Night's Children: Nox Noctis
Disclaimer: (I don't think I've done one yet! Le gasp!) The only things I own are characters you've never heard of before either this story or Aliena Misercordia. Although I did try to kidnap Tymmie once…let's just say it didn't work out so great as now there's this whole 'restraining' order thing.
AN: It has come to my attention that this is now the longest DOTM fanfic on the site! O.O wowee.
Oh, I've discovered I kinda suck at fight scenes. My bad.
OHMYGOSH THERE'S FLUFF! FLUUUFFFFF! Inthischapter. It's terribly sappy…but I don't know…sap is good sometimes? Right? After all, that's what they make maple syrup out of (nods knowingly). And pancakes are fluffy, ergo, fluff plus sap equals a mediocre breakfast! Huzzah! … No I'm not writing this at three in the morning…achem…anyways…
Major thank yous to Shadow Goddess Akhet and Dreamfantasy13 for the great reviews and support! This chap's for you two!
Chapter Seventeen: Frigidus Ignis: Trysten's Surrender
Dorian had to resist the urge to actually smile for once as he heaved the fallen blonde goddess over his shoulder. His left hand was fisted into the curly haired one's collar as he dragged her along the floor. Two Daughters of Selene, soon to be three, defeated by the Incinti all in one night. The Atrox was sure to be pleased, and would perhaps, vanquish and destroy all of those irksome Infidi once and for all when it realized their ineptitude.
He craned his neck to take another look at the blonde, Tessa, he thought her name had been. Her pain was sweet to him, and fulfilling. Even more so than that of the Lecta's since she was far more emotionally attached to her memories. Her screams had given him a delicious thrill. His normally expressionless face twisted into a sort of morbid half-grin, he would definitely request that the Incinti let him play with her a bit more before she was handed over to the Atrox.
The girl on the floor groaned, her head lolling to the side. Dorian's eyes widened momentarily; surprised that she was regaining her consciousness so quickly after she had hit the wall. No normal human would be able to regenerate like that. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair, letting some strands loose of his ponytail. He had to act fast.
Situating and balancing Tessa's weight on his right shoulder, and gripping the collar of the other's shirt more tightly, he began to stomp towards the door, kicking it open as he went out into the hall of the complex. He knew that Yvonne had forbid changing into shadow due to the Infidi threat, and she was the last person whose wrath he wanted to incur. It forced him to travel, carrying the two girls, the ancient pedestrian way, but it was no matter. Witnesses were not an issue, Dorian was one of the best mind manipulators the Atrox had at its disposal, and those wanting to pick a fight would easily get more than they bargained for.
Dragging the one girl and wrapping his spare arm around the waist of the other, Dorian began to trudge down the hall to the elevator, a slight whistle escaping his lips as he hauled off his prizes. Fortunately, none of the annoying and nosy neighbors peaked their heads out of the doorways, and it was silent. He pressed the elevator button and was satisfied when he heard the tell-tale 'ting!' noise that signified it had arrived, he was even more satisfied to discover that the elevator was empty, not a rare occurrence but he was nevertheless thankful for being spared the nuisance of mind manipulation on the silly-putty brains of normal people.
Dorian once again kicked open the door to the building with his heavy boot, giving a sigh of content as he began to breathe in the cool night air. There was a sliver of moon hanging in the sky and he winced slightly, but the pain was endurable. His inky eyes trailed over to the parking lot, where Yvonne's rather flashy Mercedes was parked. The three trainees shared the car, and Dorian was glad for the extra key in his coat pocket.
The curly girl's heeled shoes began to scrape on the pavement and once again a tiny groan escaped from her parted lips. Her knuckles dragged across the sidewalk, yet Dorian noticed that no blood had accumulated from the abrasions. Strange.
He shrugged to himself, content to keep his curiosities at bay until the Frigidus Ignis ceremony had concluded. He was about ten feet away from the Mercedes before he noticed that someone was leaning against the expensive sports car.
Dorian stared at the man, casually slumped against the side, his elbow resting on the hood. In his left hand he held a smoldering cigarette as he let the smoke billow out of the side of his mouth. Despite the fact that it was night, the man wore sunglasses, obscuring his eyes. His hair, jet-black and cut choppy above the shoulders, hung in his face, which held a multiple variety of piercings. From what Dorian's analytical observation could gather, the man had a silver stud in his chin, two hoops on the lower left side of his lip, two more hoops in his left eyebrow and three in the right. He was dressed in all black, and his thumbs were painted the color. Dorian was quite sure he had never met the imposer before.
"Get off." He grunted flatly, knowing that a good glare would most likely scare this punk off in moments.
