Chapter 7

Comments: You guys know these aren't my characters already. (Well, Ebony was.)

More Comments!! Sorry guys! I've been buried in a book( lots of different books) all well, um, all through… gee… has it been two weeks already? Well sorry about that. I was reading a book called The Dragon Reborn the week before last. I was reading this GREAT book called The Shadow Rising this past week, trying to get it finished before the new arrival on Saturday the 21st(I didn't!)!! But I did finish book 5 of HARRY POTTER!! Boo ya! *dances in happy circles* Finished today (on the 23rd, at 6:00 today, I'm so very proud!) So now I have a BIT more time to spend on my wonderful room full of wonderful adorers! *Laughs nervously at the imaginary room around her of only about 6 or 7 people, cricket chirps* Anyway, TKD nationals next Monday, so expect nothing from the 30th to the 8th.

To my lovely wonderful beautiful Reviewers(who reviewed the last chapter):

Moonlit Demon: There, see! I will put you first, so I don't forget you(hehe)!Thanks for forgiving me though. I love roses yes I do! Aubrey suffers! *who who he he ha ha!* laughing maniacally like only I do

Arden Kaylien: Goshness! I am thinking my head was just bitten off! (JK) Thanks for the compliment about the poetry, I think.

Shadow Blaze: Yay! No more mistakes for me!! I have finally made a chapter when I haven't made ONE mistake!! Yes, Poor little Aubrey, No more smirking for him! More Threatening Poems!! OOH!

Rogue Vampyr: Thank you for the compliment on the Poetry! I feel so much better guys! *grins happily*

Anytime Rogue!!

Thepretender1031: Yes Aubrey does like Risika, And yes, I do have a bad grammar problem, but hey! I'm doing pretty good for a 7th grader I think.

Tavnia: Thank you so much adoring fans!! Yay! Someone likes my roses!!! Yes, Sapphires are so much better, but Jager is the emerald and Jager is the most intresting character. Woo hoo!I am blessed!

Midnight Scribbler: OOOH! Nice quote! Weird! But nice!!

P.S to all! I love making up my own words, don't you?

P.P.S! You guys did great with blessing me with reviews this time!!

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Risika walks among the crowds in a busy street. She hurries towards her favorite club Ambrosia. She is severely put out by her failed attempt to find Aubrey. Vampires are almost impossible to track after they've "disappeared" for lack of a better word.

She growls in frustration. She might never find him now. She is only slightly concerned about him. He was only her blood brother, fellow fledgling of Ather, and only recently a fledgling of her own.

She lets the pounding music envelop her, and she relaxes at "her" table, forgetting her troubles for a while. A slim human sweeps by, going to fetch orders from a group of Fledglings in the corner. Soon, the girl comes to her and she orders a drink.

Risika closes her eyes and laughs at herself. She was only a fledgling herself, but so powerful as almost to not be one, and she already has two fledglings of her own.

Aubrey, if he was still alive, and Ebony, the fool girl who got herself bonded before she had been there a week. Both wore her twin roses now. A black and a white, to remind herself of her past, and of her dark present.

She sneers as she thinks of Ebony. Risika traces Jager's features in her mind almost possessively. She feels herself soften as she molds her mind around his image. Touching the features in her mind in gentle thoughts, she smiles slightly. Ebony was wrong. Jager was and always will be hers.

She stretches her arms above her head, and kicks her feet up on the table. Her soft boots make a thud on the table, and she shifts comfortably in her jeans and soft silk shirt.

She settles down and watches the band up on the stage in front of her.

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Jager wanders the New Mayhem streets. He twirls his rose in his fingers. He walks out of the New Mayhem boundaries and goes off to find Risika. He wonders how an emotion could be so

strong.

This new feeling lives in his heart, pulsing with crimson fire every beat. He keeps the rose in his hands, fingering the golden tips of its leaves. The silver of the rose gleams in the night, catching the dim light like it is dipped in chrome. The deepest black stands out on the tips of its petals.

He keeps walking. He is in no real hurry to meet up with her, because for the first time in his memory, he couldn't think of anything to say. Well, other than what he has already planned and rehearsed.

He must tell her that he saw Aubrey leave. He tries to think through his speech one more time and gasps when he realizes he has forgotten the entire thing already. He hurriedly thinks up something new. Aubrey left with a . . . a Triste. Alright. When? Yesterday night should do it.

She should feel something from Aubrey's "leave taking", even if his suspicions are incorrect. He almost feels like slapping himself. If it was only a suspicion, he never would have done what he had. He never should have done it anyway.

He practices a sympathetic face, and decides he is ready.

He allows himself to drift into the area near what he knows is Risika's favorite club, and prepares to tell her. It was not easy, thinking of causing Risika pain. It has to be done.

