"The Cockatrice has escaped you, maybe I should take up her company." He mused as the grin widened.
"Don't let Miho hear you say that." Micheal eyed the older man. "I think your getting close to cracking her."
"If they both are willing, I'll take'em both on!" He laughed as Micheal screwed up his face.
"You're such a womanizer, Cameron." Micheal looked uncomfortable in his spot
on the floor. "I'm telling Miho if you don't mind yourself." Amon rolled his eyes,
weren't they all too old for this.
"Just who are you?" Amon cut thier tiff short. "What intentions do you have with Miho, and what do you want with Robin?"
"Just a night or two with the empath. They make superb lovers...always know
how to please their partners..." He shrugged. "The Small Lady, though. Who knows?
Maybe I won't turn her over. Maybe I'll keep that one to myself for a while...maybe
longer." Hetook a step forward, placing himself so the slight breeze brought Amon's scent to him.
"She's obviously rejected you." Chuckling at the look on Amon's face, he
reached into his coat, pulling out a 45. Without emotion he aimed it at the dark haired man fifteen feet from him. When the shot rang out, Micheal flinched, Amon just stepped to the side. As though he had all the time in the world move out of the way. A look of displeasure crept across the Scotts'man's face. Amon just shook his head,
reached down and grabbed Micheal's shirt, hauling the boy to his feet, and half
dragging him out the door.
Micheal watched helplessly as the Wall O' Man began to fly towards them,
snarling in rage. But for all the running Cameron was doing, he never made it anywhere near the two retreating figures. Micheal was reminded of a scene in a movie Robin made him watch a long time ago. It had been in English, something about a king looking for a goblet of some kind of importance. He was chuckling to himself as Amon tossed him toward a dark, midnight blue, sport's car.
"What's so funny?" Amon asked, the tone registered to Micheal as a way of making him stop chortling and get on with the search. The boy sighed as he began typing on the laptop. He heard the dark ex-hunter sigh. "Who is this Cameron person?"
"Cameron MCcGee." Micheal started. "His partner Davide Tessitore and he, have been stationed here for the past 15 years, looking for this witch called Mephisto.
Who is some sort of ghost like witch."
"Who is quite dead, now." Amon murmered. Remembering the events earlier that day. So those are the two who chased us today, he mused to himself. "Why have we never heard or met up with them before? Never mind." He added at the look the hacker was giving him.
"Really? Should I make a note of that?"
"No. They'll know soon enough." If they don't now, Amon thought to himself.
"Go on."
Micheal just blinked. "How do they know Robin?"
"Lenore would know." Micheal said softly as he continued typing. "She lives
just a few blocks from here." A few blocks turned into Touko's old appartment building,
which then turned into Touko's apartment itself, remodeled. Walking in, he could
still detect Robin's sent eminating from her old room.
"Micheal, always glad to see you." Came a scratchy voice somewhere out of
veiw. Amon had to raise an eyebrow, he had to nearly bring his chin to his chest to
see her. Was she a midgit, or twevle? No more that five feet tall, and built
like a stick with breasts, small ones, but enough to give her a womanly form.
Her hair was straight and pale, and sort of scraggly, giving her a feral sort of look.
Her eyes were gray with traces of amber. She looked him up and down, then
turned to Micheal. "I've told you time and again, the silent type is what you
look for in a toy, nothing to be taken seriously."
"Oh, he's nothing serious." Micheal said as he walked past her, coy smile
playing on his face. Planting himself at the table, setting up his computer.
"Just a whim really. We need to find Robin. The Toy says she's lost." Amon
folded his arms across his chest and watched the pair banter...something was
definitely up with these two. Not to mention this twelve year old, 'Lenore'
smelled eerily similiar to that 'Cameron' person.
"Probably just got high and wandered off." Lenore's scratchy voice belied the humor that she tried to hold in check. Micheal just laughed.
"That sounds more like her than dissappearing." Micheal said between chortles.
Amon grimiced, how much more of this would he have to suffer through? He shook his head, and moved to sit at the couch. A steaming cup of coffee was placed in his hands by the palel, ragged woman.
"She did get high and wonder off," Amon said shortly. "Right after Mephisto died."
This did take the woman aback. Wandering in, he planted himself on the couch and continued to veiw the scene.
