Night's Children: Nox Noctis

AN: Someone asked me who my favorite character in this story was, and the ones that stick out the most are Officer Gordon Jacobson and Twiggy. My favorite character to write is Aria though. Lol anyone who's read my prior stuff knows who my favorite cannon character is :squee Tymmie fangirl: Sorry this chap is so short in comparison to the other two.

Sidenote: I was considering writing a small off-shot of this series, focused on Trysten, Lance, and Art, and how they came to be free of the Atrox, more character background/development, etc. Would anyone be interested in reading it?

Disclaimers are redundant on this site

Chapter Eight: Interlude

Part Three: Informed

Trysten sighed as he untied the back of his puke green barista's apron and hung it gingerly on a coat hanger. He was dead tired, after working a double shift on almost no sleep. He had Tymmie to thank for that.

Something tonight unsettled him; there was this odd tingle in the air. It took Trysten a few moments to discover that it was the presence of the Atrox, and it was much stronger tonight.

His thoughts once again drifted to that morning's encounter, and more specifically, on a pale-eyed, maroon haired girl. Her situation was painfully similar to his, and he found himself feeling a great deal of sympathy for Riley. She had handled the news much better than he had when Trysten had first found out he was one of the Atrox's chosen ones.

He barely knew her, yet he felt connected to her, in a way similar to the connection he shared with 'Art' and 'Lance.' Riley was someone who he could relate to, and he treasured people like that. He treasured it so much that he broke a solemn oath he had made five years ago to avoid the Atrox in order to save her and her fellow Goddesses.

It had hurt when her response to this was to basically ignore his existence. But eventually, he had come to terms with the fact that she hadn't exactly understood where he was coming from, or his intentions. He would have to earn her trust, and he was ok with that.

He was beginning to wonder if he had a crush on her.

He sighed and turned back to cleaning his workstation from coffee grounds and spilled milk. That was stupid to even consider, it would never work out, considering what he was destined to become one day.

A small tinkle of bells caught his ear, signifying that someone had entered the shop, "Sorry we're closed." He mumbled, not even turning around.

"Feh." A grunt followed as the person took a seat in front of the bar-like counter. "Are you off yet?"

Trysten turned around and faced one of his best friends, 'Lance E. Lot'. He mentally groaned when he thought of his and Art's pseudonyms. They were so obviously false, yet no one had ever seemed to pick up on them. "Just closing," He said, his voice in its almost constant graveness, "Where's Art?"

Lance sighed, "Moping around over Imy still, most likely."

Trysten gave an understanding nod. Of the three, Art had taken the rejection of his beloved Imy and the fellow Daughters the hardest. He was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that Imy didn't trust him, and that she thought of him as a liar and a Follower of the Atrox.

"I worry about him," Lance continued, his long discarded accent flickering through his speech as emotion got the better of him.

"Me too." Trysten agreed, there was a pause, "Can you feel it?" He asked quietly, referring to the unnaturally strong aura of the Atrox.

Lance nodded, "That's why I came down here, actually. I was hoping you knew what it was about."

Trysten shook his head, "The only communication I've had with the Atrox is the dreams Tymmie keeps sending me."

Lance drew his eyebrows together in thought, "Is there any difference in them lately?"

"No. I always see the same thing. My father stepping into the flames, followed by my mother." His voice was clipped, even, "Then the both of them asking me to join them."

"Hmph," Lance grunted, his fingers tracing the edge of the table, "I remember…" His voice trailed off as he looked Trysten in the eye, he swallowed, "I remember I felt a faint increase of its powers when we rescued Riley, Imy, and the other two, but I haven't felt the Atrox's aura this strong since I was a Follower, when the Atrox crossed over one of the Daughters of the Moon, your mother."

Trysten gnawed on his lower lip, contemplating. "You believe that they're going to cross over one of the four tonight?"

