Part 5
Pain shot through her unexpectedly and Ice bolted upright. The blue haired girl before her jerked back in surprise for a few seconds before her black lips curved into a smile.
"That sleeping draught should have knocked you out for a week."
Ice looked around. She was in a none-descript box like room wit a single bed pushed against a wall. There was a bedside table with a lamp and a chest at the bottom of the bed. "Well it didn't." She grunted, rubbing her forehead, to her amazement feeling a line of stitches. "What the fuck are these? And who are you?"
The blue haired girl stood. She wore a tight red tube top and a long black satin skirt. "My name's Velvet," she answered, "I'm a witch. You got your ass kicked by some Daybreak freaks. We should have left you there to die. Apparently you have friends in high places." With that Velvet turned and walked away.
Ice didn't know what to say. She hadn't expected those freaks to be there. It had taken her three years to track Ivana Tempest down. As far as the bitch knew, Ice was dead. And that was exactly how she'd been planning the attack. She'd made her move - then everything had gone black.
Now she was waking up in some dump with a weird witch telling her she had friends in high places.
"Hey, wait up!" Ice swung her legs out of the bed, looking down at herself, seeing she was wearing a black shirt and black pants that didn't belong to her. Her brown-gold hair was tied back in a tight braid. Who the hell had /dressed/ her? Where were her own clothes?
Ice hurried down the stone floor, wondering what kind of place she was in. "Velvet?" she called out. Her voice echoed off the stone walls. The whole place felt like an ancient castle. Candelabras actually rested in recesses in the walls every now and then. The corridor was thin, seemed to be pressing in from all sides, but leading in an up direction. Ice came to a fork in the road. One road led to another dark corridor, the other to a large wooden door with brass handles.
Didn't take a genius to figure out which way to go, Ice thought as she headed for the door. She pushed it open, finding herself in a living room type place. Floor to ceiling bookshelves completely covered one wall, in the opposite one, a fire burned. The place had dark oak panelling and brown leather furniture.
"Someone's decided to join the living again - so to speak." A silky male voice sounded softly in Ice's left ear.
Ice remained still. She'd heard the other vampire come into the room, but decided to see how he would react to her. "So to speak," Ice echoed. She turned around to face him. The vampire was pale and typically Night Worldly attractive with a muscular build, marble pale skin. His eyes were the colour of grass in summer, his full lips were curved in an amused smile. Shoulder length curly blond hair glinted with bronze highlights in the ruddy glow from the fire. He was casually dressed in a white shirt open at the collar and blue jeans with a Gucci belt.
Ice didn't recognise him. "You want to tell me who the hell you are?"
"Drink?" He headed over to a table where a collection of bottles of various shapes and sizes were gathered. In a cabinet on the wall were different types of glasses.
"No thanks." Ice cast a glance around the room. "So - who are you?"
"Nathaniel Armstrong," he answered, standing by the drinks table, but not pouring himself anything.
Ice took a seat in a large leather reading chair, resting her feet on a glass coffee table. She had black socks on, but no shoes. "So, Nate, you wanna tell me what's going on here?"
"I'm returning a favour. You once saved the life of my younger brother, Jet."
Ice frowned. She had a vague memory of a guy called Jet she had dared - some two hundred years ago. She didn't exactly remember what had happened, nor did she recall saving his life. "Oh well." She shrugged. "How is Jet?"
"Dead. Too bad you weren't around a few months ago."
"Oh." Ice was starting to feel like a broken record. She hated repeating herself. But this guy was being stingy with his answers, giving out tid-bits of information, making her do all the guess work. Which wasn't getting her very far. How the hell was she supposed to recall every guy she'd dated over a five hundred year life span? "What happened?"
"A woman called Ivana Tempov happened." Nate's eyebrows raised meaningfully.
A scowl marred Ice's features. "That bitch. Is she dead?"
"No. We didn't see what happened to her."
"Who's we?"
