn't come here to find me any way. You're here on business. Business that would probably clash with any relationship (impossible) that we'd have.
I've been here on business before. Everything went smoothly.
Rita glanced at Amaro sharply. For some reason, the words were familiar. But not something that Gitana Benevita heard. Rita shook off the fuzzy memories.
Do you want a certificate? Here.
Adrian Amaro
Best Business Man & Worst Husband
Signed by Verity Glisscielle
You're hilarious. Rita could almost hear the sarcasm in the words scrawled on the piece of paper.
The dismissal bell rang, and as Rita filed out of the class room with Bryan by her side, she idly threw away the piece of paper. No need for evidence.
With special permission from the principal, Rita missed her student's aide's session to oversee design proposal in the gym. It seemed that all the committee members had their vision of what the Soiree should be, but Rita alone had to decide. The smell of sweat and stale popcorn greeted her as she entered the gym. The bleachers were conveniently pulled out, and as Rita sat on the first bench and shuffled through the ideas, Rik sauntered up to sit next to her.
They watched the last basket ball players struggle and finally give up their game. The entire gym was empty, leaving litter and echoes behind.
"So what happened at the meeting?" she asked finally.
"Fayth called Keller, being the only one to kill a dragon without Wild Power…power. And Keller, who by the way has a toddler so might not be totally sane, said that we'd probably need a shifter. I'd call that damn, irrational shifter pride. We have two vampires here and we need a shifter?"
"Kyros?" Rita asked as Rik leafed through her papers.
"He and Quinn were preoccupied. But a fox against a dragon? I don't like the odds. Oh come on," he laughed, pausing at Samantha Rochert's idea. "If we have a Survivor themed Soiree, I'm going to impeach you."
"It beats the Flintstones," Jared retorted from the far end of the basket ball courts. Not liking the time it would take to walk to them, Jared became not Jared. Rita watched amazed as a mahogany colored wolf sped towards them, stopping mere inches away from Rik's foot.
"Quit showin' off, jack ass," Rik said, annoyed. Jared's response was a punch on the arm.
There was some time of reviewing all suggestions and laughing at half of them. Jared suggested an "Mountain Woods" theme, but the idea was rejected. He had no idea how much a huge, artificial forest would cost.
"Rik?" Rita asked after some time, "How do you kill a dragon?"
Vampire and werewolf exchanged uneasy looks. It wasn't normal to see a girl so calm about killing off her soul mate. "You cut off his horns," he finally answered.
"And he dies?"
Jared shook his head. "You make it possible for him to die. It's like…taking Batman's utility belt away so you could beat his molesting ass."
"Who'd he molest?" Rik asked, curious.
"Duh, man, Robin. No teenage guy wears spandex unless he's persuaded into it."
Rita looked from one handsome face to another. How could boys sit there, talking about comic book heroes as if they were discussing world events?
"Hello! I thought we were discussing Anomina's potential unibomber."
"Oh yeah," Jared exclaimed and Rik laughed aloud.
"Don't worry about it. We've eliminated unibombers before. Everything went smoothly."
Rita frowned. That was what Adrian wrote. And somebody else…Adrian, but not Adrian?… said before. Why on earth was that so familiar?
All three heads snapped up at the sound of the door closing. Rita felt the boys beside her tense. Rik, to her right, even stood up, acting as if he were ready to pounce on the dragon.
Adrian Amaro was swaggering in. There was an unbelievably arrogant smile on his face. He stopped short ten feet away from them. Rita had seen that smile before, but not on Adrian.
"Hi Rita," his nearly black eyes focusing on her alone. "Has anybody called you Ritz?"
No.
Fucking.
Way.
Adrian's smile widened at her apparent recognition.
Mother, Oscar isn't short. He's tall and he's my soul mate. Rita remembered the note from last period.
Adrian's mind followed her own. "That's right. Everything went smoothly. Best Businessman, after all."
Rita felt two pairs of eyes turn to her questioningly. Unaware of her actions, she stood and slowly stood closer to the vampire. Her green eyes searched Adrian's face. It couldn't be. There was no way. It made no sense.
"Rita?" Verity turned to the new voice, and for a moment the world got even more confusing. There were two Adrians. One was standing ahead of her, another was at the door. But then she blinked. And the world made sense again. Did Rik see that?
Because it wasn't Adrian at the door. It was Ophelia. Adrian was standing in front of her, still smiling. He shouldn't have been smiling. After all, Melissa couldn't smile any more.
