Yes, well, I knew I wouldn't get any glowing reviews for the last chapter. But I swear, in this chapter, no sad parts. Well, at least in my opinion.
Amy: Jeez, I hope I didn't make you hyperventilate! That "best story" comment is a bit premature, but thanks any way! Yup, a cliff hanger, and a mean one at that. And, don't worry, I'll write a lot more. :0)
Lilith: Come on, Lilith, would you leave an awful little town if Mr. Perfect was there? No, right? And, for plot's sake, Verity needs to leave. I'm sorry! It was so difficult to write, you have no idea! :0) If you like Adrian, then I guess you'll like this one!
Leian: Thanks for the "wow"s! I hope I make it up to you. Some people will find this chapter as a balance for last, but others…er, right. And I'm sorry for not updating sooner, and once again the scapegoat is school.
My goodness you're original. You maybe the only person who relates with Bryan and Adrian, but not Kyros. Raised my eyebrows on that one! Thanx for the name, I wish I could have the good a memory. It's okay I like long reviews. And I'll admit I was sorta misleading about the Rik thing. Sorry about that! And thanks for the review!
Martha: Seriously girl, sometimes your reviews just scare me! :0) And, as I said before, we need to leave, and we can't leave if we have Mr. Perfect still here. Get it? So you're right about a means to an end. Thanks for the consideration.
Person with no name: Oh dear, everybody really liked Jared. I dunno, I'd take backyard corpse and heartlessness into account, but I'll guarantee you this: Rita will not break Bryan's heart. Whether you'll like what happens…hmm. And, before you condemn Adrian as a jerkoff—though he is one, sorta—you really must look at the parallels between Amaro and Glisscielle. That's right, I purposely put in parallels in here. A true sign of evilness.
Alocin: Sad part is I had to sit here and think what alocin was backwards. Yeah, kinda slow, I know. And Alocin, you know that Jared isn't an old soul. Maybe I'll scribble something for him later. Feel the love!
Fin: I'm sorry it was the saddest thing you read, but I'm flattered you think it's the best. And about Bryan and Rita…well, honey, this isn't McDonald's, and you just order the plot like that, lol. And, about Rita being together with so-and-so…this isn't really a love story perse. It's just about her, sorta…I don't wanna give away the ending. But, I think you'll be satisfied.
Marie-Claire: Honey, take a number. I had a feeling if any of you were in my area, I'd be tarred and feathered by now for I did to Jared. Awful? Yes. Sad? Yes. Necessary? Definitely. And, as Rita stated, Jared is not an old soul. Maybe, after this story is done, I'll do something about in an epilogue or his own little vignette. And Bryan's ulterior motive? The latter. Thanks for the compliments…I'm blushing.
Phire Phoenix: Um…so I'm guess "no"? :0) I know it's not fair, but life's not fair. Don't you hate it when people use cliches as excuses? Want more? Jared died because: Life's not fair. C'est la vie. Bad things happen to good people. Stuff happens. History repeats itself. Life is like a box of chocolates…okay you get the picture. I'm sorry, but in order for this story to move on, we'd have to leave Anomina, and Jared was the only thing keeping us there. I feel just awful if I really did make you tear up, and I think this chapter oughtta make you happy.
Vague Verity
Chapter 11
"When two people are under the influence of the most violent, most insane, most delusive, and most transient of passions,
~*~*~*~
On the road again…
Quinn was never happier to leave a place, even the Damned Clan Island. The little town would never be just a little town any more. They drove directly from apartment to the hangar, leaving the worried Fayth and despondent Rik behind. Anomina was the picture of pandemonium, but they decided to leave that to the authorities. Besides, the tri-tipped bullets were just a little too difficult to explain. Rashel and Quinn dropped Winnie off, who had promised to visit Hannah as soon as possible, and then headed towards Boston. As soon as they had a good fifty miles behind them, Rashel asked the question Quinn had been pondering himself.
"Why wasn't Verity there?"
"Where?" he responded automatically. It was a habit from the old days, to pretend not to know what was going on to draw information from the enemy. And back then, everyone was an enemy.
"At the funeral. Didn't Rik invite her? Oh, never mind…" Rashel remembered that Rik had been a functioned like a rotting turnip, and was even less animated when they last saw him.
"Fayth said she couldn't reach her. Couldn't reach Smith, either."
"Did they run away again?" Quinn shrugged.
"Seems unlikely. Rita would be missing the reviews for the exit exams…"
"Rita," Rashel interrupted, "has been very unbalanced lately."
"Also true. Let's not think about it, Rashel. Let's not think about that place at all. We went there, we investigated, and saved about three hundred teenagers." He didn't mention the near fatalities. That kid who took one in the gut almost bought the farm, but missed the purchase thanks to Winnie's extra attention. Other than that, there were no deaths of civilians.
"About half of whom will die of STD's, drug overdoses, or the effects of alcohol. There's a certain amount of fulfillment you get when you hear that, isn't there?"
"Enough to fill a thimble."
"It's good to know the world has such optimistic people like us, isn't it John?"
"How long will you keep that annoying, feminine voice up?"
She dropped the fallaciously happy tone. "Technically, I don't think it was us who stopped it. You saw Rita dance with him. And many reported seeing Adrian shake his head to his people."
Quinn sighed tiredly. "To think that's where Thierry's money went. To reports."
