You know the drill, it's unedited now but soon won't be. Please read and review.
Chapter Eight: The Past is Prologue"I want to thank you for sitting down with me." Diego said as he sat down across from Severus. In front of him on the table were a legal pad, a pack of chewing gum, and a fountain pen. "I can never get Becka to talk about Rio Hecate."
Snape wondered why Diego would ask Becka about that mission when it was his squad that had overseen it from start to finish. But then again, Stallens had always been close to Sydney. She was an old war dog that had been assigned at the same time Jude had and even worked with when them when Malachi ordered it. This was many years before he and Billy had ever joined. Before them, and before Becka had been assigned to Rico Masterson's squad, Malachi's prized soldiers were Becka, Jude, and Sydney, with his Kaga Erised Hecate backing them up on reconnaissance and intelligence.
Erised…
Snape shook his head, and inhaled deeply although he knew by now the air wouldn't fill his lungs and give him peace. "So who were you thinking of now?" Diego asked, pulling out a gum and offering him one that was refused.
"Pardon?"
"You started shaking." The Reporter said, "For as long as I've known you, every time you remember something bad, you start shaking."
"You're very perceptive."
"It goes without saying in my line of work."
"I was thinking of Erised."
Diego's face fell for a moment. "Erised?" He asked, and then turned to study his paper. "Malachi's Companion? Why?"
"She was much more then Malachi's Companion." Snape ignored the look. He longed for release from the baggage he was carrying for so many years now and in the short time he had known Diego, he trusted him. There was innocent in the man's eyes, a dearly beloved ignorance to all the bad things, and all the sins of life. Diego lived his word, and knew nothing else. Simplicity and loyalty was written on his skin, and flowed through his veins like blood and in Snape's eyes, he could do no harm. Those who knew Snape as the feared Potions Master and defunct Dark Prince would laugh to see him dote on Diego, like some childhood friend long lost but now found and cherished. He showered Diego was attention, and in return, Diego was a loving confidant who could sit and listen to his war stories like a struck child.
This was the reason Severus gave no mind to Diego's questioning eyes and surprised expression.
"Erised was Malachi's eyes, ears and voice. She knew the inside and out of the Interrogation wing better then any of us who worked there and could run it with her eyes closed." Snape said proudly. "At any given point, there was over 60 Interrogators, with another 20 auxiliaries coming in and out, not to mention people like Amissa and Dahlia who worked in other departments as go-betweens and at any point, Erised could tell you everyone's name, alias and real, and where they were. God, she was amazing when it came to work."
"You sound like quite the admirer."
"I was smitten the first time I saw her," He admitted. "I knew I wanted her. I did a lot to get her too." He was smiling now, like a schoolboy.
"I know…" Diego said, uneasily. "She was engaged to Chaim Drame at the time you met her. Broke up that relationship inside a year of your arrival from what I hear."
"He didn't deserve her and it was eight months. Anyways, like I said, for as much as she knew, she could have ran the Wing and no one would have known."
"That sounds like an awful big amount of information she was privy to. No wonder…"
"Erised was Kaga. She lived and breathed Hecate. It was the Kaga's job to protect us."
"And who guards the guardians?" Diego said suddenly. He glanced up. "Rio Hecate was Kaga too, wasn't she?"
"Rio was different. She was a fanatic. She believed that her Kaga heritage gave her the power to determine what was wrong and right. A lot of other Kaga believed and followed her too. She believed that those who could take power should, and that those who didn't have it were only here to serve her. She wanted to bring about a sort of ethnic cleansing that would purge the magical community from all Mudbloods and half bloods. She brought us to our knees too. Her knowledge of Hecate kept her two steps ahead of us, not to mention her ability to win others to her cause. Not only did we fight her, but we had to worry about the werewolves too. During Rio's little coup-de-etat, she convinced the wolves to give us all kinds of trouble."
"How did it end?"
"A full frontal assault on her little hideout. A complete mess from start to finish too, we lost control of the situation within 20 minutes. I was personally beaten the crap out of…" Snape frowned a little at the memory. "Jude Remington, my squad fellow, saved my life…almost lost his because of it too." He shook his head. "Anyways, the house burned, and Rio was trapped inside, according to the report. Whatever follower she had were either arrested or killed…"
"She sounds like You-Know-Who."