"You son of a bitch," Rita growled slowly, making sure he understood every word. And before Rik or Jared could respond to her inexplicable swearing, Rita grabbed Rik's gun from his pocket.
"You god damn…"
Rita had no idea how to handle a gun. But she was always a fast learner.
"Little…"
It took a lot more force than she expected to pull the trigger. But she did it. Adrian's body jerked once. Anger gave her the strength of a million men, but the rational thinking of none.
"Bastard." She shot him again, this time the bullet went straight into the neck.
"How dare you…" Verity thundered, still advancing, still shooting so that nobody could hear over the firing…
Adrian was still standing. He shouldn't have been standing. Melissa couldn't stand without some help.
"Hurt"
Bang.
"My"
Bang.
"Sister." Bang, Bang, Bang. Three bangs meant she had to take care of her sister. And she did. She did.
~*~*~*~
Jared had never been shocked in his entire life. But this time he was.
Verity Glisscielle just shot her soul mate with regular old bullets. The soul mate was lying on the ground. Or rather, Jared thought that the soul mate was lying on the ground. Because in an instant, the body and blood disappeared. Neither Rik nor Rita noticed.
Jared had never been afraid in his entire life. Again, this time he was.
Verity Glisscielle wasn't insane. Overachieving, yes. Stressed, naturally. But she wasn't insane, because Jared had already pegged her as the most sensible girl he had ever met. And he usually wasn't wrong with first impressions.
So why was the most sensible girl standing there with maniacal fury written all over her face? Her chest was heaving, legs wobbling as if she couldn't stand any more. She simply stayed there. With a look in her emerald eyes that scared Jared shitless.
Even Rik was hesitant to approach her. But the vampire did, Jared had to applaud his best friend for that. When Rik laid his hand on her shoulder, Jared held his breath and wondered if the girl would chew it off like a rabid animal. Instead, Rita sighed, looking more confused than he felt. She dropped the gun.
He heard sniffling from where he sat. Rita was crying. Why? Did the mention of Nabisco snacks always throw the girl in a psychological loop? What happened if they mentioned cereals?
Unsure of what to do, Rik awkwardly pulled Rita in an embrace. "What are you supposed to do, Rik?" Jared heard her say softly. "What are you supposed to do when the one who was supposed to save you…turns out to be the one who put you in distress?"
It sounded as if Verity needed a break, Jared decided. That's what happened to over achievers, having break downs like that. Like Mariah Carey. Rik agreed and allowed Jared to drive her home.
~*~*~*~
Jared even tucked her into bed. Rita giggled in her dark room as he did so, probably increasing his worry for her. She hadn't been tucked into bed in a long time. The werewolf tucked in the blankets nonchalantly, though, as if the recent events hadn't disturbed him at all.
"Jared?"
His deep chocolate eyes flickered up as he fluffed her pillows. It wasn't a gesture of thoughtfulness; it was just that he had tucked her in a little tightly. Almost as if he didn't want her to get out.
Rita envied him. His state of mind, or lack thereof, that was so relaxed. She was jealous of a boy who, presently, had no hope of graduating high school. "Jared? Are you ever bothered by anything?"
"Well," he sighed as he sat on her bed, "Quinn's been bugging me about the money I owe him—"
"No," she shook her head. "But really bothered. Troubled for years on end. You're so—so accepting of everything—"
"Aren't you?" he parried, visibly tensing.
"I accept things," she admitted. "But I don't settle. You seem to." He shrugged and rose, heading for the door.
"I guess," he confessed as he paused at the door way, almost completely introverted, "that you just learn to settle. I didn't get everything my way. My family went one way on the Battle, I went the other. I have an apartment, my freedom, and my car; I settled for that."
"So…" she said as she struggled to turn to him. Her blanket might as well have been a straight jacket. "You gave up a happy ending to get what you have now?"
Jared, being Jared, swiftly left the excursion into his past. Another curt shrug. "Rik's almost a brother any way. Sleep in tomorrow, okay Rita? I'll take care of it." She didn't even hear his footsteps as he left.
Rita reviewed.
Four years ago, a drug dealer had influenced her sister. And then got her into a car accident. Melissa Glisscielle was permanently affected, while the drug dealer died.
And that was a wrong words; died. Very, very, very wrong word.