Rashel sympathetically patted his knee. "Nobody ever said bribery was cheap."
~*~*~*~
Las Vegas
Winnie dropped her luggage and cleared her throat when she saw who was in the room. Nilsson had mentioned there were guests, but didn't say which guests.
Maria opened her eyes and propped herself against the pillows. "Winnie." She made it sound like a terrible oath rather than a name.
"Maria," the witch threw back with equal virulence.
"Did you leave your flying monkeys at home?"
"Where's the rest of the lollipop guild?" she retorted with a toss of her hair.
Maria glared and then threw her head back and laughed. "I was wondering when you would arrive," she said, and slid off the bed. "I think it's about time we upgraded your broomstick."
"Is Bitch Academy extending holiday vacations?"
"Hmm, no, but my teachers are simply begging me to bring back their star pupil. When will you be ready for a return?"
Winnie rolled her eyes and followed Maria down the hall and to the rec. room. To win with Maria in a battle of insults was damn near impossible if one didn't think quickly enough. The change of time zones must have scrambled her brain.
"Have you gained weight?"
"It keeps me warm in the winter," the smaller girl replied, handing Winnie a pool stick. If the witch wasn't hooked up to the grapevine, Maria decided it wasn't necessary to tell everybody about the pregnancy. "I'd rather be at NYU than here, though. Valdis's idea."
"How did he manage to tear you away from mythology?" Winnie asked, curious, and landed two in a side pocket.
"Oh, you know me, materialistic as I am. You are now looking at a proud owner of a two headed baby turtle. It's in my room, sleeping."
"Why am I not surprised, I wonder… Where is Thierry?"
"Doing public relations. Anomina's all over the news, my dear, haven't you heard?"
"But the shootings are so two days ago!"
"More like seven, honey, but they've given up the man hunt on the sniper. No, this time fifty teenagers have died, and two hundred something are fatally ill."
Winnie stumbled, causing the eight ball to fly towards Maria, narrowly dodging her head. "What?"
"Winnie, dear, where have you been?" She murmured it rhetorically, and leaned forward to see if she could "accidentally" shoot one at the witch's head. "There's breaking news on every channel. The little hamlet's been quarantined." Maria glanced up, and saw that Winnie was truly surprised. "Winnie, everyone knows about it. Keller calls every five seconds, trying to raise hell for the lack of discretion. Then Galen calls to cancel whatever she planned because they can't get a baby sitter."
"I've been flying nonstop for ten hours. When we left Anomina, everything was fine!"
"That's why it's called breaking news. It's just broken."
"I can't believe this!"
"Believe it. I just hope Thierry gets out Fayth and her boyfriend before the doctors get their hands on them. It would be kind of hard to explain Rik's blood, huh?…Winnie?" Maria looked up and found, instead of a witch, a calm vampire.
"Who is it, Nilsson?" she asked, eyeing the portable phone in his hand with suspicion.
He smiled. "Mrs. Drache, as you very well know."
Maria sighed and grabbed the phone. "Hello?"
"Yeah, Maria—"
"No, I'm sorry, this is Get Help Network. We are here to help rabid panther shifters who insist on pestering stressed individuals in the Descouedres Mansion. If you are responsible for Nilsson's emotional breakdown, press one. If you are a blood thirsty and bored house wife press two…"
"Maria Eldson—"
"If you are neglecting your child press…wait, just hang up the damn phone! This isn't your mission, Keller, get over it!" With that, she perkily ended the call and tossed it to the couch. "Nilsson, are you very busy?"
"Other than removing the rubber ducks somebody placed in all the baths and Jacuzzis of the house hold…" He looked at her pointedly. Maria gave a nervous laugh, and shoved the toy store receipt farther down her back pocket.
"That Hannah and her bath toys…seeing as it's not that urgent, come finish this game with me."
"All right," he agreed after some persuasion, and approached the table. "But I must warn you I'm a wizard at billiards…who scratched the cloth?" he asked, feeling the rip on the green.
"Winnie," she answered immediately, and avoided looking up into his laughing eyes.
~*~*~*~
Boston
A few days later, Kyros was waiting as Winnie stepped off the plane. Boston had never looked so glum, even with the cold sunshine pouring over them.
"Who rehired you?" she asked over her sunglasses. Before he could answer, she handed him her bags and began to walk towards his Lexus. "Shouldn't you be in the New York capital or something?" Winnie called over her shoulder, signaling him to follow.
"That's Albany, dumb ass."
"What was that?"
Kyros dumped the bags in the trunk and strode to her window. "You have a big ass!" he yelled with a wide, false smile, knowing very well his words would be muddled through the thick glass, being both bullet and sound proof. She gave a confused smile back, and shooed him away. "Witches," he muttered as he walked around to the driver's seat. "Just stupid vermin with Harry Potter shit in 'em." He had been ready to welcome her, he really had been. But that bitchy, princess attitude drew anything but an upside down frown from him. Kyros gazed at the girl, who studied her nails, before entering the car. Maybe it would be best if Thierry sent all of them to a "special" academy in England. And then pushed that academy off a cliff.
"Quinn," he answered, purposely making sudden stops when he saw her touching up her lipstick. "He needs help with the investigation. The Maiden and Thierry are already there. Some other people too, I forget."
"Go figure."
