Disclaimer: All the Nightworld concepts, ideas, names, basically
anything you recognize belongs to L.J. Smith. I've just created a few
characters to stick into the Nightworld.
Hey all! This is just a little post to let you know I'm still alive, and perhaps more importantly, still writing. I know I've been horrible with the updating but my life's been surprisingly hectic. I know you've heard it before, but, I'll try to do better next time, really.
annemarie delacour: I hate unfinished stories, so I definitely intend to continue mine. It's just that I get a wee bit occupied in other things and writing gets pushed aside, but I'm trying to fix that. Here's to regular updates, and by the end all your questions will hopefully be answered.
amber-rules: Hooray! I almost made you cry and not because it sucks! 'Update' is a word that makes me cringe with guilt, because I know I don't do it nearly often enough. This time I even had to go back and skim through it all to figure out what's happened. But the story goes on! Slowly (ok, extremely slowly), but surely.
A/N: My first L.J. Smith fanfic so all thoughts would be truly, madly appreciated.
Rated PG-13
Yesterdays: Chapter 7
She didn't have to try to forgive him, Sibyl reminded herself. She just had to convince him that she would. "Thorne, please. We can make it work."
He appeared to be thinking it over, coming to some kind of a decision, when the phone rang. Damn it! She'd almost had him, she knew it. With a slight shake of his head he answered the phone. "Redfern here."
Sibyl struggled to put aside all the hatred that name evoked. She couldn't think about that now. She had to stay clear headed. Later, when this was over she could let the rage boil through her, but not now. Now she had to focus, search for clues that would help her understand and deceive the deceiver.
His voice was the calm lull of the sea, if the sea were coated with ice. "I gave you one instruction. One, very basic instruction."
How happy she was, not to be on the other side of that phone. She felt a stab of pity for the poor soul who was as she caught a murmur of frenzied babble coming through. Then she reminded herself that it was likely one of Thorne's employees, and thereby a monster undeserving of her pity.
"So, kill him," was Thorne's easy reply when the babbling ended. No, best she save her pity for herself. After all, she was the one with a soulmate who ordered deaths the way most people ordered takeout. If he ever found out about this mission there'd be pieces of her topping his pizza. Sibyl struggled to keep her expression serene. No way was she going to let that happen. This mission had to go smoothly. She hadn't been as prepared as she'd thought. She'd let him goad her, gave him the upper hand, but not anymore - too much was depending on this.
Thorne hung up the phone but rather than resume their conversation he turned to the papers on his desk. The sudden, unexpected quiet strained her senses, heightening her awareness of him, slowly driving her mad as the minutes ticked by. Finally, when she could stand it no more, she spoke his name. "Thorne."
He looked up, and sounded vaguely startled as he asked, "You're still here?"
Sibyl glared at him, forgetting her vow to stay in control, wanting only to pummel him for being able to ignore her. "We have to talk," she bit out.
The look on his face bespoke annoyance. "I have a business to run."
"You own the place. Delegate." When he appeared to be about to protest she gave him a throaty reminder, designed to take him back to steamy days long past. "It wouldn't be the first time."
"True, but, I learn from my mistakes."
Her cheeks burned at that and she started to rise. Mission or no, there were only so many insults a girl could take. "I see," she said, barely recognizing the horrible voice that came out as her own.
"You don't."
Sibyl looked back at him and for a split second she saw something foreign in his eyes that convinced her to sit back down.
"I can't delegate," he explained, "there's no one I trust."
She rolled her eyes. "Again with the trust thing. You've gotten positively paranoid since I saw you last." And then, because she couldn't resist, "remnants of a guilty conscience, perchance?"
"I think you've mistaken me for someone who cares," Thorne drawled out.
"Never that," she said with complete sincerity. "I too learn from my mistakes."
"So why are you here, again?"
"Because you're my soulmate. My other half." She gave him a musing smile. "Kind of like having an evil twin."
"Hey!" he protested. "I'm much too attractive to be your twin."
She carried on as though he hadn't spoken, "We're bound together, like it or not."
"Not," he grumbled. "Definitely, not."
"I agree," Sibyl said sweetly, "but it doesn't change anything."
Thorne heaved a sigh, as though this was all too annoying for words. After a couple of minutes passed, she worried he was going to return to his paperwork as before but finally he said, "You're serious about this?"
She nodded.
He shoved a hand through his golden hair. "I really do have to get back to work." She started to protest but he continued, "Dinner, tonight. Seven o' clock. I'll pick you up."
Owen was in the middle of explaining the second rule of the Nightworld when his mobile rang. Under normal circumstances that would be, well, a normal circumstance. However, Owen's phone never rang in normal circumstances. There were only two people alive who had his number, and neither one of them were people he wanted calling.
So, he excused himself from the table and searched for a more private corner, not noticing the dismay on the vampire's face as he worried that Owen might not return.
The witch found a secluded table in one corner of the room and flipped open his phone.
"You're girlfriend's here," was all the greeting he was given.
Owen was torn between relief that the call was nothing urgent and fear for Sybil. He tried to keep both out of his voice. "Called to brag?"