"Doesn't it? But Rio was a good year and a half before he even appeared on our radar. My wing didn't even get intelligence reports on him till August of 73, three months before Billy died."
"Billy's death was the first major Death Eater related attack, wasn't it?"
"Yeah." Snape admitted, inhaling and shaking. "Because of the mole."
"The infamous Hecate mole." Diego said, leaning back. "He worked with you, right?"
"According to most people, I was the mole."
"But do you know who it really was?"
"I was told a long time ago that it was Judy." Snape allowed. "They said he was working for about six months before we even knew about Lord Voldemort. He arranged contacts with some of the top Death Eaters and was funneling information to pick off some of our boys before Billy. In fact, the case we were working on before his death involved top Slytherin businessmen, and a link to the vampires."
"So, the official version is that Remington started spying for the Dark Lord in December of 72." Diego said. He was scribbling on his pad fiercely now, doing math equations and tying them to other notes scripted in shorthand.
"Yes, that's true."
"And if the Dark Lord appeared in your reports eight months later." Diego looked up. "Something doesn't add up."
"What?"
"Well, you had just come off Rio's case six months prior, and Jude had almost gotten himself killed for you…don't you think it's a little odd that he suddenly became a spy for a villain so much like the one he just defeated? Why or what happened to warrant such treason? It is just…odd."
"Michael, I was beginning to think you didn't love us anymore."
Becka looked at the vampire descending the stairs with a feeling of elation. Simon, like all his kind, was immaculately built. Pale with crimson lips and dark kohl around his eyes, Simon looked in his early twenties although he was closer to eighty years. He was shorter then Becka but threw his frail arms around her and let her lift her and spin him around. She released him and smiled. "Come now, Simon. You know you're my family."
"Isaiah's been getting everyone ready for you. Delphi can't wait to see you."
"Then let's get this done, shall we?"
The hotel they were in was called The Grand Marquis and glittered with wealth and history. Magnificent Renaissance paintings leered down from the lobby's ceiling and seemed to mock the cheerful themes of music with their frozen, prefect faces. Becka's mud caked boots resounded in the huge rooms, and her coat swayed slightly around her. Unlike Simon's fine tailored robes, she was in muddied, soaking wet black and coming into a place as opulent as this made her acutely aware of the world she was traversing. They stepped into the elevator with another vampire, just as beautiful as Simon but twice his size with strong, thick timbers for arms that folded over his chest. He turned to Becka and spoke in a thick accent.
"Your wands, Michael."
Becka smiled and tilted her head. She knew this vampire to be named something ominous and monosyllabic like Raze or Bane. Throwing back her coat she pulled on the wands that rested on her waist like six shooters and handed them to him.
Simon was humming softly to himself. "All of them."
She squatted down and pulled the one from her boot, tossing it. "Keep that one close, Simon. It's my baby."
"What about the knife?" The big one asked.
The knife was little more then a dagger that had been reset and refashioned many times before. The old yew handle was capped by polished silver and the blade, also silver-plated had an iron heart. According to the myths of both Muggle and Magician believed the iron was said to be deadly to both Dark Wizards and Vampires, with silver for the Werewolves. The knife had first belonged to Jack the Ripper, and had been used in Day of the Dead to kill Sydney Van Ness and critically injure Erised Hecate. From there, Eoin Malone had used it to give the Dark Prince his scar. Lord Voldemort had given it to Saint Michael as a gift for information given that led to Day of the Dead. And from that day, it had never left her.
"The knife stays with me." She said, "Make sure I'm not given reason to use it."
"Give it to me or I will take it from you." He growled.
"Enough of these threats." Simon announced. "Let her keep it. Isaiah has never minded before." He pushed open the doors to the suite.
Inside were more plush furniture and the smell of a full dinner wafting in the air. Three beautiful women were closest to the door and stood, taking Becka into their arms in deep hugs. Becka smiled and relished in the comfort they gave her with their cold, dead arms and heartless chests. She allowed them to remove her coat and run icy hands through her thin hair and even laughed as they chastised her about her appearance. In the backroom, where she heard someone practicing a piano, she heard children laughing. It caused her voice to catch and when the door opened, she craned her head in to see.
Isaiah just smiled at her, blocking her view and closing the door behind her. "Do you hear him? Finally, he's getting better."