Kyros decided to ignore that. "Any way, it's apparently the biggest breach on discretion on any Daybreak mission, ever. Other than Jez's incident number on that train. Thierry insists it's not anybody's fault, but we all know the truth in that." Kyros glanced at her meaningfully, and Winnie rolled her eyes. "Lotta people are bored though, and eager to help. Everybody's so freakin' sure they could solve this problem. Oh, and Thea and Eric are coming too."
"How is it that you know more than me?"
"How is it that we always get stuck in a car together?" he parried, making a sharp left that wasn't necessarily sharp. Winnie swore a blue streak and then punched his arm.
The ride to Anomina was like a prison sentence for both passengers, except twice as painful. By the time they bypassed the many roadblocks, and endured enough police to fill all Academy movies, murder was on both minds. Fayth's boarding house was a welcome sight.
When they reached the top of the stairs, they were surprised to find the entire floor empty. The only evidence of inhabitants were four or five empty pizza boxes, and a mountain of luggage on Jared's old bed. Winnie checked the perimeter, and joined Kyros in the living room. The shifter relaxed in the recliner, finishing the remnants of the refrigerator.
"Where are they? And what are you doing?"
Kyros shrugged. "Eating. I skipped lunch just to pick you up, you know."
Winnie let out a growl and appeared ready to choke the unsuspecting fox when royalty popped his head over the threshold.
"Now, now, Winnie. You have to at least warn somebody before you kill them. Only assassins do it from behind. Hey," Delos protested when the boy began to laugh, "there was no double meaning in that." Kyros doubled over any way. Winnie gave him a little shock before approaching the prince.
"Where is everybody?" He motioned to her feet. "Under my toes?"
"You hafta admit," Kyros called out, still recovering from Winnie's tiny jolt. "Those feet are like surfboards—"
"I meant," Delos cut in, "downstairs. That's where the investigation is." The bickering duo followed the vampire.
Daybreakers were crawling all over the place. Some were sniffing out clues, witches examining and reexamining samples. Among the well organized swarm, the humans pored over the information of all of Anomina residents. And the Daybreak leader was nowhere to be found.
Winnie soon joined a witch at a desk, while Kyros searched and found his target.
"Kestrel, Kestrel, Kestrel. How do you keep in such great—" He abruptly closed his mouth. If it had been opened, whatever had been on the end of the tweezer would have been inhaled.
"Smell this," she ordered, not bothering to turn around.
"Pass," he muttered, pushing her hand away. Instead, he leaned over, and stared at the blank piece of paper Kestrel was studying. "Let me guess. A polar bear lost in the snow. An albino eaten by a snowman. White furniture inside the Matrix. A—"
"Hair samples, Kyros. Luna's."
"Oh gross. You were going to have me smell that?"
"It's been contaminated. All these samples have." Now that Kyros focused, he could see the brown strands on the sheet.
"By what?"
"That's just it. The witches have already recognized it, but it doesn't quite fit the precise descriptions."
"Like what?"
Kestrel pointed to a single strand. "This. Jared fell into undiluted, activated Dragon's Blood."
"And he lived?" Kestrel frowned at Kyros. "Oh…right. He didn't."
"Well, he wouldn't have, for long. It's stronger than Dragon's Blood. No really," she claimed when Kyros snorted. "It is. I think that it's been activated by a different spell. And the Selket powder is more than just Selket powder. It's all been mixed with more advanced techniques. By a really, really, really strong witch."
"Oh, come on," the taller boy scoffed, "That would mean we had the world's most powerful magician right under our feet. Quinn would have sensed it."
"Can you imagine a witch strong enough to block her very presence from, quite possibly, the world's strongest psychic?" Kestrel asked as Kyros pulled up a chair next to her.
"Nope."
Kestrel narrowed her eyes. "Try. Hello," she said over his shoulder. The shifter turned and found himself staring into the wide, startling eyes.
"Hello," Aradia returned. "Hello Kyros."
"How ya doin' Maiden? I heard about your mission on Las Vegas, great job on those rogues—"
"Kyros," she interrupted with a smile. "Please. As you can see, we have more than enough helpers here. And we can't have you distracting all the young ladies," she added slyly. Kestrel, again, rolled her eyes, but refrained from speaking. If that was the way to get rid of him, then so be it.
The witch continued. "I'd rather you go see to Jared Luna's friend. Something Pinesworth. He's in Glisscielle's house…he didn't like seeing all these werewolves. Reminded him, you know."
"Are you sending me away?" Kyros asked, only half buying the friendliness. "Quinn just rehired me!"
Aradia appeared a little distressed. "Yes…but, we need the important workers later on in the investigation. The extras are being used for the primary investigation. When we get down to the hard core evidence, we'll call you."
"Are you telling the truth?"
"Would I lie?" Aradia asked, and widened her eyes a little bit more. Kyros sighed and scratched his head.
"Yes," he answered. "But I'll leave any way because you were so nice when you turned me down." On his way out, Kyros heard Hugh announce that fifty more teenagers had died. Outside the building, the human investigators whizzed this way and that. Deciding that the traffic would hinder the trip, Kyros shifted and ran to Providence Circle. In Rita's driveway sat the Yota, and in the window he spied Fayth pacing.
"Guess who's back!" he announced as soon as he walked in. To his complete shock, Fayth ran over and hugged him. Before he could return the affection, and hopefully more, she broke away.
