"No I don—"
"Guardian?"
He looked at the woman who was hidden in the shadows. "Excuse me?"
"Guardian, why would you be here?"
She looked so different. When she removed the sunglasses he took in a breath, having to squint as if his vision was failing, though he really only acted as if it was impossible for her to be whom he thought. Her face was fuller, chin rounded out, and her skin was creamy rather than the color of straw. She had bleached and dyed her hair from black to hot rod red, but her black eyes and scarred lips betrayed her costume.
"Desdemona, do you know this man?" The blonde took Des' hand protectively, jealously.
"This is Guardian, he watches Stygian."
"Watched," Mark interjected. He had told her to drop the Guardian moniker many years ago, but she seemed oblivious to his command. "That's why I've come."
Jordan leaned over and whispered something in her ear, and she squeezed his hand affectionately. She replied, "You've come because you need a favor from me, when you broke your only promise."
"This is who left you to die?" Jordan snorted. He turned away as if in disgust, which was only a ruse, as he would up for the punch he came reeling with. Mark grabbed the blond's fist and easily seemed to brush him aside. He came back for another swing but Dessy grabbed Jordan by his shoulders, whispering harsh foreign words in his ear. The two were caught in a staring contest before his eyes broke away first and he whispered something soft to her, though he returned a glare to Mark.
"I didn't leave her by choice. I left Stygian with every intent to return, Embalmer changed the circumstances. I never thought you would see this world again."
"Likewise. I know of what transpired here on this plain between you and him, quite a number of souls do."
Their tones were flat, it sounded as if every word they read was a line from script they had memorized the day before. Down the road a pair of headlights came into view, and the sound of a large engine as well. It was the bus approaching them.
"Then you understand why I need your help."
"I understand. And I'm not going to give you what you're after for that."
"Dessy, you don't understand why—"
"Shut up. I'm going to give it to you, but for other reasons."
The bus stopped next to them its breaks squealing before the door hissed open. She didn't speak another word before stepping into the huge metal vehicle, and she handed no tickets to the driver. After a gaze at the elderly man he merely nodded to her, and signaled her companions to come as well. Mark stepped on after the two, following them towards the back of the bus. They took seats where there were the few differently styled in which passengers sat adjacent from one another they could carry on conversations.
"What do you mean, Dessy?" Mark asked as he took seat across from her. The bus' interior lights turned off as it rolled into motion.
"I'll restore your immortality, but not for reasons you want." She set her suitcase under her seat. Next to her Jordan sat still holding her hand, even in the dark his blue eyes were glaring. "There are other reasons I have to do it."
"What are those reasons?"
"I can't tell you."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"If I tell you what happens it will change the circumstances of how it will all happen. Instead of nit-picking over why I'm doing this just be glad that I am doing it."
"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," smirked the fellow young man.
Though he didn't have immortality Mark still had self-restraint, which was most useful in not slapping the boy upside his head. There was something he despised about him, it wasn't that he was a smart ass; he'd had his share of many in his life. But this, it was just something…different, unholy.
"All right Des, I won't ask about your reasons, at least tell me what the process is."
"Why do you want to know?"
"What's it matter why I want to know?"
She sighed, and nodded before replying. "A lot of basic things, blood letting, spells, oh, and animal meat."
"Animal meat?"
"Nothing disgusting, just the sort of stuff you can get at a butcher's shop. It won't be for a while though. I want to rest now."
Jordan shrugged off his coat, and folded it up in his lap before pushing up the armrest that separated him from Desdemona. She lay down, and placed her head in the lap of her follower, eyes closing while her red hair escaped the scarf to fall over her face. Across from them Mark sighed, and let his head rest against the bus' window. He could tell she was waiting to tell him something else.
* * * * *
She walked ahead of him along the street, leading the pack. Mark had interjected once that this wasn't the way to the apartment, but she hadn't listened. Instead, she led them to an all night convenience store. A pack of cigarettes was removed from her jacket and she placed one between her lips, lighting it.
