World weary traveler: yes, politics suck. Now that that's been established, I won't make any promises about killing, really people. I'M not killing people. The characters are killing people. The characters' conditions are killing people. Please don't picture a sadistic little author going around and killing people. Any who, sorry about the length, but hopefully the content makes up for it.
More than u know: It's fun making people go "Yay!" Any who, thanks for understanding. I hate it when I'm doing my well-deserved moping and my mom tells me to think of what else is going on in the world and blah, blah, blah… But, any who, I'm better now and you have nothing to worry about. I'm not going to kill Kyros. I'm pretty sure the guy's non-killable.
Martha: Thanks for the thanks…I honestly didn't even feel like posting anything for a while, but now I'm glad I did. I hope this chapter lives up to the last one.
Aife Bisclaveret: It was weird, just before I posted the last chapter I was wondering about you and your story. What a coink-e-dink, huh? Any who, I understood the sentence. Aw, sorry about her…but I'm glad you're recovering. And I'm glad to hear she wasn't too Mary-suish. I liked her too (duh). And, I guess all their accidental chemistry is my fault. I mean, they like each other and all (of course, they're both gorgeous) but I honestly have no intention of making anything happen between them. Plus, Winnie does need a boyfriend, not some guy who needs reforming.
Ugh, it seems that everyone and their grandma (Er, I believe that's a common saying, at least around here, but if it's not, my bad) has been to Paris! As always, I'm jealous. I'm thinking about running away to Paris, but I made the vital mistake of telling my mom. And, apparently, there's a rule about young girls traveling alone and what not. And any review makes up for your laziness, I'm just glad to learn you haven't fallen off the face of the earth or anything like that.
Alocin: Well, I loved your review about loving it, so that about evens it out. Sorry for the wait!
Neona-deniker: I know, it's awful lengthy, ain't it? It's over twice as long…it wasn't supposed to be, but I guess it's all right. I don't know how long it'll be, but I can absolutely guarantee it will NOT reach the triple digits. If it did, that would be sad. And I do have an idea for another fic, but it's so hard to get started. I mean, look at this fic, it's so hard to get done. I've never fallen through a frozen lake before, so I hope the description is realistic. As I wrote, I'm terribly jealous of you're having gone before, but thanks for the condolences!
Oli: All right, possible "mishiness" b/w Adrian and Rita in this chapter. Or I could be lying. You'll just have to continue reading to find out. Insert evil laugh Any who, I WISH my name was Adelaide. It's so pretty, much prettier than my real name. (Security reasons prevent me from releasing it, but it's one of those that can be turned into a boy's name. So yeah, all through school, just to annoy me, they'd call me the boy version for fun. Bastards) But it's cool that you live there! Hey, I know Winnie's pretty capable, but we must remember that Kyros is a grown man and sometimes he can save himself…this just isn't one of those times. But hey, somebody had to defend him. Naw, you're not an idiot; if I didn't know it led to nothing I would have clicked on it too out of curiosity. Goodness, math AND physics? I wouldn't have had the brain power to even get online after that. Anyways, hope you enjoy.
Soraira: What? I thought "boink" was an everyday, common word…well, maybe it isn't. Maybe that's why people have funny reactions when I use that word so freely. Oh well. Hey, Tala and Monroe were great fighting or not. Verity and Adrian aren't that great, fighting or…fighting. They don't seem to do much else, do they? Well, whether they get along or not, I'm glad you enjoyed it. But I'm pretty sure that kicking their asses is against company policy. Besides, Kyros is not above suing. And you can try to kick me but, I warn you, I run pretty fast…plus I'm a pro at fake crying. People would point at you and say, "Look, that's the one who made that little girl cry." And we don't want that, do we?
Vague Verity
Chapter 18
"Sweet is love when all is sane
Sweet is death to rid the pain
~*~*~*~
Her eyes, frozen jungles, stared at the unfathomable darkness as she sunk deeper and deeper. Rita couldn't think coherent thoughts any more, just emotion. And she was terribly depressed.
Then she jerked, back and up. Confusion slowly peppered her features. Spasms weren't a normal way to drown. Before she could realize what exactly these upward movements meant, the freezing blackness suddenly lost hold of her. It was just as cold, but it better. Her numb mind registered that much. Even though the hard thing she was lying on was so cold it burned, it was better than what she sank in.
But that boy yelling above her wasn't helping.
Adrian, frantic, rushed to the tent she pointed out a few seconds earlier. It was half buried in snow, but at least it gave protection from the wind. He laid her stiff body on a sleeping bag, and rubbed her arms in desperation.