"Thank Goddess you're here. Rik's in the master bedroom. He won't say anything, he won't do anything. He just…sits there." The last was said forlornly as the girl looked back to the room, as if she could see her depressed friend through the walls. Not wanting to witness tears—because, to be truthful, he had no idea how to deal with tears, especially those of females—Kyros quickly said:
"And you're glad to have me for entertainment," he finished with a smile. "I'd be happy to help, babe, but I don't think it's loyal at all—OW!" Kyros rubbed the injured rib as Fayth grabbed her coat.
"You are here to irritate the hell outta him. If anybody could get a response from a vegetable, it's you."
"Well, what do you want me to do?" Fayth stared at him as if it was obvious.
"Kyros, what you do nonstop…Talk," she answered when he stared at her blankly.
"Hey, hey where are you going?" he called out as she swept out the door.
"Home. I can't stand not helping," she yelled back and wiggled through the car window, as the lock was stuck on both doors of the Yota.
"But they have enough helpers there. The Maiden told me so," he protested, watching forlornly as Fayth pulled out of the drive way.
"That's what they're telling people who aren't very helpful," she replied with a toothy smile.
Kyros grumbled about humans, witches, and females altogether as he locked the door and searched for the master bedroom. Fayth was right about one thing; the leech had turned dormant. He was sure Fayth hadn't tried everything to get a reaction. A strip tease would have snapped the vampire right outta the conscious coma.
After regaling the vampire with all family anecdotes, and their life stories, Kyros was stumped. This was his toughest challenge yet. Usually after he told somebody his father's fishing accident at Niagara Falls, the listener either left the room or begged him to stop. Maria had looked ready to staple his mouth shut after his mother's life story. But, Rik continued to sit there. And suddenly Kyros remembered he hadn't told his own, fascinating chronology.
He had reached his role in the Final Battle when Hugh arrived. The Old Soul was beyond bewildered when he walked in the master bedroom, only to find a shirtless Kyros standing over a vampire sitting on the bed.
"Whoa, sorry about that," he apologized, and quickly backed out of the room.
"Wait a minute," Kyros called out, and Hugh reluctantly peeped in. "Come in and join us." Then the cheerful Old Soul looked absolutely terrified. "It's not everyday I show people my battle scars…what I mean is, it's not every day people care."
Understanding dawned on the human. "Right. Sorry, Snow, but I'm not one of those people. And I don't think he does either." Hugh gestured to Rik, coming closer. "What is he?"
"By appearance, you'd think bored as hell. But on the inside, you know he's hanging on my every word." Hugh became skeptical. "It's in the eyes," Kyros persisted. "Any way, I got this one when this vampire came flyin' at me with a scythe. Where the hell he gotta scythe, I have no—"
"Vampire, I'm guessing," the human answered himself cheerfully. "Is this the one who knew the werewolf?"
"Yeah, best amigos. Nothing fruity, though, so don't even think about it."
"I wasn't," Hugh replied, frowning. "He hasn't spoken?"
"Nah. Not one 'shut up' since I came here. Can't you send one of the witches to work on him?"
Hugh shook his head regretfully. "None can be spared. Thierry decided to send them to the hospitals and hospices, to see if they could try and save some kids. There's only a hundred left now, give or take a few."
"What about the ones that were shot?"
"They've already died. We've tried pinpointing who on earth it could be, but the only people who left town recently is Verity Glisscielle, Bryan Smith, Adrian Amaro, and a few Night Worlders. But no witches."
"And have we found them?"
"Smith's name pops up whenever he spends money. But there's no word as to whether Glisscielle is with him. Amaro is also nowhere to be found." Hugh supplied as much information was possible and took a seat next to Rik.
"Where has Smith been?"
"A little town called Monte Frio the last time we checked, but then we lost track. Our contacts are combing Europe as we speak, but there's no guarantee they stayed on the continent." Hugh rubbed his eyes tiredly, and rose from the bed. "That's all I know. Thierry said I could come here for a place to sleep…" Kyros directed him to Rita's bed room. Kyros shrugged on his shirt and was about to leave for McDo's when Rik spoke.
"She cried here."
Kyros stopped, but didn't bother to turn around. "Who?" he asked casually as he flipped off the lights, cloaking Rik in darkness.
"Verity. She cried here, for her family." He heard the vampire sigh, and settle into bed. "Jared was my family," Rik stated flatly, and stared up at the ceiling. Kyros said nothing, for he preferred not to think of his composed Rita that way. Instead he left the room, and took Hugh's order before quitting the house altogether. It was pitiful to see a grown man cry.
~*~*~*~
Las Vegas
"Please."
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Pretty please?"
"How many times do I have to tell you? No."
"Please, you big dumb ass. I've said more 'pleases' in these five minutes than I've said in my entire lifetime. What does that say to you?"
Valdis rolled his eyes and walked out of the kitchen. "You've had really bad manners." Maria frowned, and followed, tugging Nilsson along with her.
"No. It means you're being unreasonable."
"Is unreasonable and dumb ass supposed to be flattering? Because it isn't." Valdis set down her tray on the rec. room billiards table.
"But it's what you are being!" Maria pouted. "Nilsson is a very skilled pilot. We'd be in Anomina tomorrow, all in one piece. Well…two separate pieces really, on account of me and him being two separate people—"
"No. Come here and eat."
