Night's Children: Nox Noctis
AN: I want you all to pay close attention to Jimena's visions, it might not be important now, or even in this book, but it will come into play later in the series. Sorry this one took so long coming out. :sad face:
Chapter Twelve: Invocation
Her limbs were beginning to ache. Cold from lack of circulation and the hopeless presence stirring within. How long she had been sitting there, lotus-style, on her large couch, she did not know. It couldn't have been too long, for Cassandra had just left. Her eyes were shut lightly in concentration, her mind open and her ears hearing every small sound around her. The cars from outside the window, the steady hum that never seemed to leave the city. Flickers of light danced around the room from the candles she had lit.
She could feel the moonlight shining down upon her. Patiently waiting for her to have something to say. Her breath became long and deep, and she knew the amulet around her neck was beginning to pulse, a swirl of colors, predominantly white.
She licked her dry lips, and opened her mouth, "Mater Luna, Regina Nocis, I your unassuming servant, Jimena the reincarnation of Pandia, request your guidance." She swallowed, "I request your vision, your power to be restored to me this bleak night. For tonight is the night of the Atrox's chosen." She paused, "Tonight is the night of your Daughter, the Lecta."
"I humbly invoke the power of the moon, to once again feel the power of the light and to utilize the long-forgotten gift of premonition. Please, Great Goddess, allow me to see the future of my charges. For not only is the Daughter of the Atrox in danger, so is the Daughter of Nemesis, the Daughter of Eileithyia, the Daughter of the Prophecy, and the Son of the Fallen." She inclined her head, chin touching her chest, "Please allow me to save them."
Her only response was silence, and Jimena swore, wondering if her resentment of her role as the Magna Mater had persuaded Selene to strip her of her powers permanently.
But then, her closed eyelids began to shutter, and she saw her first true vision in fifteen years.
The girl stood before the roaring flames, a hand delicately tracing over the fire. Her long, maroon hair was lying gently down her mid-back, swaying from the breeze. Her clothing was a simple yet elegant off the shoulder dress. Her skin was pale, and her feet were bare on the cold stone of the floor. An amulet of Selene glowed brightly, trying to warn her of the fire.
She was not alone. To her side stood a boy, with unkempt hair that rested on his shoulders. His face shrouded by the night's shadows. His hand rested on one of her shoulders in a comforting gesture, when he spoke his voice was low and full of regret, "You don't have to do this." He warned.
She turned her gaze from the fire for a fraction of an instance to look at him, "Yes I do." Was all she said, her voice a whisper and it was impossible to tell if it was sorrowful or eager.
"Is this because of him?" The boy asked, his tone resentful.
She was silent, staring at the flames as they hissed and crackled. "Yes." She muttered softly, the boy flinching slightly at her admission, "And no." She continued.
The pair remained silent for a moment, watching as the fire danced in anticipation, watching as shadowy figures began to appear from the darkness.
The girl cradled her hand to her chest, over her heart, "I have to save them."
The boy shook his head in ill humor, "You don't have to save anyone. This was their choice."
The girl lowered her head, her hair hiding her face, "It was not their choice; they would not have done it if it were not for me." Her eyes were melancholy, "Please," She begged of the boy next to her, "Understand. I cannot go on hurting the ones I care for like this. Lambert will-" Her voice trailed off.
The two looked at each other, and the boy pulled the girl into a hug. He kissed the top of her head, "I will stay." He whispered so quietly into her hair, "I will stay for you."
The girl nodded into his shirt, and clutched him tightly.
They remained that way for a few moments, until a strong hand pried the couple apart. A figure clad in only a dark hood stood behind the girl, who was wiping away some tears that had collected in the corner of her eyes, "It is time." The figure's voice was cold, indiscriminate.
The girl nodded, and hesitantly stepped into the fire, leaving behind the boy who stared at her with longing and grief.
Flash.
The vision had changed its shape, becoming another scenario. It was again night and a girl with golden brown, curly hair stood shakily on her feet, swaying slightly. She looked horrible, as if she had been beaten to within an inch of her life. Her face was pale, and she was wearing pajamas that were ripped in a several places. Yet her eyes were determined, and she stared ahead in the distance.
Around her feet, there were puddles of blood, the scenery around her demolished. More importantly, on the ground, there were three unconscious figures. One was a blond, laying face down, her skin pale. Another was a brunette, crashed against a marble pillar with blood pooling out of a corner of her mouth. Finally, there was the same maroon-haired girl, cut and looking near death.
