Now, maybe I'm spoiled by the previous chapters' feedback or…maybe I'm just plain spoiled. But I was sort of bewildered by the lack of reviews. Does this mean that chapter 7 was craptacular? If you don't like, please tell me and I'll try to fix it.
Zabella: Jeepers, you're super talkative, aren't ya? Just kidding, I don't mind short reviews. Thanks for letting me about the boring or non-boring status of the chapter…kinda worried for a few days… :0)
Neona-deniker: Hey! Since I basically said everything in the email, I dunno what to put down here…hmmm, lemme see…I didn't like the last chapter being too informative because when I wait forever for a chapter and nothing big happens, I call it a pooper. But calling my own chapter a pooper would be bad for publicity! Any who, I hope you get the chance to review this one!
Lilith: Go you, second review! Okay, I know it's no reason to cheer idiotically, but who can resist a good rhyme? Any who, thanks for the encouragement, and I hope this chapter will elicit more. crosses fingers Bye now!
Martha: Heylo, thanks for reviewing. Man, are you faithful. I like the Snows too. And that Jared and Bryan part was sad. All right, I know I don't sound too intelligent, repeating everything you wrote, but I'm just showing my agreement!
Vague Verity
Chapter 8
"Half of
~*~*~*~
There were few…actually, many things Bryan hated in life. Stubborn witches were one of them.
"I'm supposed to tell your future, not somebody else's," she repeated.
"But I'm not asking about her future," he pointed out, eyes glowing in the darkness of her tent. "I just want to know what happened between those two. That's it."
"It's not any of your business, even if you did date her for a little bit."
"Right, and did she give you any permission for you to find out?" The blonde witch appeared troubled at his retort.
"Get out," she sighed, rubbing her temples. She nearly knocked over the crystal ball sitting on the table. Bryan shook his head.
"I paid already, and you can't make me. My friends are giving your damn Daybreakers a hard time as we speak. No one to come and rescue you."
Goddess, she thought. You take three Wild Powers from them. You kick their ass in battle. You terminate their kind each year. And the Night World men are still so patronizing. Winnie rose from the table, eyes narrowed.
"I don't need them," she replied laconically. Terse words implied what he thought she wasn't capable of. She? Hurt him? Witch against vampire? Bryan wanted to laugh, but thought better of it. Aggravating her wouldn't work. He just wanted some information, dammit, and she wouldn't even accept a decent bribe.
Although it seemed to be flailing lately, Bryan attempted his "melting" look. "Please," he pleaded softly. "I know you don't trust me, neither do your friends. But Rita did. And I…I just want to help her."
Bryan inwardly breathed a sigh of relief when she relented. If the witch refused, it would have been a sure sign that he lost his touch. He memorized everything she told him, mentally filling in the gaps. He went away lot…that meant an affair. She killed herself, trying to save another man…so she was serious when she dismissed Amaro as "incompatible." Hell, if she couldn't stay faithful to her own soul mate, what were the chances of their own relationship?
"Wait," the witch said as he stood. "You don't understand. Rita was a good girl. She still is."
"I get it," he assured her and tried to stand again. Only to be stopped by the hand on his arm. Let them secede…and they walk all over you.
"No you don't," she stated, tone dismissing any argument. "She's…Goddess, I don't know how to explain it. She's just good, Bryan Smith. How many people do you know still think 'He wouldn't do that, nobody's that heartless'? When you and I both know that there are a lot of people 'that heartless. Get it?."
Bryan nodded, but still unaccepting. She wasn't, because nobody was. Rita manipulated, Rita twisted the truth.
"And personally," she went on, "if she ever isn't…I think it's because of him, the soul mate. I'm guessing his male psyche saw the kind of girl Gitana was as a challenge. To corrupt the uncorrupted. To open her eyes a little, even if it hurt her. And, even though it's taken a few lives, it's showing. So…"
Winnie had a small clue as to why she was being so open with the enemy. Although he was trailer trash, and he was somewhat shady, Bryan Smith appeared to be the only one Verity trusted. He acted as if he'd take care of everything, which would help considering Verity had been royally screwed. She also knew that what she told Bryan was the truth; Rita was an honest to goodness good girl. Only a good girl would have had strong morals that survived all that turmoil.
"Don't worry," he said shortly, rising again. This was beginning to be slightly sickening. Rita goes around, twisting and plucking emotions so people would agree with her way and still feel they're doing the right thing. Now a fellow femme fatale was helping her, for god's sake. Wasn't there some rule that said only one lower species girl could confuse you? Two was just plain cruel. It was time to leave, post haste.
