Chapter 9
Warning: I am going to slap an 'R' rating on this particular chapter. 00 It gets a little gory in parts.
A very large boulder sitting along the riverbank blocked Jill's path. Stupid rock. Not to be outdone, she made her way around it.
And nearly collided with a most unusual young woman going the opposite direction.
Jill froze instantly. " Oh, sorry, I didn't see you there."
The young woman laughed. " S'alright. You lost? "
Jill took a moment answering. The young woman--she looked no older than 25, maybe--had bright pink hair done up in spikes with an earring hanging from the top of each point, multiple ear and body piercings, and a spiked collar. Her body was coated in a wide array of tattoos...the portions of it that weren't overlapped by confining red leather pants or a shirt that most certainly must have made breathing a real chore.
It was a case of classic shock. She didn't want to stare, but at the same time she couldn't look away. What in the name of all things holy is a woman like this doing on a stormy tropical island out in the middle of nowhere?!
The girl looked fresh from a gang of New York hardcore punks.
" Lost? " Jill blinked, like she didn't know the meaning of the word, " Yes, actually. I got separated from my friends when that freak storm hit. Have you seen anyone else? Especially two little kids? "
The strange stranger cocked a ring-studded eyebrow, processing. It was a motion that made Jill a tad nervous.
Was it just her, or was this woman a little too pale?
" Can't say that I have." The tattooed woman shook her head slowly, seeming unfazed by the cold weather. " Name's Olivia, by the way." She offered her hand.
Jill just stared at it. Something about this weirdo didn't feel quite right. All her better instincts told her to have as little association as possible with this new person. Besides, anyone who's that much of a fashion-victim obviously has issues. Olivia needed a makeover, and bad.
" Go ahead, grab it. I don't bite." Olivia sounded mildly insulted.
Well, at least she's company, Jill reasoned, shaking Olivia's outstretched palm.
It was deathly cold.
" I'm Jill."
" Ah. Well Jill, I know where some shelter is. My friends and I have a nice warm fire built."
" Your friends? "
" Yeah. Three guys and another girl. We were stranded on this island a few hours ago when the storm blew us off-course and capsized our motorboat. We found a safe place to camp; an indentation in the side of a steep cliff. Problem was, I went out to investigate a strange noise I heard and got turned around." She laughed for effect, " Now I don't know weather I'm coming or going! Maybe the two of us together would have better luck finding the camp, 'ey? " Her toothy grin seemed very out of place.
Jill didn't trust her a bit. She's acting way too weird. How can you go out to investigate a noise and get so utterly lost that you can't remember where your shelter is at? It was very possible the girl was mentally unstable; a retard or a fruitloop. But if she had friends, and she herself was anything less than sane, why would they let her just wander out like that after noises? Furthermore, why weren't they calling out for her? The story had holes. Being the S.T.A.R.S. intelligence for a reason, Jill saw this, recognized it. And she had every reason to be suspicious.
However, Olivia was right about at least one thing, and that was that it was not a very good idea to be out gallivanting alone. Plus it was someone to talk to.
" Sure." Jill tried to sound as friendly as possible despite the uneasy feeling in her stomach, " Do you remember the general direction at least? "
Olivia paused, and Jill swore she saw the girl lick the corner of her lips. " Yeah. I think it's over that way." She pointed a finger down the river in the exact direction from which Jill had just come.
Red flags went up in Jill's head. Something was wrong. She backed up just a step ever so slightly, casting the pink-haired renegade a wary eye. " But...I just came down that way. There's nothing down there but jungle. And you were coming from that direction." She pointed a finger straight ahead along the trail she'd been following.
Olivia drew back her cherry-red lips into an unsettling grin, her pale skin seeming almost ghost-like in the moonlight. " You are a sharp one, aren't you? " She started forward, a hungry look in her now almost feral eyes.