"Go inside," she said. Smoke billowed from her nostrils as she exhaled.
"Why?"
"Because, you need to buy candles and ground meat. I know you don't have any at home." It didn't take a demi-god to guess that. Why would the Ex-Lord of Darkness have candles?
He didn't disagree, but rather went in and bought what she told him. The cashier was obviously too tired, and too stoned to care the odd selection of what he had purchased. He was probably thinking about scoring a pack of Cheetos rather than if he was giving out correct change or greeting the customer with a smile.
* * * * *
The stairs that lead up to the apartment were old, hand-built probably back in the 1960s and their condition had faded grossly over time. They creaked if a ball bounced down them, but Desdemona's steps were silent as she walked, the two considerably louder men following suit. She let herself into Mark's apartment, flicking a light-switch, the bulb shorting out afterwards which bothered her little, it happened often. Jordan pushed past Mark.
"Wow, I bet if you fixed this place up it could be a piece of crap," Blondie muttered to himself.
Des looked at Jordan, smiling softly before stroking his cheek with the back of her hand. The smile he returned was so subtle it appeared as merely a twitch, but he cupped his hand over hers. Mark would think them lovers by the way they acted, but the affection was different between them. She was obviously a caretaker of the boy.
"Rest tonight," she whispered. "We'll be traveling all tomorrow to make up for tonight's losses."
"I'll rest tomorrow then, I don't mind staying up," Jordan replied in an equally soft voice.
"Tomorrow I'll need you to watch over me, I'll need your protection."
He couldn't object to her wish, and let her lead him to the couch where he could rest for the night. Mark merely looked on, slightly annoyed at how they carried on their private conversation, but overlooked it all in the light of more important things that were to happen. It was obvious he needed her more than she him. He stepped into the adjoining kitchen colored in a vomit like green color, all to familiar of the swinging '70s. In the refrigerator there were several items: a package of bologna, Jack Daniels, a loaf of bread, and mayonnaise. He chose the Jack Daniels. Just as he started rinsing out a dirty cup to drink from, Des shut off the tap.
"No alcohol," she said, taking the glass.
"Why not?" He gruffed. "I've got a fucking head ache."
"Too bad, your system should be somewhat clean before we start this." She ran her fingers through her hair, combing out the strands with her nails. Taking the bag from the convenience store off of the kitchen counter, Des left the kitchen, and entered the bathroom where she prepared for what was to begin.
When Mark decided to join Desdemona she didn't allow him to turn on the lights. The tiny tiled room was lined with the candles, they were in soap dishes, on the back of the toilet, and on the sinks basin and she demanded that be all that they use for lighting. The tub was one fourth filled with water, the meat sitting in it, poisoning the water with its animal blood.
"Will this take long?" He asked.
"Yes, but you won't notice," she replied, taking a straight razor that sat on the sink.
"What are you going to do with that?" He kept the nervousness out of his voice the best he could.
"Don't worry!" She laughed, slitting open the tip of her own index finger with it, squeezing the blood into the bathwater, and onto the meat.
He wrapped a washcloth around her finger when she turned back to him, surprising her with the act of kindness. "Do I do that next?"
"Just wait," Des wrapped the cloth tighter around her finger. "All you have to do is kneel in front of the tub. You are to look into the water and blood until something is seemed."
"Like what?" Benny's words about 'he'd be lucky to survive' were beginning to haunt him.
She laughed again, though slightly annoyed. "You'll know when you see it! Just do it."
Her attitude seemed so light that he had to trust her. Kneeling in front of the tub he watched the water with the blood swirling about in it, concentrating on the patterns of rings and circles. Occasionally he would look at the chunk of ground meat, somehow sickened by its' texture.
Desdemona placed her hand on his shoulder, before she leaned forward and slit his throat open with the shaving blade.