"Wait," she said again, this time with some resolution in her voice. "Listen to me…you seem to genuinely care for her."
"Cared."
"And she seems to genuinely trust in you."
"Trusted."
She frowned, and Bryan had the urge to laugh at the irritated Amazon, dressed in cheap gypsy clothes. "Read my mind."
The twitching at his lips stopped. "Beg your pardon? Did you just say—"
"I'm more of a kick ass sorta girl, so words aren't my thing. But I know in my mind what Rita was because I knew what was in her mind. So there," she said simply. "Get in my head."
He pondered whether he should make a lewd comment right about now, but the opportunity was too tempting. This girl was willing to open her deepest secrets to him. The possibilities were endless. He could find out what the next extermination plans were, probe the secret locations of safe houses…
"And if you so much glance towards any thing other than what I present you, there will be painful consequences."
"Consequences?" he asked absently, scooting closer.
"Second syllable 'stration,' first syllable 'cast.' Got it?" he heard her ask faintly before he slipped in. There was no need to delve any deeper than the door mat, however, because her mental presentation sat there awaiting him. It was all the information she had covertly acquired about Rita's former life with Adrian Amaro. Mostly memories, and some personal opinions of the affair. Shrugging off her inputs, for he wanted to be as neutral as possible, he opened one.
~*~*~*~
Prior Past
"I love him," she said with some surprise. The roses didn't care, swaying indifferently in the wind. Gitana plopped on the stone bench. "I love him?"
Well, that made her feel a lot better. Guilt had been pinching at her sporadically for a few weeks. She had only married him for the solid, dependable comfort. But Adrian appeared to truly care for her. It was a relief to know that she cared for him back. Tana smiled at the flowers. "I love him," she told them again, with a little smile.
Of course she did. He was attentive…when he wasn't neglectful. And he always made her smile…when he wasn't frowning himself. At any rate, when he wasn't distracted by some unknown dilemma, he was the dream husband. He made jokes that she didn't quite understand, so he'd explain it. He made sure that she didn't eat too little, always checking with the servants if she finished her meals. He took her riding sometimes, on the older and slower mares, just to talk to her. And he had dismissed nearly half the males on the staff for displeasing or intimidating her in some way. And he always knew when she was intimidated. She was his, just as he told her their wedding day. She belonged to him and he would always take care of her. Of course she loved him.
With the new revelation, she traipsed in search of her husband. Through the mazes of the hall ways, she found him poring over a book in his study. Cards, books, and horses, she thought as she watched him silently. They seemed to be the only things her Amaro was ever interested in. Well…in the day time, at least.
Walking softly, she approached the desk, wondering why he hadn't looked up yet. He always sensed her before she sensed him. It was how it had always been. Her eyes slid to what held him enthralled. She had seen them before, family trees that is, but this one was…odd. The tree had been filled in, the ancient black ink iridescent in the sun light. Instead of a majestic proud tree, it twisted and hunched, almost like an animal ready to pounce. The branches were not strong nor august; instead they seemed to slither and crawl over the page. But what was most bizarre was the small portraits. There weren't people…there were animals…
"Tana," he exclaimed with surprise. He rose and shut the book. "What's the matter?" She told him nothing and allowed him a small, chaste kiss.
"I figured out something in the gardens," she murmured against his chest as he held her close. He was a funny sort of husband, or so she thought. Because sometimes he would hold her as if she would leave any second, and others he didn't even notice when she tripped over her skirts. He prompted her to continue. "I love you," she informed him, in the same matter-of-fact voice she used with the roses.
"Oh," he said with a small laugh, relief evident in his voice. She felt him relax considerably. "Is that all?"
Is that all? Tana pulled away from him, hurt swimming in her round eyes. "I…I thought it was enough," she explained, confused, and stared at the floor. She heard him sigh and return to his seat.
"Of course it is, Tana. Don't overreact." She tensed and looked up at him. Remembering how he loved her last night, and yet spoke like this now.
"Do you need anything else?" he asked politely when he looked up. Tana studied him, head tilted, uncomprehending. She shook her head, and excused his apathy. Nobody had come to look at the horses in a while. Perhaps he was worried. Tana attempted a smile and kissed him goodbye. In the corridor, she angrily wiped away the tears. There was no need for tears; he cared for her, she knew that. He just didn't display it all the time. There was no need for tears. There never will be.
Bryan set the memory back, angry. Damn her, actually making him feel sorry for her again. All right, so she was a good girl once. But that didn't mean she was one now…
Winnie rudely thrust another memory at him. Jeez, the girl didn't quit.