The man turned to him, and a crooked grin spread across his face, revealing even, white teeth. His left hand absently flicked the ash from the cigarette off on the hood of the car, and he rose an eyebrow, "Nice girls," His voice was low and smooth, "Why do you need two?"
"I'm their designated driver, get the hell off." Dorian could hear his teeth grinding as he muttered out the lie.
"Naw," The man trailed off, "It's too nice of a car." He lifted the sunglasses to the top of his head, revealing a pair of the coldest gray eyes Dorian had ever seen. The mystery man seemed to scrutinize the two unconscious girls, and something akin to disappointment settled on his features, as if they weren't what he was searching or expecting for. "Pity." He said under his breath, but Dorian caught it.
"What?" Irritation had definitely swollen inside of him.
The man looked up at him, almost sorrowfully, "They don't have the hair color I'm looking for."
Dorian exhaled through his nostrils angrily, "I don't have time for this," He growled, "I have a ceremony to get to, and if you make me late I will kill you."
The man laughed, "You kill me? That's rich."
Dorian cracked his knuckles, before he dropped the blonde on the ground next to the brunette and rolled his shoulders, "You have three seconds."
The man said nothing, simply took another drag on his cigarette.
"One." Dorian's voice was sinister and would have sent an average person away in tears, but the stranger was not affected, blowing out a cloud of smoke.
"Two."
The man stubbed his cigarette out on his bare palm, not even flinching. Dorian was momentarily impressed, but still annoyed nonetheless.
He inhaled and began to say 'Three.' but fell short when an excruciating pain suddenly hammered through his head. Dorian dropped to his knees, clutching the sides of his skull until his knuckles were bleach white, his mouth contorted in a silent scream. His head sluggishly took a look to the man, and could not conceal his shock when he saw the once gray eyes transform into a yellowish hue.
The man tilted his head to the side, as if to observe his handiwork, "Having fun yet?" He taunted, then paused and leaned closer, "Or is this the part when you kill me?"
Dorian struggled to articulate, but the pain increased ten fold, making it impossible to form a coherent thought.
The man in black gave a look of disgust, "You're supposed to be the great mind manipulator of the Incinti? And here you are, sniveling like some beaten down dog." He hissed between his teeth, but Dorian was immune to the insults as his head refused to stop spinning, "I'd ask you where your counterparts went, particularly that bastard Isaac, but I know you don't have any clue where they're going." The poor illumination from the streetlight glinted across his face, creating shadows and making him look demonic. "You know it's a Cold Fire, I'll give you that much credit, but you don't know where it's being held, do you?"
Dorian was silent, collapsing on the ground and squirming.
The man cleared his throat and reiterated, "Do you?"
He summoned up all the willpower he had to shake his head.
"Just as I thought. How pathetic you rookies are. Absolutely useless for information." He stated coldly, glaring at the flinching form on the ground, then letting his phosphorous eyes drift to the two collapsed Daughters of the Moon. "I really should just kill you and relieve you of your misery and the world of your ineptitude."
Dorian gave a small whimper of protest, which only seemed to disgust the man more. "No, I have a better idea for you." He stated, hunching over and resting on the heels of his combat boots, "I'm going to make you relive every single worst memory you made your victims live through, I'm going to make you scream like you made them scream." He grinned maliciously, "Tell me, how's it feel to be at the complete mercy of a cold-blooded bastard like me?"
It was silent for a while, before the struggling Follower managed to choke out, "Who?"
"Who am I?" He clarified mockingly, "Why, I have a lot of names. They call me murderer, torturer, the son of the Satan himself, even." His smirk grew, "You, my dear Dorian, can call me Tymmie."
The Follower's eyes widened in recognition of the name, "Ty-"
"That's correct, the right hand of the Devil. The second in command of Infidus." To make his point, Tymmie lifted up the hem of his shirt to reveal the word tattooed across his chest, "Feeling nervous? Scared even? You ought to be."
His breath came out in wheezes as another sharp jab of pain went through him, "Why?" He croaked.
"Why am I wasting my obviously precious time to torture you? A lowly Incinti Follower not even worth the scum under my boot?" His face twisted from one of cruel amusement to one of anger, "I have my reasons. One, I just don't like you. Not even remotely." He lifted two fingers, "Two, I don't respect your methods, the most idiotic creature can manage to create pain by making someone repeat a harsh past," Yet another finger, "Three, your moronic associate Isaac stole my prize." He stood up, his boot crushing Dorian's fingers from where they were splayed across the ground, "But most importantly? Because I know that it was you, of all the whelps and ingrates of the Atrox, who broke her." He ground his toe, causing Dorian's fingers to roll brutally against the rough concrete. "And she is only mine to break." A satisfying snap was heard throughout the night as one of Dorian's fingers broke under the pressure.