Just before Christmas, the drug dealer reappeared then. Except he wasn't Oscar any more, he was Adrian Amaro. Here on secret business, and also to woo his former wife and current soul mate.
Why did Adrian get hurt? Her curious mind persisted. He had been shot before, but didn't fall. Rita had asked Jared this as he tucked the blankets around her, but he merely shrugged. The werewolf had no idea.
The positive aspects of this situation were this: some new friends. The negative aspects were this: those same new friends. They made her laugh, that was true. But it just seemed that, ever since the Daybreakers came and Rik and Jared finally noticed her, nothing but trouble had ensued.
It wasn't their fault, she knew that now. But they would go away eventually, or the relationship would change. Or she would die and go live in another life, where comforting stolid Jared didn't live. Everything changed. The only person to count on was yourself.
Jared was sweet. But how long would he stay that way? Or Bryan for that matter. No, tomorrow she wouldn't sleep the whole day through. She had responsibilities to take care of. People to confront.
~*~*~*~
So Verity went to school. She skipped the class in which she saw him. Rik, when passing her the hallway, had said he survived. Of course he did, she returned, he's a dragon. And Ophelia didn't remember anything, he had added.
The town square was just large enough for a fair. Rita surveyed the size, just ten minutes after school ended. There were a thousand students at her school, so three bucks a head would cover the last minute splurge her team had idiotically committed. Without her permission.
"Let's see…booths from last years play. Costumes from last year's play. Thank god for Carousel." This way the cost would be much lower than profit. Her committee would pay for their little shopping spree by "volunteering" as the booth operators. She turned at the sound of her name, and saw Ophelia running up to meet her. Out of breath, the chubby girl stood there panting for a few moments until she began.
"Hi! I just…needed…to…ask you a favor," she panted out. Rita smiled and nodded for her to continue. "Can you get me on Student Council?"
"It's a little late," Rita explained reluctantly.
"I know, I know. But I just found out I can't get into French Club because I don't take a French class any more. And my dad says I need an extracurricular activity for college applications. Please," she pleaded. Ophelia attempted a sad puppy face, only succeeding in making her look like a pitiful Cabbage Patch doll. But Rita commiserated, understanding the pressure of college.
"All right," she conceded. "You can start by typing up a memo to the other members. Write this down," she instructed, handing over the clipboard. "Fair on Olde Town Square. This weekend. You're the volunteers. Three bucks a ticket. Don't worry," Rita assured at Ophelia's stricken face, "you don't have to if you don't want to."
Idly they began walking the perimeter of the square. Rita informed the new girl of the historical facts of each store, the old water pump, and the old town hall. A frozen slice of Americana, as Bryan called it. Ophelia listened politely. Taking a sidelong glance at her new acquaintance, Rita contemplated her next decision. This was her only, normal, human friend. "Normal" being the ideal word.
"Ophelia? Can I confide in you?"
The shorter girl was a bit surprised by the proposition. "Sure. But only if I can confide in you, too."
Rita nodded. "What do you think of a girl who would date a guy just to get information on him? As in, no real, fuzzy feelings for him?"
"Oh! Is this about Kelly and Anthony and Louise? Because I heard about that when Bob Steve told me—"
"No. This isn't about that. Just listen. She thought that he didn't like her like that, but it turns out that he does, so now everything's complicated… Well, what should she do?"
Ophelia rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "She should try to like the guy first. Then, if she doesn't like him, tell him. That way she gets a clear conscience. There! Bow to the goddess of good advice," she giggled. Rita even giggled herself. She never giggled. Maybe being this friendship was a good idea after all.
But the confiding session was cut short when Bryan's Land Cruiser arrived. With a quick goodbye, Rita settled next to Bryan, taking his offered jacket as they drove away. So she'd try to like Bryan. That was that. The Goddess of good advice said so.
~*~*~*~
Rashel encountered Kyros as he left the apartment. He didn't even vouchsafe a smart ass grin. Instead he threw her a guilty, shamed look and walked away. Confused, she entered Fayth's apartment to find an equally guilty look on her soul mate's handsome face.
"What happened? Where's Kyros going? Why weren't you two at school?"
Quinn groaned, sounding much older and tired than he appeared to be. "We've…talked. Kyros has been plotting, Rashel. Using Rita, putting her in danger…all against our orders."
"What did you do?" Rashel demanded, her concern growing by the second.