"But we can't stay here! I thought the reason we came was to visit people. There are no people here, Valdis, so it kinda ruins the whole plan!" She accepted the salad Valdis handed her, and then quickly passed it to Nilsson.
"How about we stay here for a while, and then go visit Ash in Arizona?" Valdis suggested as he took the salad from the butler and handed it to the rightful owner. His soul mate frowned at the vegetables.
"But it's boring there. Stars, planets, whoop-dee-doo," she said flatly. "That's all they do, Valdis. Shagging by day, star gazing by night." Nilsson let out a chuckle before he could help it. "Anomina's a crime scene, for Chrissake. I bet Mary Lynnette's flying there as we speak."
"No. Now eat."
"Valdis, please. You never get me anything any more!"
"And where's Bert and Ernie?" Valdis asked pointedly, referring to the two headed means of getting Maria on the plane. Maria turned shamefaced and began poking at her salad.
"Nilsson lost it in the green house," she murmured innocently as she stabbed all the chicken pieces onto her fork. Nilsson, who had been standing aloofly to witness the exchange, now bolted up right.
"That's a fib if I ever heard one! You lost it, because you weren't paying attention to it while you uprooted your…extra plants."
Maria abandoned her lunch and marched up to her husband. "Do you see what this horrible man has done to me? Making a pregnant woman work on her hands and knees, it's disgraceful! It's awful! It shouldn't go unpunished. I say we should send him away to a small little town in Massachusetts. I'll tag along, to make sure he gets there."
Valdis looked over Maria's head. "Was she framing somebody again?"
"Yes," he answered, much calmer. "And I think it was me." Maria said nothing and ferociously bit at the chicken bits. It would take a week for Maria to open negotiations on the length of the stay. Another to dissuade him from a trip to Arizona. It was finally decided to stay for three more weeks in Las Vegas, and then two more weeks in Italy when the baby was old enough. The closer for the deal was a "new" two headed turtle; in actuality, Nilsson had found it resting in a watering can, but there was no need for Maria to know that.
~*~*~*~
Anomina
Weeks passed all too quickly for those in Anomina. The quarantine had been lifted when it was observed that the family members did not fall ill to the mysterious disease. When the coroners left the morgue, Daybreakers broke in to do their own examination. The results varied. Some died of rapid skin infections, inexplicable tumors, disintegration of random parts of the digestive track, and many others.
Thierry, along with the rest of his team, were discouraged. Thea had managed to identify the ingredients of the potions, and nearly a third of the spells used with them. But the information could not tell them how the humans had come into contact with the potent mixtures. And the Maiden could not ferret anybody in Circle Midnight who possessed the skills of the suspect.
Those who had come to escape boredom left with the realization that their presence was hindering, rather than helpful. With Thierry's approval, of course. Others learned that Anomina was simply a new place for boredom, just with more trees, and took their leave as well. Kyros was forced to lay low for a while, when the humans discovered a Bob Steve had disappeared just weeks before the dance and then returned a few days after. The principal of Anomina High was half certain this Mr. Steve was responsible for Verity's disappearance. More and more teens died each week. Gradually, the rumors faded with the frosty temperatures.
By the time it was officially spring, the humans named the cause of death of food poisoning. All who had attended the 332nd Anniversary Soiree had died, some quickly, and some agonizingly slow. Not readily fooled, the media probed and ridiculed the very idea, but none could produce a sound theory themselves. And they could not connect the burning of the "Come Back Soon!" sign with the epidemic. Residents thought it was strange that the "incest couple," Rashel and Quinn, were not harmed. It was the same situation with the Daybreakers, as their numbers dwindled. Although the means of how the spells were dispersed remained a mystery, most were content to say the Amaro had done it. Most, except for Thierry, Fayth, and Aradia. Especially Aradia.
"The very idea," she ranted. To be sure, it was a very Maiden-like rant, so it was deemed acceptable. Her ideas poured out animatedly as the last of the Daybreakers left Fayth's apartment. "A dragon? A dragon? Responsible for those spells? I'm not approving of the use, but for Goddess's sake, give credit to where it's due. Any body could see it was a witch. You know, if I was still blind, even I would see it was witch. Right?"
Kyros's head snapped up, startled at being addressed. After finishing a three foot sub single handedly, he had been napping on the recliner. "Right," he agreed, confused.
"Of course, I understand that the older dragons have some wisdom in them, but this was a mere boy. His own parents didn't trust him to handle himself. They made sure he was accompanied by his betrothed in the tomb when we took over. I don't see how a few centuries made him the Bobby Fisher of magick. It simply doesn't make sense. Right?"
"Right," he mumbled again, wrapping himself in sleep once more. He caught scent of Thierry entering the room before completely drifting off.
"Thierry, you must send a memo. It was not a dragon. You know, I know, and Kyros knows the truth. Let the rest of the Circle know."
"Why, Aradia. You almost sound as if you're proud."
"I am certainly not! But, even you must admit, nobody expected such power coming from a witch, the supposed weakest species of all Circles."
"True. But to say it wasn't the dragon would leave this an unsolved case. And Circle Daybreak hasn't had an unsolved case since…well, a long time. Nobody wants to ruin the record."