He loves Risika, and emotions have always run strong for him, it didn't matter what emotion. Jager can only hope that Risika feels the same.

He takes a breath and steps into the building. The flashing lights and pounding music seem to accuse him, but he is ready. He walks calmly into the center of the building, near where Risika is sitting. He shivers once, uncontrollably, when he nears her chair.

A smell wafts towards him. A beautiful flower in the middle of a comfortably sun soaked meadow, It smells of green grass and trees. The flower overpowers the grass and tree smells, and it gently floats over him with the cool breeze, with a scent that caresses his thoughts…He reaches out to touch this flower, happiness floods through him like a broken dam. His fingers grow closer to the vibrant flower, and with a sudden burst of ecstacy and energy, he pulls his fingers closer to the heavenly plant, and for a second, his fingers brush the soft petals, marveling at their softness…

A waitress bumps him as he walks past her chair, eyes closed and enveloped in her scent. He can never get enough of it. He would sit down and tell her the truth (his truth anyway) about how Aubrey had disappeared. He brushes past her chair again, disgusted at himself, and his cowardice.

"Oh Jager! I've been looking for you! Oh, Jager are you alright?" Seeming to think she had said something wrong with his face, she stutters. Panicked, he thinks about what was on his face when she said that, fear, anger, confusion, love . . . He coughs nervously for the last thought.

"Oh, Yeah, erm, I'm fine." Her face looks worried, and that makes him worried too, vampires were not supposed to show their feelings. This must be one of the days when she was feeling particularly "human."

"Have you seen Aubrey around anywhere?" Seeming to think she had said something suspicious, she adds, "I wanted to have him deliver a message for me, and I need him to do it soon." Her face shows she thinks she has justified the first question.

He sits there, confused. Should he tell her?

"Well ah, yeah, I mean, I saw him leave yesterday, with a Triste witch. Said something about, um, New York, I think." Hoping she does not see the guilt, and frustration at his own sudden poor lying skills.

"Oh." She replies coolly. He is almost relieved at her nonchalantness(sp?). "I'll get Ebony to send it then."

That perfume threatens to close in on him again. The clouds float lazily in the sky, and haze starts to gather at the edge of his senses. He waves it away. He relaxes as the two start talk. He is almost certain Risika doesn't notice the silver rose he twists between his slender fingers.

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Aubrey wanders around in his cell, it could only be called that, and thinks about what has happened. So it was Jager. Jager. The word strikes hate in his heart, and he beats his fists against the walls.

Why can't he escape? It frustrates him.

Boredly, he runs across the small room and raises his legs gracefully for a kick to the door. The door bends against his attack, and a hole breaks through it. His foot falls through the other side, and he yanks his foot out of the opening.

He peers through the opening, still seeing the Tristes at the end of the hall, and the girl Fledgling. They narrow their eyes at him, and the he slams into the wall behind him, the door replacing itself with the fallen splinters of wood.

He rubs the back of his head, the pain instantly fading. The metal walls bewitched to look wooden are almost indestructible, to his eyes. But a faint breeze blows from somewhere in the room. He stands on the tips of his feet and stretches up his arms.

He feels around the ceiling of his prison, looking for a vent, a small little hole, or anything. His fingers touch grated metal, the witches probably made it not as noticeable. It was a small vent, but all vents have almost the same plans for ventilation.

With one strong pull, he latches his fingers around the edge of the grating of the vent, and yanks it down. It detaches with an almost quiet click. He grins in triumph, and already the smirk is back on his face.

Aubrey looks up into the vent, it was as wide as him, with a few inches to spare. Perfect. He pulls himself up steadily, muscles straining his T-shirt. He crawls up into the vent, and replaces the vent door. He crawls slowly through the vent.

Thankful for his light weight, he proceeds through the vent, looking down into different rooms, feeling hate for anyone in the building. Through the vents, he can see all the rooms in the small building.

Ahead of him, small traces of light filter through the vent. He drags himself closer to the light, seeing a large fan, spinning. It was spinning slow enough that he could stop it, but not without some considerable pain.

"Good thing Risika won't know about this." He murmurs to himself as he pictures in his mind how he must look. Covered in dust, and crawling and dragging himself through a VENT. He reaches out his hand hesitantly and grabs hold of one of the spinning fan spokes.

He braces himself for the pain, and it screams through his efforts to wall up against it. A deep gash runs through his hand, and blood rushes from it. He keeps hold of the large spoke of the fan, dragging himself through the stopped up fan, between two other spokes.

Behind it, he lets go of the spoke, pulling his hand away. As he expected, the gash runs deep, but it is healing fast. He sees a grate in front of him. Metal, with rays of golden sunlight brake like God light. He kicks the grate out, cringing at even the small noise it makes bouncing on the dirt below it.

He runs, desperate to get away from there. He must get away, far away…

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