The girl with the curly hair stared at a person in front of her with obvious contempt, sneering at him even though it was obvious she was about to pass out.
The person was a man, clad entirely in black, his face hidden beneath a mask. He started walking over to her slowly, "Beaten already? I haven't even touched you yet."
The girl said nothing, tensing into a fighting stance and spitting blood onto the ground.
Her vision began to skip, and Jimena knew she had missed a part, as the next thing she saw was the man crouching over the defeated Daughter, tilting her head up under the chin so she would look into his eyes.
"I will cross you over first, little Healer." He said coyly.
Flash.
A merciless laugh cut through the moonlit night's silence, as a girl stood victoriously over a beaten boy. He was clutching his sides and gritting his teeth. It was obvious to any who saw him that he was in a considerable amount of agony.
"Aren't you going to defend yourself?" The blond spat cruelly, nudging him with the pointed toe of her boot, "Aren't you even going to try?" She grimaced in disgust, rearing back and sending a hard kick to his ribs. The boy with the unkempt hair and hidden face said nothing, lying in the road. "Aren't you going to talk?"
The boy only looked at her, his eyes shining yellow.
The sight of his eyes only seemed to enrage her more, and she kicked him again, rolling him over and pressing him against the brick wall of the alleyway, kicking him again and again and again with rapid fervor. "You will pay." She hissed, "You will pay for what you have done."
The boy shook his head and didn't bother bracing himself between the blows. At one point or another of the beating, his breathing became racking coughs, blood and saliva projecting forth.
The girl backed away finally, her anger fading, replaced with disgust, "You're pathetic. All of you are, but you especially. You have to destroy other's happiness for your own greedy pleasure," Each word issued from her mouth uttered like a curse, "You had to delude her. You weren't content on ruining your own life, you had to ruin ours as well." She clenched her fist. "I'm going to kill you tonight. Consider it your reward for all the wrongs you've committed. I'm going to kill you, then I'm going to kill all others of your miserable kind." She sneered and withdrew something from her pocket, "Any last words, you bastard?" She swore.
The boy inhaled-
Flash.
The girl with the piercings and long brown hair began to scream. She raked at her face with her fingers, dropping to her knees in horror. "Why!" She croaked.
"It's the only choice." Came a voice, "You did the right thing."
"NO!" She cried, pushing herself to the ground.
"You know you wanted to, even if it was only a little." Came the oily voice once again.
"Never!" She yelled in anguish, "Get the hell away from me."
"You know that's too late, little Goddess. You know it's too late."
"I command you to get the hell away from me!" Her voice was bordering on the hysterical.
"You commanding me!" The voice snorted, "Don't make me laugh."
"You wretched thing." The girl muttered darkly.
"Don't be calling me wretched, dea, you and I are a lot alike."
The girl's eyes widened in hatred, "That's not true."
The voice snickered, "You know it to be true. Why else would I have chosen you above all the others? You even welcomed me with open arms."
"I did not!"
"You did. You even thought of me as a friend, your closest companion," The voice mocked, "Remember? 'No one understands me, not like you. The others don't accept me like you do'." The voice mimicked.
"I HATE YOU!" The girl screamed.
"Then you are only hating yourself." The voice countered. There was silence, and then the voice spoke yet again, "You know there's only one way out of this Goddess."
The girl nodded numbly, fingering the object that she had left on the floor.
"You know what you have to do," The voice said, persistent.
The girl fingered the knife, cutting her thumb. She watched, morbidly transfixed as the red dirtied the smooth surface of the metal.
Flash.
Jimena's eyes snapped open, and she jumped off of the couch, landing sprawled across her floor, grabbing onto her old amulet and breathing heavily.
She knew what she had just seen.
She had seen each of her Daughters; Riley, Aria, Tessa, and Imy submit to their dark sides. Had seen them fall into traps of the Atrox. Selene had deliberately shown her the worst future for each of them.
But only one of them was a definite fall to the Atrox.
Her vision had shown Riley stepping into the Cold Fire. There was no going back after that point. Serena's downfall replayed in her mind. Riley. Serena. The parallels between the two were not chance, they couldn't be. Riley and Serena shared the same fate, but unlike Serena there would be no last minute redemption for Riley. Riley was weaker than Serena, and much more susceptible to her dark side. Her vision had shown Riley accepting the tainted side of her soul with open arms.
She swallowed, her mouth dry.