"I know he's been on his own for a while. But he was under our leadership, this time, Rashel. He should have followed our rules."
"Kyros' life is the mission," Rashel murmured. "He told me that himself. He's got his bike, his family, and the mission. What did you do?"
"If his life is the mission, he should have followed the rules. Do you know what he's been saying about us? Explains why some people are so reluctant to cooperate with the 'incest' couple—"
"What. Did. You. Do?"
Quinn met Rashel's dark gaze with his own challenging stare. "Honorably discharged."
"Quinn!" Ouch. Quinn winced, for she hadn't used his Christian name. "This was our mission. Our agents. You don't go around discharging people without my permission!"
"I assumed you'd do the same thing," he replied curtly. Her voice became equally cold.
"You assumed wrong. He was our friend, Quinn."
"He made a mistake—"
"And if I do? Will you fire me too?" He shook his head. This wasn't how he pictured her reaction. Rashel shrugged, exasperated. "I'm going to go find him."
"Don't. You repeal my order, then you undermine my authority," he reasoned just as the phone rang. By the time he looked up from it, Rashel was gone. The phone call was from Boston.
~*~*~*~
She let the silence in the car stretch for too long. When she turned off the radio, Bryan hadn't said a word. He didn't ask, or look towards her. Instead he waited.
Rita took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. Hopefully expelling any nervousness. "Bryan…I've been using you." The vampire smiled and, as if he couldn't help it, laughed. Ignoring the sound, she continued, "We thought you had something to do with the upcoming potential massacre, so…well you know. Our rekindled friendship was just convenient, because you became a suspect and…I had to… find out."
He didn't smile now. Rita wondered vaguely if she just signed her own death certificate. "Is that why you came over the other night?" he asked in a hard voice, his pale face unreadable.
"No," she answered truthfully, staring down at her hands. "I was scared of Adrian. You were the only one I thought I could go to."
"To investigate?" he pushed. "To see if I had any TNT in my closet?"
Rita shook her head, shocked to feel tears in her eyes. Again, she didn't like this new feeling of letting people down. "No," she repeated, this time her voice was shaky. "I just thought…you were using me too. I didn't think you really liked me." Once said aloud, it didn't seem like a very good reason.
"Why not? I explained everything, Verity. I explained everything in the girl's bathroom." He shook his head, lips curled in disgust, as his eyes remained on the road. "I asked you because you weren't like them. And you knew about me and didn't freak out. I thought you were smarter than the rest."
"I'm sorry." Why did she think this was going to be easy? It was anything but. Before, ever since they were kids, he had accepted and forgiven her mistakes in a condescending sort of way. As if it wasn't her fault she wasn't as quick or strong or coordinated as he was. But they were all grown up now. "I thought you'd understand."
"Why? It's not everyday a human girl I'm actually interested in turns out to be as manipulative as my own species. Am I supposed to understand that?"
"No," she mumbled weakly. Her vision, filmed with tears, focused on the speedometer. Seventy and rising.
"And to think I was actually excited about the damn dance. I was going to pay for anything so you could go. The damn dress, the damn limo, the damn tickets… which, by the way, cost way too much this year. Tell your little committee that."
"Bryan…could you slow down please?"
"Rita. Think about it. My mom leaves me. My dad moves away without telling me, sending checks every month. My little sister tries to kill me weekly. Don't you think I'd have trust issues?"
"We're going at ninety, Bryan."
"And now, the one girl who I decide is great tells me that she's not so great. I think I deserve to go to ninety-five, dammit." He cursed again when his cell phone rang, thus ruining his angry rant. He only paused to answer and hang up.
"This is kinda fast…"
"I mean, come on! I had to get interested in you, you must have seen it coming. You were the closest thing I had to a childhood friend. You're so freakin' smart it's scary. I gotta say getting a vampire pissed isn't too bright, but props on bravery. You are one of the few people I know who won't let their sob story be a sob story. And what do I get? 'Bryan, I've been using you.'"
"Really fast…"
"Dammit," he yelled again, for "his" cell phone rang again. And again he picked it up only to press the end button. "Why the hell do people keep calling me? Maybe they need something from me. You did, why not everybody else?"
"Bryan, slow down immediately. A hundred isn't the ideal speed to be at when you are obviously furious." Her voice was so commanding and reasonable and…so damn calm that Bryan found himself complying.