" What's...what's wrong with you? " Jill stammered, wishing she had a weapon handy. There was something so wrong about this girl and the looks she kept receiving from her, " Look, whatever it is, maybe I could help? "
A desperate stab at reasoning.
Olivia laughed softly. It was a creepy, evil sound. " Believe it or not, you can! " She ducked her head and lunged, swift as an arrow, and jabbed Jill in the stomach with her elbow. The S.T.A.R.S. member collided with the ground.
" What are you doing?! " Jill lashed out with her hand in an attempt to catch Olivia in the face, but the punk girl caught her wrist and straddled her, crushing her other arm with her knee.
" Come on Jilly, we just want a piece of ya! " Olivia then did something completely unexpected. She lowered her head and bit Jill's captive arm just below the wrist. Hard.
Jill cried out in pain. Her arm felt as if it were being held in the teeth of a steel-jaw trap! She flailed her legs and tried to buck her assailant off. No such luck. However, she did manage to free her other arm.
Her fist flew up...only to be smacked back to the dirt by Olivia's hand.
She was so strong! Inhumanly strong, in fact.
" Stop! Please stop! " Jill begged. The plea for mercy was ignored. Olivia bit all the harder.
Blood welled up around the prank girl's lips in a deep red puddle. She seemed to revel it. Jill tried to pull free, but Olivia chose that moment to jerk her head up with a vicious twist that ripped a chunk of Jill's arm off in her mouth.
This was too much. The redheaded S.T.A.R.S. member had never experienced such sheer, raw agony before. Pain! The pain was unbearable! The signals shot through her veins in fiery ribbons of anguish, snaking their way to her brain where they screamed of a terrible injury. When she glimpsed her arm and saw that a large piece of it was missing, leaving a bloody mess of tissue and ligaments with a gleam of something white...she fought the urge to throw up.
Bone! The crazy girl had bitten right down to the bone!
She could only watch in horror and disgust as Olivia swallowed her gory treat. " Mmmm, tasty." The spike-haired woman traced her tongue over her lower lip, licking up every last stubborn spot of blood. " Coulda used a little salt though."
Jill struggled madly and was rewarded with a sharp slap in the face. " Tut tut. It's time for the carving. You can scream if you want."
And Jill did scream when her attacker reached into one of those tight leather pockets and produced a wicked-looking hunting knife. One of those all-purpose cutlery made for skinning deer and gutting ducks or trout. The balde glinted silver in the moonlight. Jill helped herself to another high-pitched scream, hoping that somewhere one of her teammates would hear her and come to her aid. Omigod, she's one of those crazy killer cannibals and now she wants to chop me into more bite-sized pieces!
The knife came down.
Summoning every last ounce of strength woven into the very fiber of her being, and ignoring the searing torment in her right arm, Jill managed to catch the knife on it's descent; the blade sheathed between both hands. However, that alone would not be enough to prolong her life for more than three seconds. It was time for a plan B, and fast.
With no other obvious solution in sight, and seconds away from a grisly death, Jill risked freeing one of her hands for a fraction of a second. She made up for the lost support by wrapping her left hand painfully around the blade and jabbed one of the fingers on her right hand up for Olivia's eye.
Olivia jerked back, but she was not fast enough. One of the fingers struck a grazing blow to her left eye and she drew back further, hissing with pain and rage. The distraction cost her her knife. Her red-haired victim managed to wrench it free from her hand while she was busy worrying about her eye.
Now in possession of the deadly weapon, Jill slashed up and plunged the sharp edge deep into the cavity of her assailant's chest.
Olivia's hiss of rage turned to a shriek of agony. Her eyes fell to see the knife lodged into her flesh almost up to it's hilt. Ouch.
It was now or never. Gathering the what she was sure must be the last reserves of her strength, Jill bucked up and managed to throw Olivia off like a horse dislodging it's rider.