"Old Mephisto passed?" Her scratchy voice squeaked. "That is a problem"
she left the room only to return with an ancient tome in her hands. "Who then is the
Tower Guardian of the North?" She blinked, a frown crossed her face as she eyed
Amon.
"You smell like him..." She leaned uncomfortably close to him, took in his scent, and suddenly was walking away. Shaking her head muttering something about 'Thia'.
Micheal laughed happily, and stepped away from the computer. He looked at Amon as if to say 'Isn't she the best?'. The older man just shook his head as Micheal set himself down on the other couch.
"Hey, Lenore? What do you know about Robin?" Micheal called out as
the frail woman walked back in the room with a Thai stick lit and leaving it's heady sent trailing behind her. Her smile was serene and distant.
"She saved me." Her voice was soft for just a moment. But shaking herself,
she lit the stick. "Do you know why Witches who are stable are all stoners"
She asked in an absent way. Not waiting for an answere she continued, passing
the yummy stick first to
Micheal, then dropped to her back with her head in the blonde boy's lap. "We smoke it to calm the world around us. You see, every being projects it's feelings into the ether net all the time. As an Awakened, we are always patched into that very same ether."
She paused as Amon passed her the stick. "It's amazing how one special little flower can cover the mind. Not only as a cushion, but as a veil. Our thoughts, our emotions are just ours when we are stoned. We don't have to be bogged down with everything else's hurts, and angers in this state." She rolled over and looked Amon in the eyes, full on. Her gaze was hard to keep, it almost hurt, the power of it almost overwhelming.
"Only you can find her, only you can know where she is. You better hurry,
Cameron is determind. He wants to be her consort." She rolled back over, watching
Micheal take another toke, passing it to the other man. "Only the Paths through the North are safe to move through to the South. Just as East to West. You better hurry, you were lucky with Cameron last time...he is very close now." She tossed her keys at him, never taking her eyes off Micheal's. Taking that as his que, he was out the door, not looking back. Just as the door closed, locked behind him, he could hear the sounds of a woman being pleasured.
Micheal was in the throw of things, Lenore's nails in his waist and scratching higher as she shrieked with pleasure, when the door was almost busted in with a fist that sounded as though it weighed a tone. He released as the door really was busted in. Gasping he dropped happily across her, believing in her skills as a witch to defend him from the monster who now scowled down at them.
"You have no tact, brother." Lenore murmered, pleased enough for the moment.
"One of these days, I'm gonna be angry with you. Or worse, me mate here will be." All she got was a deeper scowl, heavy arms crossed against his chest. He stalked toward the room where Robin once slept. Took a deep whiff, and turned to the lovers as they got up off the floor. Lenore took a deep toke, and passed it to a grinning Micheal.
"And just what would happen if your mate decided to be angry with your dear older brother?" He was hissing with anticipation. The smell of sex, and the last traces of scent left by the green eyed blonde was making his head spin. "Stop bogarting."
"No. I would have to kill you, not just scar you." She eyed the man and he
backed up a few steps. "You were there for her birth, she didn't Recognize
you. She's not yours. I'm not helping you." Lenore went back to sprawling
across Micheal's lap, her skirts still around her thighs. Hissing, the man
threw himself out the door, and down the hall. Her scratchy voice grated his
spine. Since when did Lenore stop being his sweet, obliging little sister?
When did she start simpathizing with people not in the Family. His foggy brain
told him it was her mate's fault. Of course, he couldn't move against that, so
he would just have to kill off the competion without her help. Which was going
to be hard.
He paused when he saw her car pull out of the parking lot. This Amon was not as good as everyone thought he was. But then, it is hard to escape a well trained Craft User...or is the new preferred term 'Witch' now? Rebellious youths. He shook his head as he picked up spead, and lunged onto the car. Slamming the engine block into the ground. Making a good chuck of it a permenant peice of concrete. The look on his rival's face was priceless, Cameron could only grin manically.
Nagira inhaled his cigerette with more vigor. Letting it hang slightly as he
thought heavily over the contents of the book. Taking another long drag, he began to
shake his head. It was a journal. Six thousand years of personal experience. Putting
the butt out in a soda can, Shunji shook his head. Six thousand years of proof that
the Emperor himself could not aurgue with. His contacts in the World Court would
be cumming themselves if they knew what he held in his sweaty palms. Lighting
another, he wondered if he should tell Amon about the bits of Family history,
of Robin's family history.