"Why aren't you scared? You're supposed to be scared. You've got a pissed off vampire driving you to his house. But no. You've got to be the freakin' amazing Verity Glisscielle. And so damn mature. Why can't you be a normal sixteen year old human so I can get over you!?"
Rita felt terrible for smiling. She really, honestly, wanted the tears back again. But, well…Bryan looked so cute when he was angry. Just like during debates in Mr. Vicar's class. He was being impetuously furious and had no concrete argument. She was being calm and collected, and would inevitably win.
They pulled up to his ridiculously large mansion, and suddenly Rita wasn't apprehensive of being alone in it with Mr. I Suck Blood. She was certain he wasn't going to kill her. Apparently he seemed angrier with himself than her.
"Do you realize you are showing your rightful anger towards me by telling me how great I am?" Rita ventured with a little smile. Bryan grumbled something unintelligible as he distractedly got out and opened the door for her. Only when he retrieved both their backpacks did he realize that he was supposed to be mad at her. With a frustrated growl, he dropped the sack on the concrete.
"Open your own damn doors. And carry your own damn book bags. And…"
"Do something that involves the word 'damn'?" Rita suggested as she stooped to retrieve her bag. "Look. You're not really mad at me. All right, so you are and you have every right to be. But you didn't let me finish. The Goddess of Good Advice said that I should try to really like you. And guess what? I kinda already sorta do."
Bryan stopped his search for the ever elusive house key. His lava eyes leveled at her. "I jump with joy," he responded in a flat voice. He even did a little, depressing jump before resuming his search. Rita frowned.
"But do you still like me?" she persisted. Bryan's answer was a dark look as he turned over a flower pot. "Do you?"
"Would you be standing here on my porch if I didn't like you?" he retorted. Rita smiled and watched Bryan break the window he had replaced days earlier. She won the debate. He continued, however, "This is just so wrong. I know you don't have the perfect life, Rita. But you're getting off easy, again. You just don't realize how many times people do this for you, do you?"
Rita stared at his back as he climbed into the window. It wasn't true. He didn't know anything about it.
The moment they entered his home, the phone rang. "My, my, aren't we popular?"
Bryan, taking on the familiar irritation that usually came after debating defeat, glared and answered it, this time waiting for the hello. He sighed tiredly and handed the phone to the puzzled girl on his couch, attempting a French novel.
"It's for me?"
"Of course it is. It's not like anybody would call pathetic, misused, abused, manipulated Bryan Smith," he answered and wandered into the kitchen.
It was Quinn. "How did you get Bryan's number?"
"He steals cell phones, I steal address books. Life's funny like that." His voice was rough, and oddly strained. The kind of voice used to bear bad news. Oh dear. Jared had told her Kyros had gotten in trouble with Quinn earlier today. Maybe that was it.
"I'm laughing so hard I'm reduced to tears. Is this about Kyros?"
"No." He cleared his throat. Rita frowned; Quinn was not the type to clear his throat, or stall. "I got a call from Boston just now."
"Oh, really?" she asked, disinterested. "How's mom?" She didn't ask about Melissa. Her older sister would always be the same, in Boston or on Mars.
"I hate stalling like this. But…there's been an accident." He tripped strangely over the last word.
"Accident?" she repeated dumbly, letting the novel drop. A bad feeling sprang in her chest, and began spreading throughout her body. "In Boston?"
"Yes."
"With my mom and my sister?"
"Yes."
"In cars?"
He can't say yes, Rita thought numbly. The Glisscielle's had the worst luck with cars. Even walking led to some sort of trouble. But cars…
"Yes."
Rita stood, ignoring the lump in her throat. "Are they…"
Where's Melissa? Melissa should take care of this.
"Gone," he finished for her. Compassionate and final.
Or Mother? Mother would know what to do.
They're not coming back Rita. Not ever. Not. Ever.
"Why?," she rasped out. It seemed to be the only thing to come to mind. "Why?"
"They went out to dinner. All of them. Sister, mother, supposedly disowning relative. It appears that the limo driver visited the bar too…"
"Darn those limo drivers and bars. First Princess Di and now my family…" Her voice hitched on her false laugh. Her voice didn't feel like her own. It whimpered and squeaked and hitched. She couldn't control her own voice.
Rita sat back on the couch, one hand placed tightly over her eyes. "Now's not the time to cry, is it?" she asked brokenly. "I've got to think of funeral arrangements, life insurance, custody…" Her voice broke again, and she squeezed her eyes tighter. She just needed to keep the tears in.