"Verity! Verity! Rita, say something!" He would have settled for a blink. The worried dragon racked his brains for certain procedures but came up with nothing. Reviving humans hadn't been something he aimed to learn. Frantic, he grabbed his soul mate and flipped her on her stomach, and then administered two thumps on her back.
Rita winced.
Causing pain wasn't what he hoped for, but at least it drew a reaction. He continued, despite the pain it caused both of them, until Rita coughed. Verity took a deep breath and coughed violently again. Her whole body shuddered and, after a few more erratic thumps, began coughing up water.
Relieved to see her breathing, Amaro quickly surveyed their shelter and grabbed the other sleeping bag. Despite her twitching movements, he managed to wrap the thick blanket around her as she continued to dispel the water from her lungs. Rita let out some unintelligible sounds, but Amaro was too preoccupied with keeping her warm. Her breathing was steady now, and she laid still as he helped her flip onto her back.
He had no idea the tent would hold the necessities, hence his reason for taking off his shirt, in the case where she needed dry clothing. Yet that was little help considering he had forgotten it near the fatal hole. A fire would help her, but there was nothing to burn.
"What is it, that humans do, to keep from dying from the cold?" he asked her as he rubbed her shoulders. Rita's eyebrows furrowed, either searching for the answer or trying to understand what he was saying. The only sign of their accident was the chattering teeth and her wet, dark hair. He saw a motion picture once, about something about hypothermia and body warmth…
The idea hit both of them simultaneously. Rita was the first to speak.
"Take one stitch off of me…and you'll be a one horned dragon."
Adrian initially ignored the threat. "You can't just lie there in the wet clothes," he reasoned, searching through one of the suit cases. He grabbed two large shirts and sweat pants, then crawled back to her. "Losing two horns isn't too bad."
He could have sworn she was on the brink of death a minute ago. Her hand shot up, keeping him at bay. "How about losing one testicle?" she asked menacingly and grabbed the clothing from his hand. Adrian gulped—though he seriously didn't believe the threat, just indulging her, that's all—and obediently turned away when she ordered.
"All right," she said, thankfully calmer, "you can turn around now." Adrian hastily faced her and helped her turn over the sleeping bags so that she could lay on the dry sides.
They were both kneeling, and she couldn't help but notice the rectangular outline in his black pants. "That book is probably soaked in your pocket," she pointed out hopefully. He only grinned and guessed what she was trying to do.
"Then I'll just let it dry there," he answered and grinned wider when he saw her frown in disappointment.
Color was slowly seeping into her face, despite the fact the temperatures remained low. Apparently, Verity was more resilient than he originally believed.
Until she swayed briefly and her eyes fluttered shut. Naturally alarmed, Adrian assisted the half conscious human back between the sheets. Seeing there was nothing else for warmth, he settled for tightly tucking the unzipped sleeping bag around her languid body. He hadn't noticed their nearness until Rita opened her eyes.
Oh…god, she thought panicked. Normally, she wouldn't take his name in vain, but this was a very scary moment. Their eyes, their foreheads, and most importantly, their lips were a few centimeters apart. And it didn't help that he lowered his head so that all it took was sudden movement on her part to initiate a kiss.
God, god, god, god, god, god… If she spoke, commanding him to back away, that would have made their lips brush against each other. A kiss. If she turned to the left, her mouth would have slanted over his. A kiss. If she turned to the right, same dire result. A kiss. If she shifted, no matter how little, her head would have risen far enough to meet him…a kiss! Oh…Verity squeaked in her mind, at the utmost pinnacle of panic…god, what do I do? God, god, god, god…
Adrian removed her dilemma as to what to do. With a small smile, he leaned down and lightly pressed his lips against hers. And stayed there. A kiss.
A few seconds of a familiarly strange place. The time span of a quick thought—enough to let her see something not his, and not hers. Theirs. It was blinding, commanding, and beautiful.
Rita automatically stilled, not even daring to breathe. She thought the dungeon was petrifying, but being kissed by a virtual stranger, albeit her soul mate, who lacked all functioning emotions of a normal human being, plus his shirt, brought on a whole new level of terror.
He pulled away slightly, and she thought the sweet torture was done. His eyes were churning, just as confused as she was; but he obviously found oceans of comfort in their position. He bent down again…
"No," she protested weakly, and the word allowed her lips to brush against his.
"Why?" Adrian asked, not moving away, yet not coming closer either.
It was indescribably difficult to explain why with her soul mate hovering so closely; Rita could barely breathe, let alone formulate a solid argument. She managed however, by saying what she felt, not what logic could offer.
"Because kisses can't fix us."
This time Adrian stilled, eyes wide with realization and…something like hurt. It was true, he knew that. But that didn't mean he liked the sound of it.