The mortally wounded punk girl sunk to the ground, a darkened pool of blood blossoming up around the metal in her chest. Her eyes registered shock and pain, yet the zest of life seemed reluctant to leave them.
Barely able to move, Jill staggered to her feet, breathless and bloodied. It had been a tough struggle, and she was still losing lots of blood, but she'd live. If she didn't bleed to death first.
Why'd she do that? She regarded Olivia hatefully, a disgusted snarl transforming her features.
Disgust was replaced with shock.
In an unnatural, almost graceful speed, the crazy psycho-killer-knife-wielding-maniac who had tried to dice her to fettuccini only moments ago simply sprang up to her feet and tore the knife free in one powerful pull. Her eyes were glazed with an indomitable passion of rage.
" That hurt! " She pulled her lips back in a ferocious snarl, a snarl that froze all the marrow in Jill's bones.
" How did you...how did...what are you? " She gasped, horrified. Olivia wasn't entirely human. Not even Alan would be able to survive a knife through the heart! This is crazy! How can she still be up?
Olivia made a face. " This is insulting. Really."
" That should have killed you! " She backed up, wondering where to run. The dark jungle seemed her only safe bet. However, it was doubtful she'd be able to make it there in time--the tree-line was a good fifty feet away over thick mud--but if she made it she might be able to lose Olivia in all the vegetation. It was beyond lame. But the only other option was to jump in the river, an action that would most certainly mean suicide. However, at least if she died in the river this...this maniac wouldn't be able to feast on her flesh.
What morbid thoughts. She still hoped to get out of this alive, but the prognosis looked grim.
Olivia narrowed her eyes dangerously, barely noticing the hole in her body that was oozing a thick, syrupy blood.
Thick? Syrupy? What about this looked so familiar?
Only one other type of creature Jill had ever encountered bled like that...
" Should have killed me? " Olivia laughed harshly, " Sorry to disappoint, but you cannot kill someone who is already dead."
" What are you talking about? "
The river or the woods. The choices flashed in Jill's mind.
Olivia tossed her head and rolled her eyes, offended. " Come on now, Toots. Even you can't be that stupid. I eat raw flesh, I crave brains, and I'm dead. You must have slain tons similar to me in the Spencer mansion and Raccoon and you still haven't figured it out? I'm a freaken zombie! Duuh! "
She flexed the gory knife menacingly in her hand, giving Jill the feral gaze of a hungry predator.
" A zombie?! But zombies can't talk! "
Olivia snorted. " Says who? "
" And you don't...look like a zombie."
Olivia actually chuckled a little at this. " Of course I don't look like a zombie. Do you honestly think I could have survived for so long if I looked like one of those rancid T-virus carriers? If I did, then everyone would run from me screaming 'Ah! Zombie!' And I'd have a heck of a time getting a bite to eat." She wrinkled her nose in disgust, tsk-tsking. " I've wasted enough time chatting with you, Supper! "
There was only the faintest warning, the faintest coiling of muscles like a cat just before it pounces. The only action that betrayed Olivia's charge.
River or jungle...there was no more time to debate--Jill dashed for the river. Onl;y fifteen more feet and she'd be there...it was a lousy way to go, but it beat being gutted alive with a hunting knife any day.
Most likely she'd drown or be bashed to death against the rocks. But at least she wouldn't be zombie fodder. And hey, there was still a one in a hundred chance she might survive.
Olivia noticed the plan and altered directions accordingly. She wasn't anywhere near as slow or uncoordinated as a traditional zombie. Quite the contrary, she was very fast and ran with a rather graceful gait. Jill had only seconds to get into the water before she would be upon her.
The last seconds of my life...I can't die like this! She couldn't.
No. She wouldn't.
She wouldn't let herself go out that easily. One thing her team had always admired her for: she was a fighter. And fighters didn't jump into rivers when the chips were down.
In that moment sheer raw determination set in, and she barely noticed the pain in her arm, or the cold, or the large collection of scratches, bumps, and bruises that flecked her body.