"Please. As though she's worth bragging about. No, I just thought I'd give you a piece of advice."
Owen gave a snort of disbelief. "Advice? How charitable of you. You feeling alright there, cuz?"
"You need to keep her on a tighter leash."
Owen scowled. Thorne would say something like that. "She's not a dog."
"I beg to differ."
"Beg all you like – it doesn't change facts."
Thorne laughed, rather than take offense as Owen had hoped. "Now, now, play nice or I won't tell you why I called."
"I couldn't possibly be so lucky," the witch grumbled.
"See, now you're making me not want to tell you."
Owen gave a sigh. This was the conversation he'd switched tables to have? "You're wasting my minutes. Do you know how much Verizon charges these days?"
"Circle Daybreak not paying you well?"
Owen frowned. Not because it was true (although it was) but the fact that Thorne knew about Daybreak. He didn't know why he was surprised. Of course Thorne would know. Thorne knew everything. Thorne had everything. It was almost enough to make a man bitter, that.
But the effect was discharged when Thorne added, "You know you always have a job here." The words were said lightly but Owen knew he meant them. And was touched in spite of himself.
But that wasn't information he planned on sharing with his cousin. "Thanks. Now what do you want?"
"How rude." Owen couldn't help but smile at the pretend sniff that came across the line. "And when I'm calling to save your pathetic ass." Thorne's voice became suddenly serious as he added, "You might want to watch your back. There are some assassins after you. Courtesy of your new friend."
"Nameless? That's ridiculous," Owen scoffed. "I just met the man. It usually takes a few hours before someone starts sending people to kill me."
"Oh, he's not the one who ordered the hit. I had that pleasure."
Owen made a face at the plant next to him. "So call it off."
"I can't." Owen raised an eyebrow. Thorne Redfern admitting he couldn't do something? Where was the tape recorder when you needed it? "The boy wasn't supposed to talk to any witches," Thorne continued. "The hit was ordered before I knew you were the witch he talked to. You would be the witch he talked to," Thorne muttered. "Didn't Aunt Sarah teach you not to talk to strangers? Anyway, I can't call it off now. Wouldn't do to show favoritism."
Owen rolled his eyes. Politics. "That explains the warning," he said dryly.
"I pay my debts. And this one was long outstanding."
Owen shook his head at his cousin's strange code of honor understanding instantly the debt Thorne was referring to. "You don't owe me anything. And incidentally," he couldn't help but add, "if you did, this would be a really sucky way to pay me back. Informing me that you've told someone to kill me? Are you even going to tell me who's after me? Or what the deal is with Nameless?"
A/N: Reviews are better than ice cream (which is saying a lot cuz it's really hot here), so please review, and I'll be forever grateful.
Hey all! This is just a little post to let you know I'm still alive, and perhaps more importantly, still writing. I know I've been horrible with the updating but my life's been surprisingly hectic. I know you've heard it before, but, I'll try to do better next time, really.
annemarie delacour: I hate unfinished stories, so I definitely intend to continue mine. It's just that I get a wee bit occupied in other things and writing gets pushed aside, but I'm trying to fix that. Here's to regular updates, and by the end all your questions will hopefully be answered.
amber-rules: Hooray! I almost made you cry and not because it sucks! 'Update' is a word that makes me cringe with guilt, because I know I don't do it nearly often enough. This time I even had to go back and skim through it all to figure out what's happened. But the story goes on! Slowly (ok, extremely slowly), but surely.
A/N: My first L.J. Smith fanfic so all thoughts would be truly, madly appreciated.
Rated PG-13
Yesterdays: Chapter 7
She didn't have to try to forgive him, Sibyl reminded herself. She just had to convince him that she would. "Thorne, please. We can make it work."
He appeared to be thinking it over, coming to some kind of a decision, when the phone rang. Damn it! She'd almost had him, she knew it. With a slight shake of his head he answered the phone. "Redfern here."
Sibyl struggled to put aside all the hatred that name evoked. She couldn't think about that now. She had to stay clear headed. Later, when this was over she could let the rage boil through her, but not now. Now she had to focus, search for clues that would help her understand and deceive the deceiver.
His voice was the calm lull of the sea, if the sea were coated with ice. "I gave you one instruction. One, very basic instruction."
How happy she was, not to be on the other side of that phone. She felt a stab of pity for the poor soul who was as she caught a murmur of frenzied babble coming through. Then she reminded herself that it was likely one of Thorne's employees, and thereby a monster undeserving of her pity.
"So, kill him," was Thorne's easy reply when the babbling ended. No, best she save her pity for herself. After all, she was the one with a soulmate who ordered deaths the way most people ordered takeout. If he ever found out about this mission there'd be pieces of her topping his pizza. Sibyl struggled to keep her expression serene. No way was she going to let that happen. This mission had to go smoothly. She hadn't been as prepared as she'd thought. She'd let him goad her, gave him the upper hand, but not anymore - too much was depending on this.
Thorne hung up the phone but rather than resume their conversation he turned to the papers on his desk. The sudden, unexpected quiet strained her senses, heightening her awareness of him, slowly driving her mad as the minutes ticked by. Finally, when she could stand it no more, she spoke his name. "Thorne."