Tymmie, apparently satisfied with the damage inflicted, began to walk away, and the pain immediately receded from Dorian's skull.
Dorian pushed himself up off of the ground and began to feel nausea and bile rising in his throat as he panted, his head throbbing from the invasion upon his thoughts.
Tymmie stopped in his steps, and gave a slight turn of his head back towards the recovering Follower, "I don't care about those two," He pointed to the unconscious Tessa and Aria, "They're not my concern, so I'll leave them for you." Once again the macabre grin made its way to his face, "That is, if you can remember who they are after I'm done."
The relieved expression of his face morphed back into one of horror as Dorian recalled Tymmie's earlier promise, "No-!" He pleaded.
"Don't care." Tymmie cut him off, and with a flick of his hand, the pain returned back to the mind-manipulating Follower.
He collapsed on the ground, as thousands upon thousands of memories came at him, the memories he had imposed upon his victims. Deaths, betrayals, sorrows, broken hearts- all came rushing to him at once and the vivid images seemed never ending.
It was then that it was Dorian's turn to scream.
Tymmie simply stalked off into the night, giving no indication that he was listening.
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Jimena gave a relieved sigh as the manila file slid back into the cabinet drawer. The search for Yvonne's renting records had taken surprisingly little time, with the reluctant assistance of a certain grouchy police officer.
"Are we finished yet?" Gordon grunted from the side, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall.
Jimena rolled her eyes but nodded, shutting the filing drawer, "All finished. See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
The response to this was a snort as Gordon shifted from his place and sighed, "Let's get out of here then, before someone comes in and notices what's what."
She groaned, but nevertheless turned sharply on her high-heeled shoes and headed out the door into the hallway. Gordon put his hands in his pant's pockets and followed after her, grumbling something incoherent.
The receptionist at the front of the building gave Jimena a quizzical look, but abruptly found something else to do as she shot him a death glare, confidence radiating off of her like the old days. Her partner shook his head in either exasperation or incredulousness and muttered a "Goodnight Bob," To the poor terrified man behind the desk.
In a few moments they were in Jimena's car and Gordon immediately buckled his seatbelt, "Where are we going?" He asked grimly.
"When I was on the phone with Aria, she mentioned that Imy was staying at her ex-boyfriend's apartment, we should go there and see if she can fight, we'll need all the help we can get." Jimena stated matter-of-factly as she turned the key in the ignition and drove off onto the traffic-infected streets.
"Do you know where this apartment is?" Gordon asked as she turned onto the freeway.
She nodded, "When they were dating, Imy and Riley would sometimes stop by there."
The speed of the car accelerated until it hit about eighty miles an hour, the bright city lights becoming a blur of color as the scenery flashed by.
Gordon sighed and stared out the passenger's side window, drumming his fingers on the tops of his knees, "So about how much time do we have?" He asked without looking at her. When he waited for a few moments without a response, he noticed that the car was starting to veer towards the left side of the lane, towards the oncoming traffic. "Castillo?" He questioned before he looked to the driver. "CASTILLO!" He swore.
She was staring dead ahead, her eyes glazed over and vacant. Her hands clutched the steering wheel tightly. Her focus wasn't on the road, or the fact that they were about three seconds away from getting pulverized by a semi-truck.
"Shit!" He cursed, unbuckling his seatbelt and stretching over the armrest to grab the wheel before Jimena killed them all. The loud bellow of the truck's horn resonated within the air as Gordon jerked the wheel to the right at the last possible moment, missing a sideswipe with the sixteen wheeler by a hair. He straightened the car before he drove it slowly into a ditch. Breathing heavily with cold sweat beads forming on his forehead he numbly pressed the hazard lights.
"Goddamn." He whispered to himself; clutching over his chest, "I'm too old for this shit." He muttered, before he turned his attention on Jimena, fury darkening his gaze, "What the hell was that!"
Jimena slowly blinked, as it appeared her wits had returned to her. Her face was pale and eyes were wide as she sluggishly inquired, "What are we doing in a ditch?"
"You went catatonic on the freeway!" Gordon growled. "You almost got us pancaked by a SEMI TRUCK!"
Her features darkened as she said, "I had a vision."
"While you were driving?" Gordon had noticeably calmed down at the admission.
"Yes."
Gordon exhaled as he put a hand on top of his head, "What was it?"
Jimena just shook her head and turned off the hazard lights and opted instead for a blinker, "We need to get to Imy's as soon as possible, I'll explain on the-" She was cut off as Gordon's heavy hand rested on top of hers, she looked up at him with curiosity.
"I'm driving," Was all he stated, already getting out of the car, "Bad luck and car crashes just seem to follow you Selene followers like flies over a rotting corpse."