"We...are part of a private group who report and work for various Council heads and other important people. We don't just deal with Night World issues."
"So you're the Secret Government," Ice smirked.
"Something like that. We'd like to offer you a contract to remove Ivana Tempov."
"A contract? You mean pay me to kill the bitch?" Ice's eyes rolled. "There's an original idea."
"Problem is," Nate's smile was feral, but the way he spoke - was like this whole scene was some kind of amusing game to him. His voice was pleasant yet disturbing at the same time. "We can't exactly let you leave here now you know about us. Not alive, anyway."
Ice didn't really /know/ anything. She should have guessed there was a catch. "Is that supposed to frighten me?" Who the hell did this asshole think he was? He may have a disturbing tone to his voice, but it took more than that and pretty boy looks and empty words to jerk her around. On the other hand, Ice mused, it wasn't really like she had much to live for on the outside. Not anymore, anyway. There's more to this, she thought. There has to be.
Ice was sure the Night World Council had all sorts of secret agents working for them, with different branches for each family (the Redferns in particular came to mind). She'd heard from friends who worked in some of these secret groups the Council was in disarray. The Millennium prophecies had never happened, the fourth Wild Power never found, so the Council had divided into those who thought the prophecies would be scrapped and those who still believed the end of the human world was nigh.
Ice didn't know what to think. She didn't know what was going on there, and since none of that prophetic crap really concerned her, she didn't exactly give a damn. Could she trust these secret government people? Probably not she thought, answering her own question, but what have I got to lose?
"Sure, what the hell," Ice said casually, standing up. "Anything to go on, or am I on my own here?"
Nate shook his head. A panel in the bookcase wall slid open to reveal another gorgeous guy, very similar in appearance to Nate, expect his blond hair was straight and almost white, and his eyes were a stunning violet. He had the same physique as Nate and the same marble pale, flawless skin. He was dressed in a black shirt with a pattern of tiny white squares, and black jeans.
"This is Paris Harman. He'll be working with you."
Pain shot through her unexpectedly and Ice bolted upright. The blue haired girl before her jerked back in surprise for a few seconds before her black lips curved into a smile.
"That sleeping draught should have knocked you out for a week."
Ice looked around. She was in a none-descript box like room wit a single bed pushed against a wall. There was a bedside table with a lamp and a chest at the bottom of the bed. "Well it didn't." She grunted, rubbing her forehead, to her amazement feeling a line of stitches. "What the fuck are these? And who are you?"
The blue haired girl stood. She wore a tight red tube top and a long black satin skirt. "My name's Velvet," she answered, "I'm a witch. You got your ass kicked by some Daybreak freaks. We should have left you there to die. Apparently you have friends in high places." With that Velvet turned and walked away.
Ice didn't know what to say. She hadn't expected those freaks to be there. It had taken her three years to track Ivana Tempest down. As far as the bitch knew, Ice was dead. And that was exactly how she'd been planning the attack. She'd made her move - then everything had gone black.
Now she was waking up in some dump with a weird witch telling her she had friends in high places.
"Hey, wait up!" Ice swung her legs out of the bed, looking down at herself, seeing she was wearing a black shirt and black pants that didn't belong to her. Her brown-gold hair was tied back in a tight braid. Who the hell had /dressed/ her? Where were her own clothes?
Ice hurried down the stone floor, wondering what kind of place she was in. "Velvet?" she called out. Her voice echoed off the stone walls. The whole place felt like an ancient castle. Candelabras actually rested in recesses in the walls every now and then. The corridor was thin, seemed to be pressing in from all sides, but leading in an up direction. Ice came to a fork in the road. One road led to another dark corridor, the other to a large wooden door with brass handles.
Didn't take a genius to figure out which way to go, Ice thought as she headed for the door. She pushed it open, finding herself in a living room type place. Floor to ceiling bookshelves completely covered one wall, in the opposite one, a fire burned. The place had dark oak panelling and brown leather furniture.