"That's a good reason," he murmured softly, gingerly meeting her lips again. Adrian felt her tense once more, and was not remorseful for it. She hadn't expected him to continue. "But we better make sure, just in case."
A few words, utterly corny in a different context, presently left Rita too terrified to protest. The pressure was stronger this time, his mouth a bit more demanding.
Close your eyes, she heard—or felt—him gently urge. The thought reached her, slipping between the bright waves of warmth.
Why?
Because then your eyes won't get frozen cross eyed, staring at my nose.
Which, in Rita's now shattered and boggled mind, made perfect sense. She closed her eyes and, against her will, enjoyed the sensations of his touch. She wanted desperately to not feel anything from Adrian Amaro; not his thoughts, not anything. But it was hard to ignore those lips, and the weight of his body on her own. God it was a good kiss. Not just his lips—she never knew a dragon could have such soft lips—but his hands. Resting, then gripping her sides…slowly sliding upwards…running through her slick hair…cupping her head…
Then came the most pleasant surprise. In between the feverish caresses and seductive nibbles, he pulled away and did not return to her mouth. Instead, Adrian, whose eyes had now glazed over, turned his attention to the corner of her lips, and then ran kisses along her jaw. Rita was shocked, though not disgusted, when she felt him softly nuzzle her neck.
She had always hated seeing couples slobber over each other, devouring at each other's necks like crazed cannibals. But the nibbles slightly teasing her skin only evoked one emotion, and it was not disgust.
Verity was comfortable. For the first time in too many years. Idly, she thought it strange that she had never been at peace, even in sleep for ages. Yet the man who she believed deserved the most hatred made her forget her worries. This was bliss, this kiss was heaven—and it felt as if there was no need to question it.
As she sunk deeper into the ecstasy, Verity let the idle thoughts slip into oblivion. Giving him better access, she craned her neck to the left.
And instantly pushed him off.
"Oh my goodness," she exclaimed, scrambling away from him. "That's Kyros' stuff!"
Adrian sat back, more than perplexed. "What is?" he asked after recovering from their sudden separation. Rita crawled to the open suit case, from where Adrian had grabbed the shirts and sweats pants. She held up a pair of red polka dotted boxers.
"These," she said triumphantly. Adrian raised an eyebrow, indigo eyes brightening with disbelief and jealousy.
"Are you that familiar with the shifter?" Rita laughed and came closer, though not too close. Shirtless, soaked, and out of breath, yet Adrian Amaro still managed to exude an intimidating aura.
"No, look at the band." She folded it so that he could see. "Mrs. Snow always stitched everybody's name on their underwear. Look—Kyros Snow." True to her word, Adrian did spy the letters sewed on the garter. Even had little hearts before and after the name.
"So?" Adrian appeared disgruntled; after all, his impromptu cuddling session with his soul mate was interrupted by another man's underwear. Rita, now terribly excited, moved to the other suit case and recognized Winnie's glittery, chic sweaters.
"So, Adrian, it means they're here! Well, not here, exactly, but—" Her shoulders slumped as it dawned on her. "Oh, no…Adrian, they're in your castle. They're trying to rescue me!"
"Don't flatter yourself." He stretched uncomfortably. "Maybe…they're just exploring?"
Rita gave him a look. "Even if they are 'just exploring' whoever trapped us might catch them. Adrian, we have to go back."
Now it was his turn to give her a look. "We just spent days trying to get out. We are not going back."
Rita grabbed another of Kyros' shirts and began drying her hair. "But then they'll spend a long time looking for somebody who isn't there!" she protested.
"They'll wise up after a few days," he replied uneasily. "Come back here before you freeze…again."
"Oh, but Adrian!," she pleaded, settling back on the sleeping bag, "They're probably caught. I mean, if a dragon can get caught by the people in there, what chances does a witch and a fox have?"
"Good point," he conceded. "But, in the highly unlikely chance a rescue is necessary…you're not coming with me."
"What?"
"I said, you're not—"
"I heard what you said," she snapped, eyes blazing. "Why can't I help you?'
"How can you help me? There are vampires and…other sort of things in there. A human girl can't do much."
"Yes I can."
"No, you can't."
"I've borne being linked to you, haven't I?"
"Yes, but you can't kiss the guards to death."
"That was a cheap shot. You practically seduced me." He was worse than Kyros, she realized, because where Kyros was a few years older than her, Adrian was centuries. "Cradle robber."
"With one kiss!"
The arm that she had propped herself on wobbled. Rita stared at it, and suddenly there were two arms. That didn't make sense…oh. Her vision doubled. That made more sense than the theory of growing another limb.