Jimena grimaced at the mental image, but nevertheless switched sides, for once deciding to leave her stubbornness aside.
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The sound of thunder rumbling filled the alleyway as two figures were hurtled to the ground, a sickening crack echoed as both of their skulls connected harshly against the concrete.
A pair of yellow eyes watched dispassionately, looking every bit the cold-hearted killer that he normally hid. The shadows danced and responded to his commands flawlessly, as he caused them to wrap around his opponents. Inside, he swore, as he knew that once upon a time he could have effortlessly disposed of the two, but he was out of practice, corroded. It was not a normal occurrence to draw upon the powers the Atrox had given him, but dire situations called upon dire circumstances, so here he was. Fighting against a Regulator and a Follower taught by Yvonne.
The two stood up shakily, their cuts and abrasions disappearing immediately, Zahi allowed himself to be impressed for a moment, so he was squaring off against two Immortals. The pair was strong, and when their powers were combined they were a match for Zahi. However, what he didn't have in strength, Zahi more than made up for with experience.
It was the girl who stood up first, robotically popping her jaw back into place and shaking loose her hair, a curtain of white falling around her like some sort of perverse halo.
"Nice hit," The skinny one, Isaac, muttered as he too stood. Spitting out some excess blood and, Zahi noticed with amusement, a tooth, he said, "Mind if I return it?"
He raised an eyebrow. During fights Zahi was not one for banter. He was ruthless, quick, and efficient, qualities which had led to his rise in the Atrox's power. Once, he had flaunted his evil, with a score of minions donned in tattoos and firearms, but roughly five years in exile and an additional ten working the labor pits of Nefandus had sobered him. He had seen nightmares come to life a hundred times over, and the horrors that the pair of Followers facing him were attempting to instill were children's games compared to what he had lived.
He gave the smallest ghost of a smile, the old feelings of adrenaline surging within him, as he stated coolly, "Try your best."
Immediately, Isaac launched into an offensive maneuver with the shadows, sending a bruising force directed at Zahi, while December drew power to her for a crushing mental blow. Zahi narrowed his eyes in concentration as he attempted to absorb Isaac's manipulated shadows. He managed to halt the moving tendrils with his hands, the force causing his boots to slide backwards against the asphalt. Isaac watched smugly, his own eyebrows furrowed in focus as he continued to press the shadows into the ex Immortal.
Zahi snorted, gritting his teeth he abruptly flicked his wrists, sending the hurtling blast back towards its source. Isaac's smug countenance fell abruptly, realizing he had been tricked into thinking he had the advantage. He dodged the concussive energy by jumping sideways quickly, the force missing by a hair.
December refused to hesitate as she sent out a telepathic attack that would freeze an opponent's central nervous system and therefore their movements, her specialty. Zahi simply batted the imaginary assault away with his mental shields like a fly and she felt her jaw drop. "There-there's no way!" She stammered, taking a half step back, "My attack never misses!"
"Then you have to try harder," Came a low voice by her ear and December ironically felt herself freeze, how had he appeared behind her so fast?
"Holy shit," She whispered, whirling around impossibly fast, bringing her leg up for an axe-kick and desperately hoping her stiletto would connect with this irksome ex-Follower's temple.
"Too slow," Chided his voice, once again from behind her and she let out an animalistic growl of frustration as she jutted her elbow backwards towards where his stomach should be. She hissed with clenched teeth as she hit nothing but air.
Isaac watched the scene before him with cold, calculating eyes. The liberated Follower, had revealed himself to be Zahi, a once hot shot who he knew all too well. Once upon a time, when he had first been crossed over, Isaac had been a part of Zahi's minions, the brash and rage infested goat punkers that had proudly displayed their evils with handguns, tattoos, and almost Satanic imagery.
Though Isaac was different now, more professional and ruthless, and there was the fact that he had never met Zahi personally before this night, he couldn't resist the surge of pride within him as he gazed at his opponent. So this was the almighty Zahi? God of the Underworld, the man who was once half a step away from the Incinti? The Follower who had once inspired fear and terror with the mere mention of his name had been reduced to a boy wearing faded black clothes with a shaggy haircut in his late teens? Pathetic.
Isaac continued to evaluate not only Zahi's attack strategies and defense, but also his partner's. He noticed, with some distaste, that December allowed emotion to overrule her during a fight; anger drove her attacks and movements. The rage and stubbornness gave her an advantage against small-fry opponents, but Isaac knew that against a veteran like Zahi she was outclassed easily. He was momentarily awed however, when she landed a swift uppercut to the enemy's jaw, sending his head back with a resonating crack and effectively ending the cat and mouse game Zahi was playing with her.