"You will accuse an innocent man for the sake of a record?" she challenged, but her facial expression serene. Thierry turned away, disliking the wise smile the Maiden wore.
"Not for the sake of a record, but for the sake of our sanity. Besides, given his history, Amaro must be guilty of something. Also, you don't have definite proof that Amaro didn't do it. Right, Kyros?"
Again, startled by the sound of his name, the fox shifter jumped out of his slumber. "Right," he immediately replied, his gaze alternating between the two. Which one had said his name? In his dream, it had been a Kate Beckinsdale in her Hawaiian girl suit from Pearl Harbor
"There you have it." Thierry smiled sympathetically and rose, luggage in hand. "I know, you know, and Kyros knows the truth."
Aradia returned the Elder's amicable smile, but frowned as soon as the vampire was out the door. She turned to discuss the matter further with the fox shifter, only to find an empty recliner.
Thierry felt nothing amiss as he drove off, or so he told himself. The friends of the werewolf had recovered well enough, and food poisoning was bound to happen from time to time. At first, he had been mad as hell when they could not find cures, and ready to inflict damage on public property before Hannah called. Deep down inside, the Elder knew he was still broiling, more with himself than any agent. But, as the witches informed him, there were no cures. The children could not be saved. It was better they died in their innocence any way. One witch had said the last part with a sarcastic smirk, but Thierry liked to think of it was the truth. Perhaps their individual makers had ordained it this way, to save them from the horrors of the world. It was destiny, Thierry repeated silently. His hands clutched the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. It was destiny, not some damn sorcerer or dragon.
By the time he reached the private hangar, he had left permanent dents on the steering wheel. It was dumb luck that Hannah called at the same time.
"Hello to you too," his soul mate said. "You sound kinda…tense."
"I am. Three hundred children dead, Hannah. Dead."
"I thought they were high school seniors."
"They were," Thierry sighed, settling in the cockpit. "But, more or less, children."
"You couldn't have saved them."
"I know," he mumbled. "But it still pisses me off."
"Why?"
"I don't know…they didn't fail the mission, Hannah. They did what they were supposed to do. They went to see what made Anomina a magnet, and they found out. We did everything right, Hannah, but Anomina High lost almost all of their senior class."
"How are Quinn and Rashel taking it?"
"About as pissed off as I am. Rashel's been running around taking care of everything. I mean everything, Hannah. She scheduled me to leave at this time, you know. And Quinn goes and takes extra long walks. The local Night World's been worrying about us moving into their territory."
"Has there been conflicts?"
"More than I'm comfortable with. Almost half of them had Quinn involved. I think it's time to send those two on vacation."
"I was about to say that! It's almost like we're linked, somehow."
Thierry laughed, grateful to have his soul mate to cheer him up.
~*~*~*~
New York
"I have had enough of your lip—"
"Oh shut up, you've had enough of everybody's lip—"
"Now, don't you tell him to shut up…"
"Can't a man have a peaceful dinner in his own house nowadays?"
"This isn't your house."
"Well, it should be! Look at this place, it's falling apart…"
"Pass the salt. Please pass the salt. The salt—"
"Is this really liver? I think you got ripped off…"
"No, that's the pepper. The salt."
"Of course it's liver. Are you calling me stupid?"
"Somebody's smoking. I smell smoke. I thought we all agreed no smoking until after ten!"
"In my house, there's smoking whenever I want!"
"This isn't your house!"
"The salt. THE SALT! JUST PASS THE DAMN SALT!"
Kyros sat silently at the dinner table, with an idiotic smile on his face that was hard to erase. He was glad to be back in New York, and not with a secret. It had been hard to keep the news of his termination from his family. And it became harder when Verity left. Now here he was, with both parents, four grandparents, six brothers and sisters, and he had nothing to hide. His smile got wider when his grandfather handed his impatient five year old brother the sugar.
"And what the hell are you smiling about?" his maternal grandmother asked irritably. Kyros merely shrugged, then noticed that all his family members were wondering the same thing.
"I just love you's guys," he answered and handed his brother, who was dumbfounded, the salt shaker. There was a pause, and the talking continued.
"Oh my god, my son's turned into a fruitcake hippie," his father moaned, looking heavenward. Undisturbed by the melodrama, Kyros followed his gaze, but was disappointed to see just their the light fixture.
"What's up there dad?" one of his brothers asked.
"Now don't you call our son a cupcake," Mrs. Snow scolded.
"I'll call him whateva the hell I want! I made him didn't I?"
"You know," his paternal grandmother interrupted, "I read that it's natural for a father to have such high exploitations for his firstborn."
"That's expectations, grandma," Kyros corrected, and was rewarded by a slap on the wrist.
"Shut up, ya damn cupcake."
~*~*~*~
Across the pond…
Goodness, I miss Jared.
Verity stood still as the rest of the tour group moved, and Bryan let her hand slip away. The Tower of London was very interesting, she could not refute that, but so…morbid. Bryan had warned her about that on the way to the landmark. Her husband looked back at her, with a quizzical glance, but decided to let her be. Verity, he had quickly learned, was inclined to get lost in her thoughts.
She did not fear ghost sightings. In fact, she would have welcomed it. An apparition would sufficiently, and ironically, distract her from her thoughts of death. Jared's death, to be exact.