Her visions were always right.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Trysten sat behind the wheel, his fingers wrapped around it and gripping tightly. He absently gnawed on his lower lip, his eyes trained to the area ahead of him with precision. His beater hummed and he felt every bump in the road through his worn driver's seat. He doubted he had even blinked in the last few moments, as his vision was starting to grow foggy.
Lance sat shotgun, staring blankly out the windshield, trying to convince himself that the evil in the air wasn't growing thicker as each moment passed. Tried to tell himself that Trysten wasn't going to do anything rash or stupid. "Where are you going?" He asked Trysten, neither of them taking their eyes from the road ahead.
"I don't know," He answered honestly.
"You realize what you're getting yourself into?"
"Yes."
"You trust yourself?"
"No."
"You trust the Daughters?"
"…No."
Lance sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair, Trysten's confession worrying him. "Then is she even worth it?"
Trysten's eyebrow rose and he sent a quick glance at the man beside him, "What do you mean?" He asked.
Lance shook his head, "I mean, is she truly worth it? Worth seeing Tymmie again? Worth exposing yourself to a world you've been hiding yourself from for over five years? Worth being crossed over? Is one girl worth all that pain, Trysten? How can you be certain she wants to be saved, or that she might just return to the Atrox after we save her? How can you be sure? You said yourself that you don't trust the Daughters. Newsflash, Trysten, Riley is a Daughter."
The gravity of Lance's words sunk in, and he gripped the wheel tighter, "She's not like the other three. She's different; I can sense it and I know you can as well. And she does need my assistance, whether she realizes it or not. If I can help one person-"
His passenger snorted, "This isn't about one person, Trysten. Don't play dumb with me, I'm not that stupid."
"She's a lot like me Lance," Trysten started out quietly, "Except that she can be saved. I know I will fall to the Atrox and inherit its powers; it's been prophesized since before I was born." His voice grew softer "There will be no redemption for me, Lance. We both know that."
"That's ridiculous." Lance replied, irritation seeping into his words, "There will only be no redemption if you allow yourself to fall that far. I had thought I was doomed to remain a Follower, and I was wrong." His eyes darkened, "There are no certainties. Not now, not ever." He snorted, "Don't use predestination or prophesy as some pitiful excuse. I'm not buying it."
Trysten groaned, "You don't understand-"
But he cut him off, "Don't understand? Think about whom you are talking to. I was a Follower for decades; you think I don't know the inner urge to take hope? That horrible and aching pain? Think I don't know the pressure your inner darkness puts upon you? Think again."
"You were never born with it," Trysten snarled, anger getting a hold of him, "You know what freedom feels like, what hope feels like. I have never known it- never will because of my parents. Don't act like we suffer the same fate."
Lance could feel his own temper meeting Trysten's, "And you and Riley do?" He asked incredulously, "Riley, a girl who has her hope, who has never been a Follower?"
"She is the Atrox's Chosen."
"So was I, so are many."
Trysten blew some hair out of his eyes, "You don't understand."
"Then tell me and quit skirting around the issue!" Lance outburst, "You said Art and I were your brothers, that you trusted us, yet you refuse to let us help."
Trysten fell silent, "It is my burden alone to carry."
"That's total bullshit."
"What can you or Art do, Lance? Answer me honestly, how can you help me?"
"How can Riley?" Lance retorted, "And if she is in a situation as bad as you are, how can you help her?"
"Its me the Atrox wants tonight, not Riley." His eyes narrowed, "And you know it, otherwise you wouldn't be ranting as you are now." He exhaled, his nostrils flared slightly, "How can I help her? I can trade my life for hers. How can she help me? By living the life I won't ever get."
Lance felt himself freeze, "I won't let you sacrifice yourself to the Atrox for some stupid Goddess, a Goddess whom will fall to the shadows on her own free will." For a brief instance in the night, his eyes flashed yellow, "You are caving, weakening, I can sense that at least. The years of fighting are taking its toll on you, and I can understand. I know the wants of having your own life where you don't have to fight. But don't for one instance use some Daughter as a cop-out for submitting to your own needs."
Lance withdrew a lighter and cigarette from his inner pocket, "What you don't seem to realize, is that its not just your life, or your hope Trysten. It's everyone's. If you step into the fire on your own free will, the Atrox wins. You are the successor, the one who will restore the lost power to the Atrox that your mother took away." He inhaled deeply, the smoke leaking out of the corners of his mouth, "I know its you the Atrox wants tonight, Riley's just bait. And you're falling for it." He narrowed his eyes, "Don't be pathetic like I was. Don't loose to your weaknesses. I won't let you, Art won't let you, and for some reason I feel Riley won't let you either." His face became grim, "Honor the sacrifice your parents made, don't repeat it. Don't insult them like that." He exhaled, a huge cloud of smoke fogging up the front of the car.