"ISAAC!" She barked, blowing wayward strands of hair out of her face as she charged Zahi with a flurry of attacks, both physical and mental, "A little help here!"
Isaac continued to watch, gauging his opponent's strengths and weaknesses. It didn't take long for him to discover that Zahi's fighting strategy relied mostly on defensive techniques as opposed to an offensive. He merely continued to block all of December's fists and kicks with a practiced and patient ease, his eyes occasionally darted to ensure Isaac was still standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and not rushing in to join the fray.
"Isaac you dick!" December screamed as Zahi managed to sneak in a kick to her stomach, sending her sprawled across the concrete, "What the hell's the matter with you? Help!"
Zahi's gaze once again flicked up to the Regulator, who stood there stoically, when Zahi saw that Isaac had no intentions whatsoever of assisting his rookie companion a flash of disgust flew over his face, and he shook his head before returning his attention to the white haired girl.
"Once I'm through with him I'm so kicking your ass!" December screamed, launching herself off of the concrete and aiming for Zahi's head, connecting with a poof of shadow as he transformed effortlessly. A punch caught her in the ribs from the side where Zahi had teleported to, but she twisted at the last possible second, using the momentum to hook her left leg around Zahi's knees and send him falling to the ground.
Zahi's reflexes were quick, however, and he transformed before he face planted, and reappeared in front of December, giving her no time to register as he wrapped shadows around her ankles and arms, effectively pinning her down.
She struggled fruitlessly, baring her teeth like a grizzly as she attempted to wield her Follower influences over the shadows to get them to release her, but it was to no avail, Zahi had a far greater power over them and they only tightened as a result.
But, December noticed, Zahi was panting heavily and his eyes were plastered shut in an extreme concentration. It was obvious that he was out of practice, for although his strength was immense he lacked the stamina to uphold it.
She sneered at Isaac, "Fucking bastard!" She shrieked, knowing he had let her serve as a punching bag so he could merely observe his opponent, she was the distraction, the test subject, and oh how that pissed her off.
"Although I'm sure he deserves it, a lady shouldn't swear." Came the calm, albeit strained, voice of Zahi as the shadows wrapped tighter around her and she could see black fuzz beginning to creep into the corners of her eyes.
"I'm no lady," She retorted, struggling to keep her conscience even though she already knew Zahi was within her mind and causing the fatigue to spread rapidly. She began to squirm, trying to get out of the bounds, but all that resulted was her fingers becoming numb and her body beginning to go slack. "What the hell is this?" She demanded, not accustomed to the sensation.
Even though he tried to hide it, December could hear the laughter in his voice, "You don't know? It's the technique you attempted on me earlier, the freezing of the central nervous system. I found it fascinating, so I reversed its effect on you, slightly modified of course."
A bitter chuckle made its way out of her mouth as she began to feel the numbness spreading until it reached her neck, "Damn, you're good," She sighed before her head lolled to the side, indicating she had lost her consciousness.
Before Zahi had even a moment to admire his handiwork, a fist connected to the back of his head, pitching him forward a few steps, "Cheap shot." He muttered, regaining his wits and stance.
Isaac gave his crooked, yellow smile, "They're the ones that work best."
Zahi sent a sympathetic look to the trash-talking girl who was crumpled against the ground, "What a disgusting way to exploit your companions."
Isaac shrugged, unscathed, "Always look out for number one; I learned that from the best."
The barest flicker of curiosity graced his features, "Oh?"
The Regulator's eyes gleamed almost maniacally as he lifted the sleeve of his dress shirt, revealing the depiction of a half-man, half-goat across his bicep, "Hello teacher," He spat mockingly.
The irony of the situation was not lost on Zahi as a slight frown graced his features, "I see." Was all he stated, cracking his neck and readying his defensive stance, "Shall we begin?"
"I already have," Was Isaac's blunt reply, his crooked smile becoming fiendish.
Confusion settled over Zahi's features before he began to realize that his legs were freezing and numbing underneath him, he sunk to his knees on the ground, "The girl…just a distraction…" He choked out, cursing his stupidity as he felt the exact same process overcoming his own body as it had December's.
Isaac snorted haughtily, "Of course. What, you thought I was just using her to tire you out?" He smirked, "I know that if it was a fair fight, both December and I would be toast in minutes," There was a cold glint in his eyes, "I had to fight dirty."
Zahi attempted to talk, but it was becoming difficult to let alone breathe as he lungs weren't functioning properly. He turned his coffee eyes up sluggishly as he wheezed.