What had they done to his body? She wondered. Had the Daybreakers, so unpleasantly efficient, quickly cremated her friend, just as they had done her family? She didn't like that thought, of Jared being burned. Of course, he was dead and would feel nothing. But still.
Sometimes, Bryan makes jokes that aren't as funny as Jared's.
Rita trailed behind the group, lest she be lost. It was that darn tour guide who had reminded her of him. Something about a Gray Lady. Sad story, really, losing her loved ones. And, that sad lull in his words as he retold the tale had caused Rita to think. Did Jared have loved ones? Did Quinn personally go to somebody's house, wake them up at midnight, and told the bewildered family that, he was very sorry, but there was an accident?
It was hard to cry for Jared. Not because of Bryan's presence—which was constant, yet mildly irritating. But because…Jared wouldn't be there to comfort her. She knew it didn't make sense, but she did not want to be held by her husband while she cried for another man. The only person who could half comforted her was dead. She could not cry.
I miss Jared's arms around me.
She wondered how Rik was, and automatically returned the smile Bryan gave her. Rik was most likely devastated, but he had Fayth to comfort him. Rita speculated a romance between the two, and perhaps this healing time was a way to bring them together.
Silently, she hoped them the best. Rita just hoped they left Anomina, because nothing lasted in Anomina. Then she wondered:
If Jared was alive, would he miss me back?
~*~*~*~
Las Vegas
Valdis frowned at Maria, who scowled back. She wrapped the bed covers high around her neck, and underneath she folded her arms. Valdis copied her stance, except at the foot of the bed.
"Get up," he ordered succinctly.
"The second I do," she replied, each word distinct, "you will stuff me with more vegetables than a cornucopia. I am not getting out of bed."
"Won't it be embarrassing when I drag you down to the kitchen in your night clothes?"
"And won't it be sad when I explain to our son how his father died by a freak, four post bed accident?" Maria's eyes focused on one corner, with a particularly sharp end. Valdis studied it, also, wondering why on earth the vampire Elder allowed such furniture.
"Get out of bed. It's already seven thirty."
"Exactly! It is seven thirty on a Saturday morning. There are so many things wrong with this picture, I don't know where to begin."
"How about your obvious state of laziness?"
"No, I'll just start with you obvious habit of selective hearing. I. Am. Not. Getting. Up."
Thierry had just descended from the roof and to the fourth floor when he heard fiery obscenities. Kicking his pace up to a run, he followed the source all the way to the bottom floor, in the kitchen. He was relieved to find the Eldson's fixing themselves a meal. Maria sat on a stool, brooding, as Valdis selected food items from one of the refrigerators. She brightened considerably at the sight of Thierry.
"Hello! Thierry, darling, please kill him. You don't have to do it right away, but sometime in the next week would be fine—"
"Eldson."
"Descouedres," Valdis returned, nodding a hello.
"All right, so you don't have to kill him really. Just cut off his arms. The brute dragged me from my bed. Damaged your bed, Thierry—"
"How was your investigation?" Valdis asked politely.
Thierry shrugged. "Successful and unsuccessful, depends on how you look at it."
"Better yet, all you have to do is cut off one arm. He can't carry me around like a cave man if only has one arm."
"Hannah know you're back?" Valdis asked, pouring a tall glass of milk.
"Nope, I don't want to wake her."
"The left one will be fine. He doesn't do much with the left arm, I don't think—"
"How about sparring with me this afternoon?" Thierry suggested. Valdis's eyebrows rose. "I haven't combat practiced in a while."
"Sure. Why not now?" The Elder shrugged and agreed, and left to go change.
Maria jumped back when Valdis set the plate before her. "Eat," he ordered as he quitted the room. "And go get some exercise when you're done." Valdis deliberately said the opposite of what he wished. By the time noon rolled around, Valdis, exhausted, asked Nilsson where Mrs. Eldson was. The butler replied that Maria was in her room, sleeping.
Valdis returned to the indoor basket ball gym and approached the mat, where Thierry stood. The Elder was contemplating his next weapon, not at all tired. Valdis decided that, whatever weapon he chose, the Elder would win and laid down for some rest.
"I thought you said you hadn't sparred in a while."
"I haven't," Thierry answered. "I expected you to be some challenge though. None of the Daybreakers have been. Keller came close, but she was impetuous at the time."
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was arrogance in your voice, Descouedres." He heard Thierry toss something towards him, and reached up to catch the practice sword mid air.
"I'm allowed to have some faults, Eldson. Besides, I didn't ask you to practice just to show off."
"Oh yeah," Valdis remembered, not rising. "Thanks for rescuing me from Maria. And not killing me, or cutting my arms off, or just my left one—"
"That's not it." Thierry walked up to Valdis, and looked down at him. "I heard her heart beat when I came in."
Valdis's expression became stormy, and he sat up. "Good for you."
"How is it that she jogs?"
Valdis stood, and dusted himself off. "She doesn't much, any more." Unnerved by Thierry's stare, Valdis walked over to the collection of assorted arms.
"It's irregular, Eldson," he continued calmly, and stood beside him. "Strained."
Valdis set down the wooden sword and examined a pair of daggers. "Descouedres." The simple name became a warning.
"When are you going to have her examined?" Valdis didn't answer. "Have you even told her she's to be examined?" Again, silence. Thierry assumed his choice of weapons weren't that interesting. "Don't tell me you're afraid of her."