"No, Rita, no. We're going to take care of that. Are you okay?"
"I…I just can't…"
Breathe.
Think.
Function without my mom.
Live any more. "…talk right now. I've gotta go." On the other side of town, Quinn heard a beep and the dial tone.
Dead. Her family was dead. They weren't coming back.
Ever.
What was this pain in her chest? Was it possible to have a heart attack at sixteen? Yes, the pain told her. Yes it was.
"Rita? Rita, what's wrong." Bryan stared at her worriedly.
Nothing…no, wait, everything. Cars. Alcohol. This premature cardiac arrest.
"Rita, calm down. Rita, take a deep breath. Rita inhale, one big breath." But she didn't. All her respiratory system seemed capable of was those short, shallow gasps, while her hands pinched and squeezed each other obsessively.
Who cares about breathing when your world ends?
"Rita, you keep gasping like that you're going to pass out. That leads to brain damage…maybe death. I mean I know how you're fascinated with it and all…," she heard Bryan plead, desperate humor in his voice.
Then I can be with my family. No wait…then I'd move on to a different body.
"Rita, here, lie down."
Was mommy lying down? On some cold slab of steel, in a dark drawer, filed away like my college brochures? What about Melissa? Melissa never lied down around this time. This was her snack time.
"Rita, stay here. I'm going to call the paramedics."
This shouldn't be the time for tears. Everything was just so wrong. Somebody had to go make it right again.
"But it doesn't have to be me," she told herself. This is what happened when she tried to take charge. Allowing the Daybreakers to send them away. She basically killed them. If she tried to take charge again, Rita was sure some other tragedy would occur.
She quietly tip toed past Bryan, who was frantically arguing with the emergency operator.
The wind outside was cool. Indifferent to her bleary eyes and little protection. Like damn drunk drivers. The clouds slowly swallowed up the harsh sun. The upcoming storm clouds gave everything an unnatural greenish, grayish tint.
Rita swore off alcohol and tobacco as she ambled down the drive way. It wasn't fair. Her father knew what was coming, he chose to smoke. But mother and Melissa didn't imbibe anything. And they died. It wasn't fair at all.
The gate was tricky. No code, and that was the only way to open it. As she stood there, contemplating what to do, a Mustang pulled up to the front.
Kyros didn't say one word. She watched silently as he left the car, walked up to her, and broke Bryan Smith's gate. It was like watching Superman bend the bars to help a buddy out of jail. Except the buddy didn't care if she rotted in jail. And Superman was miserable.
They sat in the car for a few seconds, without saying a word. Like the one in Bryan's car. Except she didn't want to talk, and he didn't feel like listening. Ye Old Town Square was blurring past them when he finally muttered, "I just got fired."
Rita nodded. It didn't sound like the end of the world, but by the sound of his voice, Rita could tell it was the end of his. "My family just died. Well, not just. But they are. They have been."
Kyros nodded. They reached the beginning of a foreboding road, bare and lifeless under the threatening clouds. Rita had never been past this point.
Because her family had always been there. She had never needed anything else. She had never hoped of anything else.
Mommy and Melissa were never coming back. Ever. Her library was full of books written by people who never knew real sadness, real excitement, or real endings. A million and a half clubs in an anonymous school. Hundreds of people who needed her for something, some random program that needed her supervision. A few people who wanted to know her, but who never really would. Bryan. Jared. Ophelia. They never would. All her work for her family. All for nothing.
The edge of Anomina. There was even that corny sign that told them to come back soon. Bull shit. Kyros wished he never came and made a mental note that, in the unlikely event that he ever did return, he'd burn that damn sign down.
"We're going to New York." Rita gave a tentative smile, hands still pinching each other but a calmer speed. The Mustang roared in agreement with the new destination.
"I've never been to New York." Technically, she had never been outside of Anomina, but now was not the time to think of that. Now was not the time to think of anything at all.
~*~*~*~
I must not laugh, nor weepe sinnes, and be wise,
Can railing then cure these worn maladies?"
John Donne's Satyre III
Sorry about the notes; just got tired of plain talking or the necessary contact for mental communication. Y'all must think I'm some sorta sadist for doing this to her…but, it's necessary, I swear on my…car manual. Will you accept that? Car manuals are very important, after all… Oh, and should I make my chapters shorter? Are these long chapters daunting?