"That's right, I underestimated you when we began fighting, but once you revealed your true identity I knew it had become serious, so I let you think I was simply some cold bastard while you exerted all of your focus on December. I knew I couldn't take you one on one." Isaac sat in a hunched position, seemingly evaluating the Follower, "I mean, after all, I used to hero-worship you. The almighty Zahi. The Atrox's favorite protégé aside from Stanton." He snorted as he flicked a finger against Zahi's sweat-beaded forehead, causing him to fall over backwards as he no longer had control over his balance or body.
Isaac simply sidestepped over Zahi's rapidly freezing body as he scooped December up into his arms bridal style. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen," He sneered contemptuously, "Sweet dreams Zahi, I've got a party to attend." He looked over his shoulder, "Oh, and by the way, I also made a modification on December's attack," His gaze turned almost frostbitten, "Instead of a temporary paralysis, this version is most definitely lethal." He crowed, "I hope you're as good at mind manipulation as you claim, otherwise you won't live out the night, Immortal or no, as this attack destroys faster than you can even hope to heal yourself."
With those parting words, Isaac and December vanished into the night air, as Zahi lay on the ground motionless, struggling to stay alive as his body began to shut down on itself.
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Riley shuddered unconsciously as she looked at the place Yvonne had led her to; it was so painfully familiar she tensed, an action that did not go unnoticed by Yvonne.
"What's the matter, honey? Crowd shy?" She chided, as there were in fact more and more Followers filing into the building.
"That's not the half of it," She whispered as she saw the familiar black exterior, rotting sign, and loud metal music pulsing from the building. They had chosen to hold her Frigidus Ignis ceremony at The Dungeon, and the bitter humor of it all almost made her chuckle. This was where Imy and she had first come across Followers, where she had almost been crossed over by Tymmie.
Imy. A feeling of regret washed over her and she nostalgically wished at that moment Imy was beside her, cracking jokes to lighten the heavy atmosphere of the situation. But she wasn't, Imy hated her now. She wouldn't be here tonight; instead, there was Yvonne.
"Let's get you going, hm?" She asked, her eyes darting from face to face within the crowd that was inching towards the door, "The party is for you, after all."
Riley could tell by Yvonne's falsely sugared voice that what she really wanted was to get the process done and over with, she could feel her anxiety and nervousness coursing through her like a tsunami. And while Imy or Tessa would have called her out on her cowardliness, Riley simply stood there like a stone.
She felt Yvonne's nails beginning to dig into her upper arm, "I don't believe I ever introduced myself, I'm Yvonne." She said, all smiles.
Riley recalled December's earlier words 'She's one tough bitch. So don't get on her bad side', "I've heard of you." Was all she said flatly.
Her smile widened, "That's wonderful! Because I'm going to try and have the Incinti assign you to me as your mentor to replace Isaac, super isn't it? Oh, and what's your name?"
Riley physically tried to restrain her eyebrows from shooting up to her forehead, "Riley." She muttered.
Yvonne let out a laugh that remarkably sounded like chimes, "Don't look so scared, Riley, it's better that you get me instead of some loser like Mason or god forbid even Isaac." Riley's head jerked back like she'd been slapped and Yvonne laughed louder, "See? Just the reaction I was anticipating." She looked at the club which was slowly filling up, "But enough chit-chat, we're expected."
With that, Yvonne sauntered up to the bouncer, practically dragging Riley in tow, "Hello there handsome!" She greeted.
The bouncer gave Yvonne an appraising eye before he grunted at Riley, "Who's she?"
The smirk on her face was apparent through her voice, "This is Riley. Riley Zalank." She purred.
The bouncer let loose the biggest, and most predatory, grin Riley had ever seen, "We've been waiting for you, go on in beautiful."
Riley continued to stare at him incredulously before Yvonne steered her into the club.
The heavy, droning music is what first caught her attention and she looked up to see the band playing. It was Absinthe; she recognized them from the times that they had shared a bill with The Discards. What she didn't know; was that the group was comprised entirely of Followers, their glinting yellow eyes flashing when the revolving lights fell upon their features.
Next to her, Yvonne was on her tippy toes, a hand covered over her eyes as she searched the crowd for presumably a familiar face. Riley's attention then immediately shifted to the throng of people, everyone there was dressed for a formal occasion, the men in tuxedos and dress shirts and the women in dresses and skirts. Most were dancing, and Riley could tell merely by expression alone that they were all feeling incredibly smug. She tensed, was her conversion such a big deal that it warranted such an occasion? There were easily a hundred Followers at the club, and suddenly a queasy sensation overtook her stomach.
It was then that the emotions of the crowd began their assault, lust, hate, anger, pride, joy, all wove in and around her psyche, conflicting her own emotions and threatening to overtake them. Taking a few deep, meditative breaths, she managed to channel the majority of them back into the crowd. When she was finished, she felt a pair of eyes on her and she turned to see Yvonne staring at her dubiously.