Her will to live was now stronger than ever. The others needed her. Her kids needed her. And if there were more like Olivia running loose on the island, well someone had to let the rest of the team know.
She came to a halt at the very tip of the ledge, her reasoning being that since Olivia wanted to eat her she wouldn't want her prey to fall over the edge.
The next few seconds happened so quickly they almost felt like a dream.
Olivia grabbed the back of Jill's shirt in an attempt to yank her back.
Jill had been ready for just such an action, and the instant it happened she retaliated by twirling around and fiercely locking her fingers into one of the pink hair spikes. In this initial moment of surprise she jerked the zombie's head forward while at the same time tripping her legs out from under her in a move Chris had taught her years back. The combination attack worked perfectly, and Jill was able to hurtle the bloodthirsty Olivia off the cliff with a quick thrust.
One thing she failed to take into account though was the fact that Olivia had not relinquished her grip on her shirt, and she fell forward, desperately clawing at the ground. Unable to withstand such treatment, the fabric of the garment gave way and part of it tore off in Olivia's hand. The zombie fell off the bank and crashed with a loud scream into the raging current where she vanished beneath the silvery-white foam.
Painfully, Jill rolled onto her side, breathing heavy. She may have won the fight with Olivia, but now the damage was taking it's toll. Must...get up...call for help.
But she had the strength to do neither. Her right arm throbbed, torturing her. Her life's blood spilled in alarming amounts onto the already damp ground. And her muscles ached in every sense of the word. She was still wet and cold, but now she was also battered and beaten.
It hurt too much to move. She couldn't get up. This was it.
I guess I really am going to die after all.
She shut her eyes, ready to welcome the freedom from the pain.
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The lava was getting closer and Steve was running out of time. It was almost by accident that his eye caught a faint fissure in the side of the stone wall. A faint straight fissure. Like perhaps there was a secret door there?
There had better be, or else he was dead.
He rested both hands against the sandy outcropping and pushed inward. Much to his relief, the stone slid back and a narrow passage opened up.
It was pitch black, save for a few symbols carved at random into the sides of the walls glowing a very bright volcanic red.
Weird?
Yes, definitely.
However, at this particular moment Steve didn't care if there were live cobras slithering about all over the ground as long as he could escape the river of death. So it was without much thought other than the lava flow weighing heavily on his mind that he dashed in.
There was only one way to find out where this passage led.
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Veronica lounged on one of the comfy padded couches she'd furnished for her newly rebuilt castle. She was in her own private setting now; in a small room positioned inside the upper level of one of the towers where she could watch all that transpired through a huge glass window.
Outside the dark storm cloud swirled, easing off a bit in intensity but still shaking the island with the occasional thunderclap. A merciless sea pounded the shore. High waves punished the beach and beat anything unfortunate enough to get caught up in it into pulp.
Veronica watched it all in bored disdain, slumped over the couch like a teenager watching a TV show.
Of course, she had control over the weather. She could make it high noon of a sunny day if she felt so inclined. But the storm matched her mood, and she didn't really want it to end just yet.
She needed time to rest, to recuperate, before she could even begin to think about seeking her foe, much less putting her grandiose plans into motion.
Powerful as she may be, even Veronica could not run hot for long. Right now she was feeling drained--morphing into a dragon, teleporting, and raising castles from bare ground would do that to you--and resting was the only sure way to replenish her mystical energies.
As for the other Ashfords, she'd given them assignments around the castle. Little chores to keep them busy and out of her hair. She was fairly comfortable about letting them run about freely; they posed no threat.
Well, for the most part anyway.
If she had any worries at all it would be where Alexia was concerned. Out of all the Ashfords she came closest to being a formidable adversary. Intelligence and strength together were a powerful combination. It wasn't as good as magic, but it was nothing to be written off either.