The ancient gods and goddess, long turned to myth, were real. Paintings, and
wood carvings of the Old Ones had their place in this tome. Robin's face was drawn
with a name that only made sense when he thought about it. Rhiannon. Apartantly,
Robin was a direct decendant of the ancient goddess. Queen of the Underworld,
Lady of bird and horses, a Moon Goddess of old. Amon's face was in the Egyptian section. Horus. Odd, Nagira thought to himself, never really picturing himself as a decendant of a god of Truth...though quite fitting. Both have birds in common. His father said something interesting. He'd called Robin a Cockatrice.
Sitting up suddenly, he thumbed the pages until he found the image and name in question. A dragon-like bird. Breathed fire like a dragon, but feathered like a bird. A guardian of South. Fierce and independant, but entirely devoted to a single mate.Nagira raised an eyebrow. Would that make Amon a flying donkey?
Damn, he thought, just when I was getting my hopes up. Putting the second butt in as many minutes out in the soda can, he lit another one. Mentally taking the cutie blonde's clothing off. Robin's face melted into Dojima's, forcing him to really grin, nearly dropping the lit cigarette on his shirt. He jumped to his feet, wrapped the book back up in the silk he lifted from his father's and headed back to the house. He needed to keep this safe until he could think clearly. He needed to eat, sleep and more importantly, get laid. To bad this spacial jumping thing didn't work on leaving this house, Nagira thought to himself as he pulled into the driveway. Must remember to raz Amon about filling this place with the pitter-patter of many little feet. Chuckling at the image of his aloof brother the caring father of a hord of green eyed children.
Amon could only blink at the interruption. The wrecking ball of wrath had sprung
out of no where. No Robin at his side to save him, or distract the enraged individual.
Not this time. He grinned, back at the grinning death mask before him. Time to see
what he could do, for real. He concentrated and let his eyes slide closed. Putting
all his faith and trust in himself for once, he felt himself slide from the sene. He could
hear the howl of rage at his escape. Opening his eyes, he stood with his back against a tree thirty feet behind the man-doom. This was going to be to the death, he
suddenly realized. This was going to be the first time he REALLY kills someone. Kate
just got hauled off to the Factory, just as all the other witches he Hunted. He checked
the pistol at his ribs. The Orbo was still active, he grinned at himself. Reluctant to
use something so natural as the magic that had just awakened within him to take down another human being. Even a crazed one such as Cameron...Amon checked to see how many bullets he had...Maybe he didn't have to kill this guy after all. Maybe he
could get a way with a near fatal wound? Grinning even wider, he leaned causally against the tree, just watching. Realizing the decided advantage he had gained at Lenore's.
The other man stuck his nose in the air, getting a mighty sniff. His prey has
partook recently, no emotion emulated from anywhere in particular realation to this
fight. Cameron had to use less fancy methods to track the smaller man's actions.
Catching the scent he whirled to find the impudant imposer smirking against a nearby
tree. This is it, Cameron thought angerily to himself. Without taking his eyes off his
target, he pulled the lines of manna into himself.
His breath quickened as the surge overcame him. Only his most primal insticts
had sway now. His jaw itched, and lengthened. His back arched as it stretched,
and his knees buckled, then bent backward. He dug claws through what was left of the metal hood as his feet began to digigrade. He howled as the transformation was
complete, his mind was a little more his own agian, and he sniffed the air. Still no
fear. He lowered his lupine head and loosed a growl, raising the hackles on his back to
make himself bigger, though, now he outweighed the humaniod by a few hundered
pounds. His snarl deepened as there was still no trace of fear. That smirk was still
spread across the pale face.
Unable to take it any longer, the werewolf form of Cameron sprang forward,
Only to miss his target, and break the tree trunk in half. Halfway to the next block,
Amon leaned against another tree, unmoved in a most irritating way. Springing
again, again, Cameron missed. Growling with rage, he began a large circle. Just watching, waiting for any tell tale sign of a next move. Weed didn't last forever, sooner or later, it would wear off. Once it did, the scrawny punk was done for. So. Growling, he circled back. He could wait.