"What was that all about?" She wondered aloud.
A wane half smile crept onto her face, "My gift. I'm an empath."
An analytical expression crossed her features before she gave a comprehensive nod, "I see." Was all she stated, before she abruptly shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, "I'm going to go talk to a few up and ups about the ceremony tonight, stay over there and make yourself comfortable." She stated, jerking her thumb towards a few tables and chairs before she sauntered off.
Riley let out a breath she didn't know she was holding as she welcomed the ability to be shrouded in anonymity and away from the sea of dancers and Followers. She simply wanted to step into the fire and be done with it; she wasn't a people person and never would be. Plus, it took the edge off of her anxiety to leave as she felt the stares focusing on her and she grabbed the advantage to hide in the shadows of the dark part of the club.
As soon as she sat down, however, it seemed that her hopes of remaining a wallflower were shattered as a boy who looked to be around seventeen or so took a seat at her table across from her. His eyes were hazel in color, and his hair, dyed green, was combed over one eye. His features were plain, indistinctive.
"What's your name?" He asked, leaning across the table.
"Riley," She whispered.
He gave a smile that transformed his entire face handsomely, "I'm Zebulon, but you can call me Zeb." He extended a hand that Riley reluctantly shook. "So what's a pretty girl like you sitting on the sidelines for?"
If she didn't feel so completely dead inside, she would have blushed, "I don't like crowds." Was all she muttered simply.
He mock pouted, "But tonight's a big night! You ought to be enjoying yourself."
"I enjoy myself in the quiet."
If Zeb took the hint, he didn't heed it as he only scooted his chair closer to her, "You need to lighten up, it's not everyday the Incinti score a Lecta as important as this chick's supposed to be."
A flicker of something crossed over her face when she realized that this Zeb guy didn't know he was casually talking up the said Lecta. Perhaps, she could get some information? "What's the big deal, the Atrox chooses Lecti all the time," She said hopefully off-handedly.
Zeb stared at her in amazement, "What's the big deal? Sweetheart, isn't it obvious?"
Riley shook her head, "I'm new." She stated.
He seemed to evaluate her before nodding understandingly, "I thought I would remember a cutie like you." In the shadows, Riley grimaced slightly, "So who you under?"
"Yvonne," Riley responded automatically, knowing it was almost true.
"Sheesh, I don't envy you," He stated bluntly, stretching his arms, "Anyways, this Lecta is one of two that could possibly fulfill the prophesy."
"Prophesy?"
"Yeah, it was stated by some oracle of Selene, no less, that a child born of traitors to the darkness would lead to the uprising of the Atrox over the moon." He replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair, which Riley noticed with irritation, had once again scooted closer to hers.
His statement threw her off guard, there had been nothing said of a prophesy; only that Trysten could end the war between the Incinti and Infidi, and Tymmie had said she was solely usable as bait. Not only that, but a child born of traitors? Her parents, traitors to the Atrox? It didn't seem believable, "Cassandra betrayed the Atrox!" She blurted, immediately cursing her stupidity.
Zeb narrowed his eyes at her, "How do you know she's Cassandra's?"
She scratched the back of her head, "I overheard Yvonne," She lied smoothly, attaching a little empathetic influence to her excuse so he would believe her.
It worked, Zeb shrugged casually, before he leaned over her some more, "This talk is boring, want to dance?"
Riley backed away from him slightly, not entirely comfortable with his proximity, "Maybe later?" She tried to skirt around it.
He let out a laugh devoid of any warmth, "You don't need to be so terrified, it's only one little-" His voice trailed off simultaneously as Riley felt a hand on her shoulder. She tensed, looking at it to discover it was a man's hand.
"She doesn't want to," Came a monotonous voice that made Riley's heart freeze in its chest as she identified it.
Zeb looked at the person behind her with a barely concealed sneer, "What are you, her boyfriend?"
"Perhaps," He drawled, then added, "Leave."
A moment of silence passed before Zeb stood up and stalked off, swearing something under his breath.
"Riley," He said in a tone much softer than with what he had addressed Zeb with.
She slowly turned around, and as blue eyes clashed with gray she felt her breath quicken incredibly, "Trysten?"
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Golden eyes opened with sloth as she first began to realize that her human pillow was no longer underneath her. Lethargically, she blinked a few times and attempted to stretch, only to be met with a sharp pain in her arm that caused her to whimper. Slowly her environment and situation registered and she cursed herself for falling victim to fatigue.
"Art?" Imy asked, using her good arm to prop herself up.
"Someone's coming," She heard him murmur from near the apartment's window.
She tensed, "Good or bad?"
Art's eyes were closed, and it was obvious that he was trying to concentrate, "I can't tell, their mental projections are all-"
At that precise moment, a vicious assault was started on Art's apartment door.