Fortunately, Alexia had already been put in her place. Though problems could still arise later on down the road if she were to snoop about and learn too many of her ancestor's secrets. That would not do. Should that occur Veronica would have to kill her.
Gently, she ran a hand over her flaming red hair. A lot has changed over the years, she thought, some for better, some for worse. I wonder what happened to my son Stanley?
This stirred up some bad memories. She had been taken from her son too early; had never gotten the chance to see him grow up. Never gotten a chance to be a big part of his life. In her mind's eye, he was still a baby. Still a fragile, innocent, sometimes-pain-in-the-neck baby. Poor Stanley. Having to grow up without his mother.
Obviously, though, her son had lived to sire the ancestor of the current Ashfords, the ones in the castle down below.
Stupid teacup. She should have smelled a trap. But no, she'd been too preoccupied with all those grandiose plans. A hell of a lot of good they did me in that vile teacup. But was that really Discord's doing? Or some pesky white magic do-gooder trying to carve a name for his or herself?
That question was a little tricky to answer.
Veronica hadn't exactly been a popular little sorceress back in her day. In fact, the list of people who wanted her dead was quite long.
Most of them were insignificant nothings. The kind of power Veronica possessed was hard to attain. It had taken her centuries to get where she was, and it went without saying that no novice magic user stood the ghost of a chance against her.
However, there were a few...there were a few who posed a more serious threat. Discord was one of those. A pair or so of unusually powerful white witches was the other.
Stupid goody-two-shoes think they run the show. She shook her head, disgusted. Once this threat was over, things were going to be different.
A lot different.
Ah, comfy. She closed her eyes in bliss, sinking deep into the folds of the padded couch. It crossed her mind that she was hungry, and that she should probably get something to eat.
" Hmmm...what sounds good? " She didn't care that she was thinking aloud. Sanity was much overrated.
Eyes still shut, she opened her mind to the knowledge she'd gained from the internet, channeled her energies into one single thought process. Instantly thousands of recipes raced through her mind at a breakneck pace; pictures of gourmet foods straight from web pages.
She halted on the image of oatmeal raisin cookies. Mmm, yummers! Those look good!
She opened her eyes, lost the image. Sat up straight and stretched. Cracked her knuckles.
" Well cookers, time to whip up a little fun! " Arcing her arm upwards in a ridiculously exaggerated manner, she pointed to the area in front of her and poof, a coffee table popped into existence. Not just any coffee table either, no. This one was a fancy red oak with mahogany trim and a glossy finish.
" Now for the treats." She pointed at the table and a plate of perfect oatmeal raisin cookies appeared. Next to the plate a glass of milk winked in as the perfect compliment. " Yeah, much better." She opened a hand and floated a cookie to her.
Sure, she could have stooped over to pick one up--the plate was only a foot away--but by golly, that just seemed like so much work.
She had just lifted the cookie to her mouth when there was a sharp knock on the door. Always when I'm eating.
At least they had knocked, so nice to know her family still had some manners.
" C'mon in, oh loyal subjects of mine." Ok, so maybe loyal isn't exactly the right word. Her relationship with the other Ashfords was poor at best. Most of them disliked her intensely, and she knew it.
The door flew open and Alfred, Alexia, Ash, and Alexandra poured into the room.
" We have done as you asked, Veronica." Alexia declared.
Was it just her, or did her eldest female descendant seem a little miffed?
Veronica's violet eyes swept over each of them in turn. Only Alexandra wasn't frowning. Great. Just peachy. My adoring fan club. They can barely contain their joy at seeing me.
" You've finished your tasks then? "
" Yes." Ash moaned, looking exhausted, " I even re-arranged the sock drawers. Seven times, just like you asked." His job had been to neatly arrange all the clothing in the dress-rooms and alphabetize them by color.
" All the torture devices in the basement are neatly cleaned and ready for victims." Alfred offered.