Silence reigned, and Lance stared at Trysten intently, waiting for him to rage at him for his words, wanting him to growl or sneer, do something that showed there was some type of emotion inside of him that wasn't dead. The tinniest little hint that would show that he wasn't ready to die or fall to the Atrox just yet.
"Lance." He stated in that irritatingly constant monotone.
"Yeah?" He muttered back.
"Don't smoke in my car."
Lance's eyes widened, then he shook his head slowly, letting out a low, genuine chuckle, "You got it buddy," He said, crushing the end of the cigarette against his bare palm, not even flinching when it burned him. In a few moments, the imprint from the cigarette regenerated, leaving behind nothing but the faintest of scars.
The discussion was closed, for now.
Resigned, Lance continued to look out the window, and at the darkening horizon ahead of them.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Jimena sat on her couch, yet again meditating. The fear and terror that had once filled her had vanished, and now she was desperately trying to recall the visions that had plagued her moments before, trying to see some detail she had missed. Hoping to find some way to help her Daughters.
The first vision was what disturbed her the most. Riley was stepping into the fire, that much was painfully obvious, but when and where was what Jimena was more concerned about. Was this event to take place tonight? Was that why it was shown first? Or was it to happen sometime in the future? She had analyzed every small detail, hoping to find some sort of lead. First, there was the issue of the boy beside her. Jimena did not truly recognize him, mainly because his face had been covered in shadows throughout the vision; his only feature she could clearly see were the yellow glowing eyes. That signaled him out as a Follower, yet that hardly narrowed down her options. She tried to think of any Followers that Riley had come into contact with, which were only Tymmie and Cassandra.
She groaned and leaned back. Riley had said something about trying to protect someone, but whom? She had also mentioned Lambert, Jimena gave an involuntary shudder at the thought of the ruthless leader of the Infidi.
Her musings were interrupted with a sharp knock at the door, and Jimena shifted to her feet, cautiously approaching the door. "Who's there?" She asked guardedly, hoping against hope it was not Cassandra again.
"It's Officer Jacobson, open this door now dammit!" Came a severely pissed off voice from the other side.
Jimena groaned and hit her palm against her forehead; didn't this man have a home? A family? Some type of strange hobby? Anything, really? Tonight she had had her share of unwanted visitors.
She sighed and peeked through her eyehole, sure enough; Jacobson stood there, his short and stocky frame rigid and his fist pounding on the door as he swore persistently.
"I can't talk right now," Jimena said through the door, "It's a bad time."
"Too bad." He grunted, "Let me in."
"I don't have to do anything unless you have a warrant." She stated matter-of-factly.
"Pheh." He snorted, "Your foster daughter is missing after attempted vehicular homicide, and you can't talk to a police officer?" His voice escalated as he spoke, "Telling a social worker that would get you into a lot of trouble, Ms. Castillo."
She gnawed her lip; this man was infuriating her till no end. "You wouldn't."
"Oh, I would."
She exhaled slowly. Pace yourself Jimena. Don't do anything rash. "What do you want?" She muttered.
"I've…um…uncovered some security tapes from the hospital that I want you to watch, Ms. Castillo."
"Is that even legal?" Jimena asked, still through the door, no way was she letting this psycho into her home.
"Not exactly. But I pulled a few strings," He paused and matched his eye up to the peephole, trying to intimidate her via eye contact. Jimena withheld a laugh; this was a determined and strange man indeed. "There's something I want you to see before I give it to evidence."
Jimena exhaled slowly, "You're damned persistent, anyone ever tell you that?"
"My first wife. Everyday."
She sighed and unlocked the deadbolt, she slowly inched the door open, "If I let you in, you need to promise to leave me and Riley the hell alone."
"No." He answered bluntly, letting himself in, "But I will keep the social worker out of it." He glanced around the apartment and saw all the lit tapered candles Jimena had used for her prior ceremony to invoke Selene's power, "Good thing too, looks like you haven't paid the electric bill."
Jimena grit her teeth and clenched her fists, "Please," She muttered, "Have a seat."
He was already sitting down, his grimy boots propped on her coffee table, "Have a VCR?" He asked, "That is, if you actually paid the electric bill."
"I pay all my bills," Jimena sneered. Ass! She added in mentally. She extended her hand and Jacobson handed her the tape. She felt the need to pummel something, but she restrained and delicately shoved the tape into the VCR. "This had better be worth my time." She warned.