"What is this?" Adrian demanded as he approached Gitana, who was seated in the garden. On her grass stained lap lay a crown of flowers woven together. She hid her hands behind her back, because the rose stems had inflicted little cuts on her fingers, and Adrian didn't like it when she hurt herself. Her husband held up a stuffed envelope, unopened and somewhat torn.
"Am I supposed to guess?" she asked when he hadn't responded to her shrug. He appeared to get angrier, and tossed the envelope onto her lap. Unaffected by his scowl, she dusted her hands before reading the address.
"Oh! This is Miguel's pension."
"Yes, Tana," he ground out as he kneeled to be eye level to her. "But I didn't write it."
"Yes, Adrian," she said in the same tone, "because I did."
"You know very well that the only servants who get pensions are ancient ones."
"Oh I know," Tana said, fiddling with her flowers. "But Miguel must be…forty. And I think that's late middle aged…"
"Gitana! He was looking at you…"
"Oh no he wasn't! Honestly, the only men you don't accuse of looking at me are the blind ones."
"He fell out of the window trying to catch a glimpse of you."
Having no hard facts as to what happened that morning, Tana could only shrug again and say, "I'm sure you're exaggerating…"
"Tana! Look!" Adrian gestured to the flower bed across from them. Now that she looked closely, Gitana did notice peculiar dips in it, and crooked, crushed flowers.
"He told me your horse got loose in it," she sighed disappointedly. "But Adrian! Miguel has five—no six…"
"Seven," he answered flatly.
"Seven children! You just can't let a man go like that without some help."
"And when he got out of your garden, he returned to your room to steal some jewelry," he continued.
"I don't even wear half of the necklaces…" she tried, but stopped short when she saw how truly upset he was. "I'm sorry, Adrian," she mumbled in a colorless tone, keeping her eyes averted. She felt his hand on hers, and then felt his disappointment upon seeing the cuts.
"It's all right," he said, poring over her other hand. "You should get your maid to dress these. They could scar." She tugged them out of his grasp, nervous under his scrutiny. "I received a letter from an old friend in England. An old sick friend, to be exact, and apparently I must go and hear the last words rather than reading about them. Will you be all right here?"
"No!" she replied immediately, panicked. "I don't know how to tell people what to do. I don't even know what's supposed to be done, for goodness' sake. Can't I come?"
He tilted his head, debating over the suggestion. In silence, Tana studied the golden sheen of his hair, and the churning of his ocean blue eyes. She loved him when he smiled, but he was always the most handsome when faced with a puzzle.
"The journey would be tiring…unless we buy a spacious carriage. But how would you get exercise? Walking with me, I suppose, at stops…no, Tana. England's cold, much colder than here. You'd be ill in a matter of days."
"Furs?" He shook his head. "How about staying inside all day, by the fire?" He shook his head again.
"I'd rather you stay here. Now don't worry, I'll leave instructions to the servants." He rose, but not before kissing and patting her head. Tana watched, with a childish pout on her lips, as he strode away. "Oh and Tana," he called just before he was out of earshot.
"Hmm?"
"Stay away from the stables until I get back."
"But why?" she asked, even sadder than before. Jorge had shown her an expecting mare, due any day now. She had promised to help with the delivery.
Through their link, Adrian felt disappointment wash over her, stronger than the kind when she heard he was leaving. A scowl darkened his features again. "Because I said so."
"But Jorge…"
"Damn Jorge," he snapped, walking closer. "I just want you to stay away from the stables. Is it so hard?"
"Well, no, but there's a mare—"
"There are lots of mares, Tana," he cut in. His voice was hard, just as his stare was. "I'll show you all of them when I come back."
"Fine," she retorted, her voice becoming as clipped as his was. "I won't go to the stables." She couldn't lie very well; as she made the promise, Tana pinched her hands and looked away.
He was furious. She could feel that, and seconds later she could also feel that painful grip on her arm. He was strong, and sometimes he forgot just how strong. Tana looked even farther to her right, rapidly blinking away the tears. She wasn't emotionally sad, nor afraid of him. She was never afraid of him. It was just that…it hurt so much.
"Look at me." Between the choice of gazing at him with watery eyes or appearing defiant, she chose defiance. She'd rather get him angry than disappointing him with trivial tears. Tana merely stiffened her posture, still gazing away. Adrian's voice came very close to her ear.
"You stay away from the stables, querida."
"Or what?"
"Jorge could be…" He didn't finish. Finishing that threat would have gone too far, said too much. He sensed that and withdrew, not even saying good bye as he stalked away. Later, Tana would excuse his irrational anger for admirable protectiveness.