" The drawing room and lounge are immaculate." Alexia stated, keeping her tone conversational despite her harsh feelings towards her mistress.
" Excellent! " Veronica's cheer was met with less-than-enthusiastic frowns.
" Cookies! " Alexandra ran up to the plate, then paused, unsure. She fixed Veronica with those ice-blue eyes. " I mean, may I? Please? "
Veronica laughed. " Of course. Go ahead and help yourself. It's not like I had to slave over a hot stove or anything."
" Yes, that would be terrible." Ash could not refrain from saying. Lucky for him, Veronica didn't catch on.
Alexandra took a cookie. " Thank you."
" You're welcome. Perhaps sometime I shall let you try an old recipe from my era. I got bored with it after the first few hundred times, but you would probably like it."
Alexandra chewed her cookie thoughtfully.
Her parents and brother exchanged curious glances, each too wary to ask the question that the statement brought up.
" Your era? When was that? " Alexandra wondered, " How old are you? "
Veronica took a bite of cookie before answering. " Well, I don't usually like to tell people my age, but we're all family here so you may as well know. I was born during the latter part of the Renaissance in Europe. My birthday was January 15th,1492." She turned to Alexia. " You're good with numbers, how old does that make me? "
Alexia blinked, impressed. " Five hundred twelve. You're 512 years old! "
Veronica smirked proudly. " Yep. Though a good 150 of those years might as well have been flushed straight down the toilet."
" You hide your age rather well." Alfred supplied, stating the obvious.
Veronica giggled. " Of course. I can look any age I want. A newborn baby. A hundred year old woman. Anything. One of the perks of being immortal. Age isn't such a big deal."
An awkward silence gripped the room. Alexandra and Veronica went on eating cookies. The others just watched and held back biting remarks, fantasizing Veronica's slow and painful death. Alexia in particular would've liked to rip her throat out and paint the walls in her blood.
This went on for nearly two full minutes before Veronica's hatred of silence surfaced yet again.
" Ah, come on now." She chuckled lightly, awarding the others a lopsided grin, " I can't be that bad of company."
" It's not that you're bad company," Ash said quickly, shifting his weight nervously, " It's just that...well, to be perfectly honest..." He felt the molten stare of his parents' eyes upon him and wilted. I'd better not mess up, " well, we don't know what's safe to say around you without getting well, you know, zapped. Or turned into hamsters." Or getting flung around a room to the tune of godawful music. He still had the remnants of a headache from that little mind-numbing experience. Cruel and inhumane torture, that's what it is! Pure torture!
" Hmm...." Veronica paused, as if mulling it over. Then she walked straight up to Alexia and slid a hand under her chin.
It took all of Alexia's will power and then some not to slap her hand away and break her arm. She wanted to recoil at the touch, knew better than to. Still, she couldn't even pretend to be neutral. Get your hand off me you...
Veronica noticed Alexia's venomous glare. " Why Alexia dear, whatever is the matter? Jealous? You're still not sore because I nearly killed you and took over your title as Mistress to the family, are you? I was hoping we could be friends."
Oh no, I harbor no ill feelings whatsoever. In fact, I rather enjoyed having every inch of my ass kicked by you! Even better that you made me your flunkie and stole everything that ever meant anything to me. You know what? I'm ecstatic. Let's be best friends! The faintest hint of a sneer registered on Alexia's lips. Her and Veronica could never be friends. Not that she thought her red-haired ancestor really meant it anyway.
" I don't get the feeling you like me very well, Alexia."
Wow, whatever gave you that idea? Still, she remained rigid. Assumed the stance of a stone gargoyle. It might have been a good charade if not for the fact that she still looked mightily pissed off. Anyone with half a brain could tell.
This just wasn't her day. Violent thoughts swam through her mind: fantasies of what she'd like to do to this holier-than-thou hellgoddess who had the audacity to call herself an Ashford.
Alfred and Ash looked on, hating Veronica but too smart to let it show.