"Someone's decided to join the living again - so to speak." A silky male voice sounded softly in Ice's left ear.
Ice remained still. She'd heard the other vampire come into the room, but decided to see how he would react to her. "So to speak," Ice echoed. She turned around to face him. The vampire was pale and typically Night Worldly attractive with a muscular build, marble pale skin. His eyes were the colour of grass in summer, his full lips were curved in an amused smile. Shoulder length curly blond hair glinted with bronze highlights in the ruddy glow from the fire. He was casually dressed in a white shirt open at the collar and blue jeans with a Gucci belt.
Ice didn't recognise him. "You want to tell me who the hell you are?"
"Drink?" He headed over to a table where a collection of bottles of various shapes and sizes were gathered. In a cabinet on the wall were different types of glasses.
"No thanks." Ice cast a glance around the room. "So - who are you?"
"Nathaniel Armstrong," he answered, standing by the drinks table, but not pouring himself anything.
Ice took a seat in a large leather reading chair, resting her feet on a glass coffee table. She had black socks on, but no shoes. "So, Nate, you wanna tell me what's going on here?"
"I'm returning a favour. You once saved the life of my younger brother, Jet."
Ice frowned. She had a vague memory of a guy called Jet she had dared - some two hundred years ago. She didn't exactly remember what had happened, nor did she recall saving his life. "Oh well." She shrugged. "How is Jet?"
"Dead. Too bad you weren't around a few months ago."
"Oh." Ice was starting to feel like a broken record. She hated repeating herself. But this guy was being stingy with his answers, giving out tid-bits of information, making her do all the guess work. Which wasn't getting her very far. How the hell was she supposed to recall every guy she'd dated over a five hundred year life span? "What happened?"
"A woman called Ivana Tempov happened." Nate's eyebrows raised meaningfully.
A scowl marred Ice's features. "That bitch. Is she dead?"
"No. We didn't see what happened to her."
"Who's we?"
"We...are part of a private group who report and work for various Council heads and other important people. We don't just deal with Night World issues."
"So you're the Secret Government," Ice smirked.
"Something like that. We'd like to offer you a contract to remove Ivana Tempov."
"A contract? You mean pay me to kill the bitch?" Ice's eyes rolled. "There's an original idea."
"Problem is," Nate's smile was feral, but the way he spoke - was like this whole scene was some kind of amusing game to him. His voice was pleasant yet disturbing at the same time. "We can't exactly let you leave here now you know about us. Not alive, anyway."
Ice didn't really /know/ anything. She should have guessed there was a catch. "Is that supposed to frighten me?" Who the hell did this asshole think he was? He may have a disturbing tone to his voice, but it took more than that and pretty boy looks and empty words to jerk her around. On the other hand, Ice mused, it wasn't really like she had much to live for on the outside. Not anymore, anyway. There's more to this, she thought. There has to be.
Ice was sure the Night World Council had all sorts of secret agents working for them, with different branches for each family (the Redferns in particular came to mind). She'd heard from friends who worked in some of these secret groups the Council was in disarray. The Millennium prophecies had never happened, the fourth Wild Power never found, so the Council had divided into those who thought the prophecies would be scrapped and those who still believed the end of the human world was nigh.
Ice didn't know what to think. She didn't know what was going on there, and since none of that prophetic crap really concerned her, she didn't exactly give a damn. Could she trust these secret government people? Probably not she thought, answering her own question, but what have I got to lose?
"Sure, what the hell," Ice said casually, standing up. "Anything to go on, or am I on my own here?"
Nate shook his head. A panel in the bookcase wall slid open to reveal another gorgeous guy, very similar in appearance to Nate, expect his blond hair was straight and almost white, and his eyes were a stunning violet. He had the same physique as Nate and the same marble pale, flawless skin. He was dressed in a black shirt with a pattern of tiny white squares, and black jeans.
"This is Paris Harman. He'll be working with you."