Valdis looked up at Thierry, his eyes a furious blue. "Of course not," he snapped. "But I can't very well tie her to a chair. It's kind of straining to be examined against your will."
"Have you tried… well, I don't approve of it, but you know. Mind control," he finally said when Valdis didn't look up.
"She's sensitive."
"Maybe—"
"Look. I got it. I don't need you telling me what needs to be done. We're not stupid." Valdis stopped his voice from rising, remembering this was the man who let them visit. "She just needs to get out her denial stage. It won't take long." As both momentarily remembered Maria's past, the vampires realized the amount of bull shit in the last sentence.
"Maybe," Thierry continued as if Valdis never spoke. "Hannah should speak to her."
Surprise settled on Valdis's features. "Descouedres…I know they're close, but Maria won't even listen to me."
Thierry merely smiled, for this vampire obviously had no clue what role Hannah played at the Final Battle. Instead of explaining, Thierry handed Valdis the practice sword again, and made the first strike.
~*~*~*~
It was all very nice, really it was. But it was also very, very stupid.
Verity sat very still as the man behind her paddled towards the bungalow. She knew she would be of no help, and did not bother to pretend to be. The calm water around was crystal clear, so light blue Rita was sure the sky envied it. As she looked down, she saw the joyful marine life bustling beneath them. And although there was no cloud in the sky, the sun remained cool, and did not beat down mercilessly. Other bungalows sat quietly, spaced out so that none of the inhabitants would bother each other. Each their own isolated, little island.
Moorea was beautiful, Bryan was right about that. More beautiful than any of the other places he had taken her, even more than King Louis' castle. Verity had thought only such paradises existed in wishful paintings. Her own bungalow was still ten minutes away, and through her glasses Verity could see somebody moving in the windows.
Lazily, her mind wandered to their marriage, and the validity of it. Both were under age, and technically the judge in France had been unnaturally convinced to do the ceremony. Would she be considered Mrs. Smith in the States? Better yet, would they ever return to the States? She herself had no family left there, although she had wanted to see how Maria's baby did with such temperamental parents. And Bryan had been formally disowned, much to the pleasure of her husband. He kept the name, however, because he could not think of any other.
Two kids married before they reached drinking age. Yeah, that was great idea.
There was always that feeling of impropriety that Rita could not shake off. That flat note that ruined the entire, romantic melody. Verity frowned to herself, and pinched at her hands. She wished she had never met him, and that she had never known completion. If she hadn't met him, she wouldn't feel so wrong with Bryan.
And Bryan tried, in his own desperate way. He had swept her from paradise to paradise every week. Fulfilling her dreams with all she ever wanted in life. There was no reason to feel like an adulteress.
Her hand idly slipped into the water. Even the temperature was perfect. It was as if her husband had arranged it all, just to please her. Verity closed her eyes, and in the back of her mind knew the truth.
They had played house, under her duress, when they were younger. It had all been make-believe, and everything, from her home cooking to his business outfit, had been for show. Nothing real enough to carry on forever. Verity recognized the similarities from then and now. And none were comforting.
He had sort of rescued her, after all. From his perspective he did what was right. And, even if she changed her mind now, there would have been no turning back. Nobody could reverse a rescue and remain the same.
It would have been a lie if she said she didn't enjoy his touch. And completely untrue if she said that their nights were peaceful, silent, or soporific. They were teenagers, after all. His caress was soft, but left nothing solid enough to grasp. His kisses tender, but did not warm her completely. At first, even as they waited for her "I do," Rita found the idea preposterous. They were mere infants, a sixteen and seventeen year old, entering into a union meant to last forever. Bryan couldn't even stick to one kind of chewing gum.
Verity wished she could banish all ungrateful thoughts from her head, but they tended to creep up in quiet peaceful moments like these. Bryan was happy; that should have made her happy.
The canoe knocked gently against the porch, shaking Verity out of her thoughts. Thanking her captain with a smile, she stepped onto the dock. Surprisingly, the door was unlocked. That was strange. Bryan always locked the door, despite the fact they were in the middle of lovely nowhere. It was a precaution, Bryan had told her, because, aside from his mother, his family was clinically insane. Assassins' visits were not certain, but it would be something his little sister would send for fun.
She entered the bungalow, and sidestepped the floor window. It was eerily quiet, save the soothing waves. Bryan would be waking up in a few hours, for he had become the living definition of nocturnal. Just to be certain he hadn't gone snorkeling, she crept into the bedroom and observed her husband's form under the bed sheets.
His words, from what seemed to be ages ago, echoed in her head.
Have you ever seen a dead vampire?
"Bryan," she called out, inside knowing he couldn't answer.
We turn into dry withered little things…
There was something protruding from his chest. His eyes were still open in tragic shock. She used to admire that lava color.
We turn into mummies. Forever.
Verity's mouth hung open, but no sound could come out. She choked on the scream, and backed away from the body. It was a sick, twisted sight, so deceptively calm. He was supposed to be sleeping. He was supposed to lock the door.
Verity whirled from her husband, meaning to call for help. She hadn't expected the arm trapping her hands against her body, and the heavy, soaked cloth covering her face.
~*~*~*~
they are required to swear that they will remain in that excited, abnormal, and exhausting condition continuously until death do them part."
George Bernard Shaw
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