Lance shrugged, "It's possible. The Atrox has been playing low for a while now, the night where they almost got Riley and Imy was the first show of power it's demonstrated in years." He sat in deep thought, "Now that Lambert's the new leader of the Followers, things will be more calculated, less rash, and more subtle." He placed a hand under his chin, "I've been involved with the Atrox for over fifty years, and I've never seen anything like this." He ran a hand through his black hair, sighing. "You'd think that after being a high-ranking Follower, and a slave at Nefandus, I'd have a clue as to what the Atrox is planning."

Trysten shook his head, "Times have changed since you've been liberated. Lambert is the new avatar for the Atrox's power, and Tymmie looks like a shoe-in for the next Prince of the Night." He slumped against a wall, "We've tried so hard to evade this damn war but it keeps finding us."

Lance gave a small smile, "Correction, you've been trying so hard to hide from the Atrox. As far as Art and I are concerned, we're dead to it. The Atrox lost interest in me after I failed to cross over your mother, and Art's greatest accomplishment was that he was a servant to a member of the Incinti." He looked at Trysten, "You on the other hand are the son of the Atrox's chosen prodigy and The Key. You know that the Atrox's been after you ever since it discovered you existed, you have the potential to become one of the most powerful Followers in existence. After all, you possess inherited telepathy." He sighed.

Trysten felt like he had just swallowed something very bitter, "I will never turn." He stated simply.

Lance gave him a look of sympathy, "It's easy to say, much harder to do. We both know that." He paused, collecting his thoughts, "I believe that tonight, the Atrox is going to cross over at least one of its two chosen ones. There's you, the Lectus, and then there's Riley, the Lecta."

Trysten groaned and slumped into a chair adjacent from Lance's, "What I don't understand is why they would choose Riley." He looked at the ceiling, "After all, Cassandra isn't one of the more powerful Followers; she was even outcasted for a time."

Lance pursed his lips, "Did you ever consider her power?"

Trysten scratched his head, "Empathy? Why would the Atrox want to utilize that? It's virtually the same as telepathy."

"Think about it. The ability to sway people's feelings, or to even eliminate them completely." He sent Trysten a meaningful look, "The exact thing the Atrox is trying to achieve. She could even have the power to erase the Atrox's thirsty need for hope, replace the feeling with something else." He shook his head, "And there's the fact of who her father possibly is…."

Trysten snorted, "Don't tell me you're buying into the rumors?"

Lance opened his mouth as if to say something, but he was cut off as his cell phone began to ring. He picked up the phone from his pocket, and answered it, "Salut?" He asked. There was a pause, "Alright, we'll be right over."

Lance hung up the phone and looked at Trysten, "Apparently Art's having some type of crisis at home." He muttered.

"Did he say of what type?" Trysten asked Lance.

Lance shook his head, "He sounded frantic though, we should hurry and get over to the apartment."

Trysten nodded, and dug his keys out, "Let's go then."

Trysten drove like a bat out of hell, running about three lights and going fifteen miles over the speed limit to get to the apartment building. Art was hardly one to freak out over insignificant details, and judging the feeling in the air tonight, something horrible had to have happened.

Trysten skidded to a stop in front of the building, parking illegally in a handicap spot. Lance bolted out of the passenger's side, and ran over to buzz on the intercom. Trysten took the key out of ignition and quickly followed him.

"We're here." Lance said, pressing down on the button.

There was no response, but there was a clicking noise as the door opened. Lance and Trysten shot each other a glance, but both quickly climbed the five flights of stairs to get to their apartment door. Lance knocked loudly, "Art! Open up!" He commanded.

The door slowly creaked open, revealing a severely disheveled Art, but not the rest of the apartment. "You guys are slow as hell!" He muttered, obviously paranoid and irritated, not the greatest combination.

"What's going on?" Trysten asked, level-headed as always.

Art sighed and opened the door the rest of the way, "We have a problem."

The two peered inside the apartment, to see an exhausted Imy sprawled across the coach. Her arm was in a sling, and she looked like she was having trouble breathing. Her golden eyes lit up when she saw Trysten and Lance, "Thank the Goddess." She mumbled, heaving as she forced herself up, "We have a problem, Riley's missing."

Trysten let out an uncharacteristic, "Oh shit." As silence filled the room.