Alexandra continued munching cookies, seemingly oblivious to the whole thing.
The moment was pregnant with silence.
Then Veronica removed her hand from under her descendant's chin, backing away with the phony expression of a hurt puppy. " Oh dear! I feel so unloved. My own flesh and blood hates me! " She pouted.
The Ashford twins and their son were taken aback.
Alfred gave his sister an odd look, She's nuttier than Planters!
I won't argue with that. Alexia nodded agreeably.
When they looked back veronica's pouty face had disappeared, but her facial expression was still about as serious as Looney Tunes. " Hmphf, you're not even talking to me, and that's just rude." She twitched her pointer finger and a snake of sizzling black energy jolted forward and struck Alexia's shoulder, sending her staggering backwards.
She wiggled her finger back and forth as if Alexia were a naughty child who needed disciplining. " Tut tut, Alexia dear. Not a good idea to rudely ignore me. You may be smarter than me, but I have the power to make your life completely miserable. What have you to say to that? "
Alexia put on a faux grin. " Of course. My apologies, Veronica." This woman was really getting under her skin.
Veronica nodded her approval. " Very good. Now all of you, leave me. Go clean the bathrooms or whatever."
" But the bathrooms are already clean! " Alfred protested.
The red-haired sorceress rolled her eyes and made a curt swipe-like motion with her hand. " There. I fixed that."
Toothbrushes materialized in in each of the other Ashfords' hands, save Alexandra.
Alexia stared at her stick of dental hygiene as if she had never seen one before. She can't be serious!
Ash held his Orale B out in front of him and pointed at it repeatedly. " Um, what are the..." Then the horrible realization dawned, " Oh." He lowered his arms to his sides, defeated. " I guess we'd better get started then." He said in dull, flat tones. He wasn't exactly enamored with the prospect of what he was going to have to do.
Veronica nodded decisively. " That's right. Your cleaning tool. Now get down their and scrub those toilets and be thankful that I don't ask you to brush your teeth when you are done. Get! " She pointed to the door and it jerked open on cue, as if yanked by some invisible string.
Alfred and Alexia turned in unison and walked out of the room, thankful at least to be away from her.
As his parents filed out, Ash glanced back and noticed Alexandra following, toothbrush-free. " Hey! Veronica! You forgot Alexandra! " If he had to do it, then everyone had to do it.
" Alexandra doesn't have to do chores." Veronica explained, rubbing her temple and with her eyes half closed. Using a lot of magic so soon was taking a lot out of her. I really must cut back, save all my big tricks for Discord or whoever I'm dealing with.
" What? What makes Alexandra so special? "
Of all the stupid annoyances. " The fact that I like her better than all of you! " Veronica stated blatantly, totally abandoning such concepts as tact. She zapped a green lighting bolt that bit Ash in the rear, speeding him along his way. That'll teach him.
Her youngest descendant froze in the threshold, innocent blue eyes devoid of all the hate and ill will harbored by the rest of her family. " Veronica? " Her voice was small and meek.
" Yes? " Veronica flipped back onto the couch with the all the fluid grace of a baby hippo jumping off a diving board.
" What do you want me to do? "
Veronica shrugged, her expression serious for a change. " I don't care. Do...whatever. Just try to stay out of my hair. I have a battle to prepare for. People to kill. Lives to ruin. You get the idea."
Alexandra left the room, shutting the door softly behind her.
That took care of that. For the time being anyway.
Veronica leaned back with a sigh, continuing to massage her throbbing temple. The pain, why can't I make the pain go away? It was rare for her to be afflicted with mortal ailments. She never got sick anymore. So why was she getting a headache?
Veronica, girl, you must be losing it. She stared straight ahead. Gazed at the almost empty plate of oatmeal raisin cookies as if they held all the answers.
The remainder of the night was filled with the rage of the enduring typhoon which did not finally relinquish until dawn.