Micheal tapped away at his laptop, digging up what ever he could find on this Mephisto person in the Solomon data banks. Lenore was giggling over an episode of 'Invader Zim' still sprawled on the floor. Skirt still mostly around her waist than doing it's purpose. He sighed, still no luck.
"Hey. Has Cameron been through here?" Davide's smooth voice ventured from doorway.
"Yeah." Lenore's scratchy one replied, though her eyes never left the television set.
"Do you mind fixing that? Micheal's busy, and I don't want to be bothered."
"Sure." The sound of wood remending, of metal remembering it's previous shape.
"What had him in a tizzy?" This dragged Lenore's attention from the cartoon alien.
"Attempting the impossible. Mephisto's son has inheirited the family business."
Micheal stopped typing and looked at her for a moment. Davide wandered in with a shrug, lit a joint, passed it to Micheal.
"You Changlings are SO predictable." Davide handed the joint to Lenore as Micheal handed it back. Moving to watch the cartoon on the couch. Micheal returned to his tapping, pausing again for the passing of the joint.
"I've a fiver on Micheal's Man-Toy." Lenore's comment was offhandish.
"I thought you were his toy." A claw swiped Davide's face drawing blood, the typing stopped again. Lenore had her fangs bared, and her right had deformed to accomodate the claws.
"Appologize." Micheal said absently, going back to his typing. "I'd hate to make Robin burn your lifeless corpse. Especially since we haven't seen her in such a long time."
He kept the roach to himself, smoking the last he could as he continued his efforts. "not to mention blood stains EVERYTHING on a rather permanant basis."
"I'm very sorry." Davide murmered, wiping blood off his face.
"Get out and I won't kill you." Lenore hissed. With a sigh, the man complied.
Muttering something about a ten spot on the werewolf. Lenore just grunted and
returned to her normal shape. Micheal stopped again, this time kicking away from the table and turning to her.
"Can I ask you something?" He said after a moment of taking in her countance.
She smiled and nodded, sauntering over to him in a sultry sort of way.
"Now that the days weirdness is over, do you mind telling me why you never clean Robin's old room?"
"It's my last connection to her." She passed a hand through his hair. Her sharp nails scratching across his scalp, sending chills though his body. Sighing, he grabbed her hips and burried his head in her slight cleavage. "It's only dawn, love. Why do you think the weirdness is over?"
"Normally, things go pretty smoothly for a while after you threaten Davide"
He found his mouth full of breast covered in thin fabric.
"I AM gonna kill that guy one of these days..." She sighed in pleasure, she'd never liked that him from the start. Cameron didn't care what company he kept, so long as they were useful to him in some way. "Today is not that day, and tomorrow doesn't look good either." Micheal murmered in a most distracted sort of way. Lenore suddenly found herself topless, she raised an eyebrow with approval. Micheal put one arm around her waist, got a mouth full of breast and sent his fingers to explore her soft pantiless self under her skirt. She let her head lull back and moaned. Mentally thanking the gods for the young man's libedo.
Cameron's body smashed against the rundown building. Ending up somewhere on
the thrid floor. Raising himself to his four legs, he shook himself at the searing
pain. Ignore the frightened looks on the faces of the inhabitants. All were witches,
his keen sense of smell told him as much. But no where near his own level, nor his
quarries. He growled to himself for the miscalculation. A pure blood, or bloody close.
He sprung forward, this must seem like a clash of titans to these poor, tired mish mash
of his race. However marginally better, it was still better that two of them finished
their fight out of sight of the normal humans. His body slammed against another wall, not as hard as the last hit. His prey was slowing down."The weed's gonna wear off soon!' He howled, "you can't keep this up, newbie!" He heard a lighter spark, and ran for the sound. Reaching it just in time to slam HIM into a wall...or through several, as it turned out. Triumph raised in his throat, no one could out power him in close combat. Such triumph was short lived though as a white hot pain, followed by a slow, sickening posioning began to still his body. The shot rang out again, the pain and posion spread faster untill he couldn't move. He hissed as his body could no longer hold the manna lines in place. He wanted to curse, to shout. Or bite something. His prey was walking
away, and he was unable to continue the fight. A conversation with the locals
that his brain couldn't register, and the scent of his rival was gone. Now he
just wanted to bite something OFF. Darkness took his mind, releasing him from
his pain for the moment.