"Rita?"
She snapped up to look at him. The dizziness vanished. She only had two arms, not three. All was right with the world.
Adrian crept closer, eyes narrowed. It looked as though he had a sneaking suspicion in mind. His feather light touch tilted her chin up, so that he could study her neck.
"Verity, has any of the guards visited you lately?"
The urgency in his voice told her now was not the time to start bickering. Scratching her head, she recalled the past week. "Um…no. I don't think so."
"It all seems a bit fuzzy, right?" Rita nodded in confirmation.
"I mean, day in and day out of darkness…it all just sort of blurs together." Adrian gently grabbed her hand, bringing her closer to him.
"Rita…what I'm about to do—you're not going to like it, but it's necessary." He brought her index finger to her lips, and for one girlish moment, Rita thought he was going to kiss it. Until she felt a sharp nip at the end of it.
"Ouch!" Her hand darted out and slapped him. "You just don't walk around, biting your soul mate's fingers!"
"Rita, pay attention!" he scolded as he rubbed his cheek. "Didn't you notice how fast you slapped me? I couldn't block it."
"Bravo to me then," she mumbled, nursing her offended finger. Adrian, with his unbreakable grip, clasped her hand and held it between them. Both watched silently as blooded beaded out, and then the tiny cut seamed together. As if by magic. "Um…you don't think the bread they gave me was specially fortified with healing vitamins, do you?"
Adrian shook his head, and Rita smiled to see an angry, red mark on his cheek. "Guess you don't understand. You recovered amazingly well from the fall into the arctic water, and you heal automatically." She stared at him blankly, waiting. "Rita! They've been turning you into a vampire."
Rita leaned back, eyebrows furrowed. "But, I don't remember being turned into a vampire—"
"Course not. They've probably blocked your memory of it, and it usually takes two or three exchanges." Rita glanced at him skeptically. "Don't give me that look. I tasted it in your blood—you're different now." Adrian rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation when she continued to take it with a grain of salt. He practically stomped over to the case that held the nice, pretty sweaters and pulled something shiny out. "Here." A mirror was tossed into her lap. "Look for yourself."
Still cynical, Verity picked up the ivory handle and gave a cursory gaze at her reflection. She was ready to toss it back to him when something caught her eye. Rita held it closer to her face.
"Goodness gracious, Adrian. I'm pretty!" It wasn't exclaimed with glee, nor with excitement. Just plain, modest shock.
"I know. But, since the exchanges, they're making you prettier. One of the perks of being a leech."
Her green eyes held tiny shards of green, each a different shade. Her lips fuller, redder. Her cheek bones, which she once thought were nonexistent, were now more pronounced. Even her eyelashes were thicker, so much so she wondered how she kept her eyes open. She sighed. Her hair was the same: dirt brown. It was nice to be pretty…Verity wrinkled her nose. "But I can't be a vampire, Adrian. I can't stand the thought of drinking blood."
Adrian, who had been watching her expectantly, sighed tiredly. "I should have seen that one coming." Verity pushed the mirror towards him, irritated.
"You make me sound abnormal. Humans generally don't digest blood, you know."
"Actually, I've been to some parts of Asia where they—"
"Adrian!" Rita cried out excitedly, and pulled one of Winnie's sweaters over her head. "Do you know what this means?"
"You haven't traveled enough?" She unzipped the tent flaps and peered cautiously around them.
"No, don't be silly. This means I'm not just a regular human girl. I can go with you and save Winnie and Kyros. Come on, no time to lose. We still have to get your shirt." Before Adrian could object, his soul mate skipped out of the tent, faintly bidding him to follow. Presumably, she would return to the hole where he had rescued her.
~*~*~*~
Kyros had to hand it to her. The witch would complain endlessly about the weather, his driving, the width of her hips, and everything else. But here, hanging by their wrists, Winnie hadn't uttered one syllable about the pain. Admirable girl.
Evil incarnate vampire had left them hours before. Kyros absorbed their surroundings, searching desperately for a way out. It wasn't the sort of room one would find shackles in. Or the other, various torture instruments resting on a tray on the mahogany table.
"I've seen this sort of room before," Winnie remarked. "You know, that movie about the last czar of Russia? Sorta like that. I wonder if they have Faberge eggs around here." Again, Kyros lauded the girl. He could hear the pain in her tones, but the witch refused to acknowledge it.
"Kinda too much gold crap for me," Kyros replied. It was true. The accents, the curtain sashes…even some of the Victorian furniture appeared to be gilded. To emphasize the dazzling color, the cloths were blood red.