Distantly, Bryan heard the irked complaints of his class mates outside. At a faster speed, Winnie threw memory after memory towards him, all leaving him unmoved. Fights, misunderstandings. Adrian's growing use of the phrases "stupid child" and such. Her growing habit of making excuses for his misbehavior. He understood that she was an innocent, that she was once irritatingly good. But it didn't matter. People change; she changed. Her past life wasn't enough. Even if she was a nun once, it didn't mean she still had the heart of one.
"I have to go," he said, annoyed with the witch for wasting his time.
"Just one more," she demanded, grabbing his arm. He was about to refuse when he saw Rita. Not gypsy Rita, nor nun Rita, nor cold as ice Rita. Rita at eleven years old. Watching forlornly as the movers packed her neighbor's into the truck.
She had been a little chubby then, and her hair was untamed. She dolefully drew with her colored chalk on her drive way, glancing towards the Smiths and sighing. Rita continued to draw her powdery garden, even when a shadow was cast upon it.
"Aw…shit, Rita," twelve year old Bryan whined when she wouldn't acknowledge him. "You know you'll visit. Mom's already arranged that."
"Don't curse Bryan," she scolded. He had almost forgotten that high pitched voice Verity used to have.
"It's not my fault we're moving," he said, frowning at the top of her head. She didn't answer. "Listen, if your dad suddenly came back with a butt load of money, you'd move too. I wouldn't hold it against you."
"You wouldn't even consider running away with me," she replied quietly, hurt evident in her voice. "You didn't even think about me."
Selfish brat, Bryan concluded as he watched the exchange.
"You know I can't live in your bath tub. Where would you take a bath?" Bryan smiled at his pre teen logic.
"It's all right," Rita sighed finally looking up at him. "I don't care if you move away. I don't care if you never move back. I'll just play with…" Rita looked around their cul-de-sac, searching among the children playing in the street. "John and Jasmine."
Bryan made a face. "Liar. You hate them. We hate them."
"I don't care. At least they stay in one place."
"Yeah…well…you're stupid."
She shot up and dusted the chalk dust from her skirt. Then Rita drew her hand back and punched him in the arm. "At least I'm not going to be the skinny, really white, lonely little boy going to that snobby new middle school. You're going to have to make new friends, Bryan, while I have plenty."
With that irate note, Rita turned on her heel and strode into the Glisscielle residence. She watched from the upstairs window as he waited on her drive way. He idly kicked at her drawings, not bothering to return Melissa's hello as her older sister entered the house. She smiled at that; he seemed to be the only boy who didn't fall in love with her.
Soon the street lights turned on, one by one, as the truck pulled away. From a Mercedes, Bryan's father honked the horn. With a frown, Bryan looked up at her window and turned away. Only when their car reached the end of the street did she leave her room, and watched the back red lights fade from the edge of her drive way. She was leaning on her mail box when John Otis walked up.
"So he's moved?"
"No duh John."
"He was a fag any way."
Rita frowned and looked hard at John. "Take that back."
"No," John refused, puzzled. "Weren't you just fighting with him?"
She didn't answer. He never saw the right cross coming. Nor the left hook. It only took one more punch before the wimp had put himself into a fetal position on her lawn. She tapped her foot impatiently for him to look up.
"Bryan taught me that. Don't you ever talk bad about him again, understand?" John agreed, and Rita skipped back into her house to ask her older sister what "fag" meant.
~*~*~*~
"Doesn't exactly show me saint value," he murmured, looking at anything but the witch.
"No," she agreed. They both ignored the queries from class mates outside the tent. "But it made you feel better, didn't it? She goes and defends you less than an hour after you call her stupid. Sweet gal."
"We were just children."
"It's called loyalty, brat. And sacrificing her own happiness for the satisfaction of others. Even today, keeping malicious thoughts to herself—with the exception of arrogant men. Do you still think she's a selfish, manipulative whore?"
"I never thought she was a whore…and no."
"Will you help her now?"
"Yes."
Silent pause.
"So how long will you sit here and sulk?"
"Yes." He looked up at the sound of her giggle. The witch knew a dozen ways to make a man feel stupid. Every woman did, if she tried hard. He glared and left the tent, surprised by the oncoming darkness. Past the faces of Anomina citizens, he could distinguish a single, male figure making his way east. Adrian.
Heedless of those he stumbled into, Bryan followed. Not too close. He was glad the winds blew west, so that he could catch Amaro's scent but not vice versa. There was no good reason why he followed. The man no longer held any answers. Bryan knew all he needed to know. Amaro wasn't a threat any more. But he just had to follow.