"I told you he would."
"I'm going to show him painting next. We're going to Paris for that."
"Vienna for music, Paris for art…what next, England for Theater?"
"Only the best for our son." Isaiah walked to her to hug her, but she stepped back. He frowned then, touched her chin with his thumb. "Can I hope you've come to your senses and are coming home?"
"I've come to talk about the alliance with Mordred…"
"Business then. Still, I ordered dinner for you. Get dress in something of Delphi's. I want to see the woman I cherish, and not this shell…" He raised his hand and flicked it at her.
"I'm not here to eat. Mordred's my only concern. You've broken your promise to me, you naughty little boy."
The leader of the vampires, turned to glare at her with his incredibly deep blue eyes that turned momentarily cold with ire. "Do not presume," He warned her. "That because I love you I will tolerance disrespect."
"I thought you needed a heart to love."
"And I always thought a soldier needed honor. You've proven me wrong, haven't you?"
"Fuck you, Isaiah." She said, angrily. She pushed away from the women and turned towards the windows. Twin angels cornered the top of the windows, framing the cityscape. The lights from the buildings glittered like hundreds of Christmas lights set against a dark blanket. She wondered if she stared long enough into the heavens could she be lost there.
He smiled at her and put his arms around her waist. "Actually, I have every intention of giving you that opportunity later tonight."
"Break your treaty with Ezra." She said, facing him but resting her hands behind her back. "Tell Mordred to fight his own war, and the vampires fear no one while Hecate herself quakes at the mere whisper of your power." Her hands fell to his chest. "Let Hecate and the Death Eaters kill themselves in more and more battles Isaiah. When it's all over, you'll be the only power standing."
"Why do you care so much about this, Michael? A continuance of this war will only make you more money."
"I'm not interested in the money anymore. Just us, Dante, you and me." She smiled at him, her hands tugging now on his belt. "I want to come home. But I want a home to come back too."
Isaiah's hands traced her shoulder blades, to her arms down to her wrists. He watched her fingers undo his pant buttons and he leaned down to kiss her gently. It took her a second for her to attempt to twist away but he was ready for this. He leaned closer to her neck, forcing deeper and drawing blood. Her body went slack in his arms.
It happened as quickly as a feeling of sound euphoria took over Becka's senses, that she was ripped from it. She felt tremors of pain shoot up threw her back as she landed on the floor and stared up at him.
"You're tainted." He seethed, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. He was staring at her with disbelief. "I can feel it in you. All this time, you've lied to me! The rumors are true then…"
"What rumors?"
"That you have lost your mind! I thought you gave up on that foolish quest years ago. It's over, the war is lost!"
Becka stood up again. She brushed a hand through her hair. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"What game do you think you're playing at?!"
"End this gamble with Ezra and Mordred or I will bury you all. Do you understand?" She said, crisply even though everything inside of her was screaming for her to be silent. She was forfeiting the only safety she had by this action. Her eyes were as cold and unfeeling, even as her mind was racing. Isaiah had more on her, then she could ever have on him and he knew that. Should he choose to, Isaiah could destroy her and never think twice about it. Yet, she was standing before him and making demands.
All because she trusted a Prodigal she knew would fail.
Isaiah was merely watching her, "Stay with me tonight, and I'll protect you. Walk, and you're alone."
Sighing, Becka walked to the door, picking up her coat.
Isaiah swung about and called after her, angrily. "Have you forgotten I own you? You're nothing without me! All those enemies that you've kept at bay for so long will come after you! You'll be powerless without me!"
She was trying desperately not to cry from the creeping fear that was rushing in place of her blood. Her neck was still bleeding and throbbing from pain. She was getting so very tired that her feet was trudging along with tenderness. She was losing her grip, and with this, she was probably ensuring everything that Isaiah was screaming at her. She just wanted to rest after all this time. She deserved that rest.
"Don't turn your back on everything you've worked so hard for," Isaiah warned but she still wasn't saying anything in return. He was going to lose her. "Erised, damn it turn around!"
Now summoned by her true name, Saint Michael turned and watched Isaiah with red eyes. "It's my fight."
"It's a fight you will lose."
"Have you ever thought for a moment that's what I'm hoping for? After all this time, all these lies and betrayals, maybe it's time I died."
"Why?"
"So I can explain to God why I killed Billy."