"I don't think so. Amaro has good taste, for a dragon."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Kyros looked to the ground, which was six feet below them, and admired the Persian rug. He swung his body weight so that he could catch a glimpse of his partner before swinging to face the front again.
"Nothing. You just normally don't see a dragon with such refined tastes. More of a barbaric type, you know."
"Hey! Those are my ancestors you're knockin'! My great-great-great-great-great…you get the picture—grand parents probably had great tastes."
"I didn't mean your ancestors," she snapped, annoyed. "I just meant dragons in general."
"You can't say things like that unless you've met every single dragon out there and studied all of their living rooms—"
"Oh, shove it, Kyros. I've tolerated all your comments about witches."
"What comments?"
"About how we do nothing, how we're the weakest, blah, blah, blah… Aradia thinks the one responsible for the Anomina fiasco is a witch, you know."
"Well, that's a witch for you. Can't stand it when a dragon out does her." Their conversation was cut short with a polite slam of the door. The enormous, French windows bathed the newcomer in cold, white light.
Their captor wasn't Adrian Amaro, as they expected, but a female. Tall, even taller than Kyros. Hour glass shaped, and her middle was thinner than Winnie's. Blonde, but not Winnie's beautiful strawberry blonde. Platinum, blinding blonde tresses fell from the woman's head to her knees. Kyros noticed with disdain how pale she was; not like Winnie here, who was healthily tawny. That dark blue dress only emphasized the veins, which were clearly visible under the white skin. And she had a tiny, secretive smile on her pink lips. Her wide, blue eyes danced with laughter.
"Oh crap," he heard Winnie mutter. "We're going to be tortured by Barbie."
"I knew the Matel Toy company had something against Daybreakers," Kyros agreed. The stranger's visage became angered, and not gracefully angered. Now just plain ugly. Amazing how bad manners affected one's beauty.
With short, furious steps, the woman marched towards them, hands fisted at her sides. "One should not be so snide with the woman who holds your lives in her hands."
"Great," Winnie sighed. "Not just any Barbie. British Barbie who slips into third person."
"Do you think she stands on her tip toes?" Kyros was surprised, and a little amused, when the woman slid his shoe off and then threw it at his head. "Ouch…good aim, but for god's sake woman! A shoe?" The witch beside him cleared her throat. Kyros shut up. It wouldn't be too pleasant if he pointed out the tray of, as Winnie called them, "nasty nasties."
"The only reason you two are alive is information—" she began menacingly. Kyros let out a bark of laughter. The blondes turned to him questioningly. He shrugged, as well as one could shrug when chained to a wall.
"I thought the reason we're both alive is we're not dead yet." Off went the other shoe, and again at his forehead. Winnie stared daggers at the girl who caused her friend a rather ugly bruise. Kyros, unaffected, continued with, "As a gentleman, I think it's right to point at that, with you standing at my feet like that… I could totally see down your dress."
"Kyros," Winnie growled. "Stop thinking like a male for two seconds."
At the sound of the suggestion, the woman swayed to the mahogany table. She stared ponderously at the choice of devices. "Hmm…we could always remove his—"
"It's 'we' now, is it? Schizophrenic? Which crazy bitch am I talking to now?" Kyros kept his tone light, but was sweating profusely. Please oh please, he inwardly begged, don't take anything…
The girl approached him again, this time with a devious smile playing on her lips. She held something wickedly sharp and shiny. Kyros clenched his eyes, and turned away as the pasty hand rose.
Evil incarnate vampire swiftly burst through the door. Not even noting the prisoner's presence, he marched to the woman and whispered something of extreme importance. The woman cursed, loud and outraged. Her weapon fell to the marble floor with a resounding clang. Kyros sighed in relief.
"I don't remember my Barbies ever saying something like that," Kyros said as they both stalked out of the room. Winnie twisted her head to gaze at him, one eyebrow raised. "I mean, Andrea's Barbies. Andrea's."
"Right," she agreed, unconvinced.
~*~*~*~
Thierry had begun to lose feelings in his legs. It wasn't wise to stay crouched for hours on end. Then, at last, the witch and the vampire rushed out of the room, both muttering profanity in their own respective languages. Still wary of other guards, he silently leapt from his pillar to the next, which was still occupied by a contemplating gargoyle. He teetered for a few seconds before balancing on the granite back.
He continued hopping until he was directly above their door. Keeping his legs crooked on a decorative ledge, he slowly lowered himself until he hung upside down. No sound of enemies; just the pair bickering. If not for the fact that they had gotten themselves into the situation, Thierry might have summoned some pity for them.
~*~*~*~
Cruel is death when all is well
Cruel is love when all is hell"
Unknown