Once they reached the woods, however, he lost all caution. There was no point in stalking him; Bryan had no intention to fight. Well, no preconceived intention any way. The vampire stopped concentrating on which sticks to avoid, and strode quickly towards the quarry.
"Why are you following me?" Amaro asked without turning. In the utter darkness, Bryan could see Verity's soul mate had stopped in a clearing, his head turning towards the tiniest sounds. So he was hunting. Smith dryly congratulated himself on perfect timing.
"I wanted to talk to you," he answered directly, stepping closer. Again, not too close. This guy was wired.
"About Git—Verity?" Amaro turned now, his eyes a peculiar, wild color in the scant moon light.
"No…yes," he answered, bracing himself. Bryan searched the face of a man older than him by at least a few centuries. Older but so very, very stupid. "You had no idea, did you?" the vampire asked bluntly, closing the distance between them until only a foot separated them. Both were tense, and neither had no idea as to what the other would do. "Still don't."
"About her?"
"About her kind," he corrected through clenched teeth. He was already angered by his past behavior; Amaro's ignorance seemed to stoke the fire. "She was rare, Amaro."
"Gypsies?" There was that patronizing smile, that brief flash of teeth that claimed superiority. He graced it often to Verity…no, no, it was Gitana. "Come now, Smith. There's still plenty in Europe, somewhere I'm sure."
"That's not what I meant. She's rare now, a little."
"Is this going somewhere?"
"Verity—Gitana—whoever she is. She was a rare one, Amaro. One in a million. And you treated her like crap… Why?"
Amaro studied him, head slightly tilted. "This is why you followed me?"
"You don't have to answer. I just wanted to see if you have a clue as to what you did."
"And what did I do?"
He would have given the world to wipe that small smile off of Amaro's face. The guy had no clue, not the foggiest idea of what he killed. "She was special, Amaro. Until she met you. After that…Verity's just a watered down version of what Gitana used to be, and even with that you have to appreciate it. She's good, Amaro, she's good now."
"I know that."
He almost lunged. Later, it would have been a stupid, childish reaction, to try and attack a dragon…but he couldn't help it. The bastard just stood, smiling, not caring what he had done.
But Amaro's hand stopped him, the muscled fingers clamping around his neck. The vampire barely had time to tense before the dragon was a few inches from him. The combination of neck bruises and the lack of air took a toll on his strength. After only a few seconds of struggling, his legs and hands gradually became limp. Rita's soul mate wore a false grin now, his blue eyes swirling with unreadable emotions.
"Don't," Amaro warned. "It would disappointment Verity to have you die, wouldn't it?" Just as swift as it came, his hand left. Bryan stumbled back, glaring at him balefully. The dragon smiled wider. "You say I don't understand? Neither do you. Not as much as I do."
Bryan's lip curled in disgust. That this idiot was oblivious to the fact that he slowly but surely killed a rare one. One of the few that was born good. One of the few who stayed good. One of the few who actually believed that evil didn't exist any where on earth. One of the few who lived life with her eyes half closed. Seeing everything with sweet blindness. Bryan believed that everybody, even creatures like Adrian Amaro, envied that blissful innocence.
"Never mind," he muttered and turned his back to him. Bryan knew it wasn't something Amaro appreciated. He had always grabbed Rita's arm to spin her around, usually causing a bruise.
Amaro only sighed tiredly and called out, "What the hell are you talking about?" The vampire almost stopped then. Almost turned around and explained. But that tone of voice, that dark sound…the dragon sounded as if he did know. And that he just didn't want to admit it.
"Nothing," he called back. "She used to smile all the time," he recalled to himself and swiftly made his way out of the woods and back to his car in a matter of minutes. God this was a pointless conversation. It was a pointless evening. He ended up feeling more confused than before he the carnival. He suddenly wished Verity came back. Her presence was no guarantee that she'd know what to do. But it would have been comforting to know somebody was as lost as he was. Sitting at an intersection, Bryan took a quick glance at his gas meter. Full.
He dismissed the thought. No. It was a stupid idea.
The exit out of Anomina was just to his left. The road that led to his house was to his right. He declined to even consider it; Rita probably didn't even want to see him…
Bryan didn't ponder his decision at all as he sped by the "Come Back Soon" sign. He refused to even think about it.
~*~*~*~
analysis is anal." Marty Indik
Tried and scraped and struggled and brain stormed and I use to many "and" s. At least now Bryan's off and doing something, instead of sitting around. I'm sorry it's so short, but I thought the quote was funny! Please review!