He looked up, and sounded vaguely startled as he asked, "You're still here?"
Sibyl glared at him, forgetting her vow to stay in control, wanting only to pummel him for being able to ignore her. "We have to talk," she bit out.
The look on his face bespoke annoyance. "I have a business to run."
"You own the place. Delegate." When he appeared to be about to protest she gave him a throaty reminder, designed to take him back to steamy days long past. "It wouldn't be the first time."
"True, but, I learn from my mistakes."
Her cheeks burned at that and she started to rise. Mission or no, there were only so many insults a girl could take. "I see," she said, barely recognizing the horrible voice that came out as her own.
"You don't."
Sibyl looked back at him and for a split second she saw something foreign in his eyes that convinced her to sit back down.
"I can't delegate," he explained, "there's no one I trust."
She rolled her eyes. "Again with the trust thing. You've gotten positively paranoid since I saw you last." And then, because she couldn't resist, "remnants of a guilty conscience, perchance?"
"I think you've mistaken me for someone who cares," Thorne drawled out.
"Never that," she said with complete sincerity. "I too learn from my mistakes."
"So why are you here, again?"
"Because you're my soulmate. My other half." She gave him a musing smile. "Kind of like having an evil twin."
"Hey!" he protested. "I'm much too attractive to be your twin."
She carried on as though he hadn't spoken, "We're bound together, like it or not."
"Not," he grumbled. "Definitely, not."
"I agree," Sibyl said sweetly, "but it doesn't change anything."
Thorne heaved a sigh, as though this was all too annoying for words. After a couple of minutes passed, she worried he was going to return to his paperwork as before but finally he said, "You're serious about this?"
She nodded.
He shoved a hand through his golden hair. "I really do have to get back to work." She started to protest but he continued, "Dinner, tonight. Seven o' clock. I'll pick you up."
Owen was in the middle of explaining the second rule of the Nightworld when his mobile rang. Under normal circumstances that would be, well, a normal circumstance. However, Owen's phone never rang in normal circumstances. There were only two people alive who had his number, and neither one of them were people he wanted calling.
So, he excused himself from the table and searched for a more private corner, not noticing the dismay on the vampire's face as he worried that Owen might not return.
The witch found a secluded table in one corner of the room and flipped open his phone.
"You're girlfriend's here," was all the greeting he was given.
Owen was torn between relief that the call was nothing urgent and fear for Sybil. He tried to keep both out of his voice. "Called to brag?"
"Please. As though she's worth bragging about. No, I just thought I'd give you a piece of advice."
Owen gave a snort of disbelief. "Advice? How charitable of you. You feeling alright there, cuz?"
"You need to keep her on a tighter leash."
Owen scowled. Thorne would say something like that. "She's not a dog."
"I beg to differ."
"Beg all you like – it doesn't change facts."
Thorne laughed, rather than take offense as Owen had hoped. "Now, now, play nice or I won't tell you why I called."
"I couldn't possibly be so lucky," the witch grumbled.
"See, now you're making me not want to tell you."
Owen gave a sigh. This was the conversation he'd switched tables to have? "You're wasting my minutes. Do you know how much Verizon charges these days?"
"Circle Daybreak not paying you well?"
Owen frowned. Not because it was true (although it was) but the fact that Thorne knew about Daybreak. He didn't know why he was surprised. Of course Thorne would know. Thorne knew everything. Thorne had everything. It was almost enough to make a man bitter, that.
But the effect was discharged when Thorne added, "You know you always have a job here." The words were said lightly but Owen knew he meant them. And was touched in spite of himself.
But that wasn't information he planned on sharing with his cousin. "Thanks. Now what do you want?"
"How rude." Owen couldn't help but smile at the pretend sniff that came across the line. "And when I'm calling to save your pathetic ass." Thorne's voice became suddenly serious as he added, "You might want to watch your back. There are some assassins after you. Courtesy of your new friend."
"Nameless? That's ridiculous," Owen scoffed. "I just met the man. It usually takes a few hours before someone starts sending people to kill me."
"Oh, he's not the one who ordered the hit. I had that pleasure."
Owen made a face at the plant next to him. "So call it off."
"I can't." Owen raised an eyebrow. Thorne Redfern admitting he couldn't do something? Where was the tape recorder when you needed it? "The boy wasn't supposed to talk to any witches," Thorne continued. "The hit was ordered before I knew you were the witch he talked to. You would be the witch he talked to," Thorne muttered. "Didn't Aunt Sarah teach you not to talk to strangers? Anyway, I can't call it off now. Wouldn't do to show favoritism."
Owen rolled his eyes. Politics. "That explains the warning," he said dryly.
"I pay my debts. And this one was long outstanding."
Owen shook his head at his cousin's strange code of honor understanding instantly the debt Thorne was referring to. "You don't owe me anything. And incidentally," he couldn't help but add, "if you did, this would be a really sucky way to pay me back. Informing me that you've told someone to kill me? Are you even going to tell me who's after me? Or what the deal is with Nameless?"
A/N: Reviews are better than ice cream (which is saying a lot cuz it's really hot here), so please review, and I'll be forever grateful.