Jacobson's face drew serious, "Oh, it's definitely worth your time, Ms. Castillo."
She sighed and sat down, as far away from Jacobson as possible. When she turned on the television, she gaped as she saw it was a recording from a man she could only assume was Twiggy's room. He lay there, comatose, feeding and IV tubes laced everywhere, "When is this from?" She demanded.
Jacobson leaned back and cracked his knuckles over his head, "This morning, about an hour after they were admitted into the hospital."
Moments passed, and Twiggy still lay there motionless.
"Is there a point to this?" Jimena asked, annoyed.
"Jus' wait."
The tape flickered and Jimena paled when she saw the door open. In walked two girls, girls Jimena knew had to be Riley and Aria. "Oh no." She whispered.
Jacobson said nothing, but only watched Jimena closely, judging her reactions.
Aria and Riley seemed to talk for a minute, and Riley walked over and sat at a nearby chair. Aria nodded at something and walked over to the boy. She seemed to stare at him for a moment, before she spread out her hands-
Jimena jumped up immediately to block the screen, but Jacobson gripped her forearm with extremely quick reflexes. "Watch." He commanded.
Jimena felt her eyes widen in horror as she saw the same strange haze that signaled Aria's power activating. Even though the tape was in black and white, she knew that it was a clear, sky blue. She panicked even more when an aura began to surround Riley as well, spreading to hover over Aria and Twiggy. "Turn it off." She spat.
"No. Keep watching."
"Turn it off!" She yelled, wrenching away from him and ripping the power cord out of its outlet. The TV flickered and sputtered off.
She stood up slowly, turning around to face Jacobson dangerously, "Forget what you saw." Her voice was cold and direct.
Unfortunately for her, Jacobson was not a man to be intimidated, "Never. What I saw on that tape was-"
"Its not your concern." Jimena hissed, "Get out."
"Not until I know the truth." He snarled, straightening, "I need to know what the hell is going on, and I need to know now."
"You don't need to know a damn thing!" She declared, "This is over your head and concern!"
His face flushed red, "This has something to do with the hit and run! I'm not some little pushover you can boss around, and your attitude will not send me cowering and running like some dog!"
"Why the hell do you want to know so bad?"
"What I just saw on that tape was a goddamn miracle!" He declared, "That boy should have died! Yet those girls were able to save him from the brink of death! Why the hell would I not want to know?"
Jimena's nostrils flared with rage, "So what? You can report them to the feds? Package them up and exploit them like sideshow freaks!"
"I can't let something of this magnitude be ignored." He stated.
Jimena swore vehemently and wished she had been gifted with telepathy to erase his memories. She tried to think of a way to persuade him to forget what he saw, and came up with nothing. Her anger fizzled out, replaced by despair, she sank down onto her sofa, "You can't tell anyone about this."
"Why the hell not?"
"It's a secret that's been kept for thousands of years, that's why!" She outburst.
He rose an eyebrow, "Some kind of cult, huh? Figured as much."
Jimena's face broke into a grin, finally a way out of this mess, "That's right we're the cult of," She paused, looking for some type of name, her eyes spied the rug on her floor, "Persia. And we're waiting for the spaceships from the motherworld to come and rescue us from this pitiful planet." She brought a finger to her lip in a 'shh' gesture. Better that he thought her crazy than know the truth.
Jacobson's face twisted into an expression of distaste, "An admirable effort, but you're not the type to go insane Ms. Castillo," He narrowed his eyes perceptively, "I know those types." He brought out a pair of handcuffs and chained himself to the leg of a sofa, "I want to know the truth, Ms. Castillo. And I will not leave until I know the entire story."
Jimena sighed, her eyes trailed to her window. Outside the moon shown brightly, seeming to encourage her. She inwardly prayed that this would not have serious repercussions down the road.
"If I tell you, you must swear to never share your knowledge with another soul." She spoke gravely.
Jacobson gave a noncommittal grunt, "Can I see that tape?"
Jimena groaned and reluctantly handed it over.
When Jacobson got it he gave a nod of gratitude and then broke the tape clean in half over his knees, and Jimena felt her jaw fall. "You tell me, and it will never leave this room."
Jimena felt the tinniest smile spread across her face, and she looked at him, "How well do you know Greek mythology, Mr. Jacobson?"
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Trysten leaned back and forth between his two feet, constantly shifting his weight as he stood in line. The place was a dive, the rows of candy all but cleared out, the cheap fluorescent lighting showed dead bugs trapped in the lights, and the cashier appeared to be one of the most inept people he had ever seen. In his left hand he held a crumpled five and two ones, all Lance and he could scrounge up underneath the seats of the car. Apparently driving around in aimless circles tends to waste gas.
He sighed and began to click his lip ring against his teeth. The boys had been driving for less than twenty minutes when Lance had wisely pointed out that attempting a rescue mission on about 1/16 of a tank was not the most effective way to save anyone. So the two had pulled over to some locally-run dump with a line that seemed to last forever, and unfortunately he was at the end of it.
Trysten however, didn't quite understand why he was feeling so impatient, it wasn't like he or Lance knew where Riley was anyways.
He noticed then that the cashier's eyes had not strayed from him for a moment, even when he was helping other customers ring up their purchases. Trysten shifted yet again, beginning to feel terribly uncomfortable under the man's stare.
He inched forward as the line continued at a snail's pace, trying to force himself to resist a mental breakdown that was creeping up on him.
When he finally reached the counter, he placed the crumpled bills on the counter, "Gas on 7," He stated robotically, staring at his shoes, trying to avoid looking at the cashier's incriminating glare.
The cashier, an old man with huge, coke-bottom spectacles and a nametag that stated 'Hello my name is Charlie' took the money. He hesitantly licked his thumb and straightened the bills with the grace of a professional, the register opening with a slight ting! noise, "Nice night tonight, ain't it?" He asked, apparently trying to make small talk.
Trysten's face twisted up into a grimace, "I've had better." He muttered.
The old man turned his attention away from the register and stared at him coldly, Trysten noticed rather large tufts of white hair sprouting from his ears, "I'm sure you have, Prince."
Trysten froze, "What did you say?" He stammered.
The man's gaze shifted yet again back to the register as he counted out the exact amount of change, thirty-one cents, "You heard me." He stated noncommittally, placing the coins on the counter, "Thirty-one cents is your change." His worn old eyes looked back to Trysten, "Enjoy your night sir, and remember 'leve fit quod bene fertur, onus'." He whispered, his voice dry and cracking.
"The burden is made light which is born well," He translated. Trysten could feel curiosity filling him, replacing the shock he had experienced earlier, "Who are you?" He whispered.
The man smiled, revealing yellowed and crooked teeth, reminding Trysten instantly of a crocodile, "People around here call me Charlie," He said, flicking his fingers against his plastic nametag, "Used to be a fancier name, but I don't mind it too much. Figure I kinda look like a Charlie." His smile widened, "My job's just to get people to where they need to go," He winked, "Normally they don't like the way they're heading."
Trysten drew his eyebrows, "And where do I need to go?" He questioned.
The old man laughed, a series of violent hee-haws and flecks of spit, he even slapped his knee, "You know Prince, you already know."
Trysten backed away slowly from him, "Keep the change," He mumbled, getting away from the cashier as quickly as he could, heading towards the door. As he parted it and the small bell sound emitted from the door, he heard the old man calling after him.
"Thank you for paying the fare, hardly no one does that anymore."
Trysten shook his head and made quickly for his car, where Lance was sitting passenger side.
He stepped in and immediately buckled his seatbelt, shaking slightly and panting in fear. His eyes narrowed and he mechanically turned the key into ignition. The beater roared to life and he pulled out of the gas station as quickly as he could.
Lance stared at him, "What's wrong with you? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Trysten shook his head, "It's nothing. Nothing at all." He muttered under his breath, "I'm not going anywhere."
Lance was silent, trying to determine for himself what had happened to his friend in the few short moments he had been in the gas station. He sighed, and looked at him, "I got a call while you were in the gas station, from Imy."
The car jerked violently as Trysten slammed on the brakes, "Where?" Was all he asked.
"She told us to go to the new mall, and that Tessa and Aria are already there waiting for us."
Trysten nodded and performed an illegal u-turn, to the chagrin of the person driving behind him. He floored the accelerator and the two were gone as fast as humanly possible.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Sorry this chap was so delayed/shorter than normal… but I was having an extremely hard time writing this part. Sigh. Darn that Trysten. Yes. This is all Trysten's fault.
Brownie points to whoever can tell me who Charlie is!
Next Up: Riley and Tymmie face their rather unwelcome intruder, then there's Imy and Art. On a couch. All alone. O.O oh my.
Merry AssortedHolidays!
And Double Merry AssortedHolidays to my reviewers!
!nym!