"Open up!" Came a bellow from the hallway.
"-crazy," Art finished lamely.
Imy immediately recognized the voice, "Jimena?"
"Imy! Are you in there? I CAN HEAR YOU! OPEN THIS DOOR THIS INSTANT!"
"Dammit woman, don't yell," Came a surly voice beyond the door that Imy also found to be familiar.
Art carefully unlocked the deadbolt and slowly inched open the door before an irate looking Jimena slammed it open for him. Behind her was a fair-haired, middle-aged man that Imy quickly identified.
"You brought the cop?" She exclaimed disbelievingly.
"Hello again, Ms. Ormond," Gordon deadpanned, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking like he'd rather not be there.
Art scratched his head, completely at a loss, "What exactly is going on?"
"There's not a lot of time," Jimena said crisply, returning to her strictly business mode that had made her famous with her protégés, "I need both of you to come with us right now."
"Why?" The brunette asked, also confused with the sense of urgency.
Jimena's dark eyes locked onto hers, "Something's changed, I just had another vision and if we don't act fast, two of your friends will die."
That was all the incentive Art and Imy needed before they looked at each other and simultaneously asked, "What do we need to do?"
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
As he stared down at her, something in his throat caught. He wasn't used to seeing her like this, more than likely no one was. He had thought her pretty before, but under this metamorphoses she was breathtaking. It was safe to say he had most definitely never felt this way about anyone, and all she had to do was stare at him. He knew it was tonight, ironically enough, that she looked more like a Goddess than she ever had before.
"Trysten?" She inquired carefully, as if not believing her own eyes.
"Are you alright? Have they…" He trailed off, not wanting to continue the statement as he lightly grabbed her shoulders.
She shook her head slowly and asked the question that he had least expected to hear, "Why are you here?"
The elated feeling in his chest depressed slightly, "What?" Was the intelligent response.
"I betrayed you! Why are you here!" Her voice had taken a panicked edge to it and her eyes darted around the crowd frantically.
"Betrayed?" Trysten felt his eyebrows raise on their own accord, "Riley, what are you talking about?"
"You…Tymmie…you shouldn't be here," She looked down at the floor, her head spinning.
All Trysten managed to hear was Tymmie's name, "What did he do to you?" He demanded calmly despite anger welling in his chest, attempting to make eye contact.
"You said I failed, Imy, you, mother, Jimena, I failed everyone, why are you here?" She was rambling, and Trysten barely overheard the string of words.
"Riley, calm down, please," He whispered, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek and angling her face so she was looking at him. He was slightly surprised to see the emptiness in her eyes and it immediately registered. Tymmie, or someone near his skill level, had gotten to her, messed with her mind. "What do you remember?"
His voice was so soft sounding and reassuring, that Riley was already having a hard time believing her memories but she attempted to explain them anyways, "I saw… Imy said that she hated me, that I betrayed her and the Daughters. And you…you were a Follower, and it was my fault! I caved to my own inner desire to be free of the pressure, and because of that, you fell too." Trysten felt himself soften when he saw unshed tears collecting in the corners of her eyes, relieved to see that they weren't completely dead.
"Riley, I haven't fallen." Was all he said, and then added, "Imy doesn't hate you, in fact she's been worried sick about you to the extent that she asked for our help."
"But-" She protested, but she was cut off as Trysten pulled her into an embrace.
"I'm right here, everyone's all right. They lied to you, Riley." He murmured into her ear.
At first, she stood stock still against him, and an awkwardness settled between them but Trysten refused to let go. Slowly, hesitantly, she returned the embrace before she began to cling to him tightly, pressing her face into his chest as she let out a huge breath of relief. The two stood there silently for a few moments, as Trysten rested his head atop of hers and the feeling that this was undeniably right kept circling around his mind. It was then that he realized this was what he wanted from the moment he first set eyes on her a little over two months ago.
Riley's reaction was similar, she felt safe, like for only a moment she could entirely forget this stupid war and her fate. Her fists clenched around his shirt, as she tried to reassure herself that he was truly right in front of her, alive and with hope. "You're all right." She whispered, more to herself than to him.
"Yeah," He replied, his voice still as toneless as ever as he tightened his grip around her.
And it was in that moment of tranquility; that Riley's eyes widened and she realized the situation she had allowed herself to be tricked into. Trysten was safe, for now, the Daughters were as well. She had walked into this place of her own free will, had placed them all in danger due to her own stupid gullibility. She froze, which did not go unnoticed by the Lectus as he pulled away slightly to look at her, a question in his eyes.
Raw terror ripped into her heart as it dawned upon her. Both she and Trysten were here, surrounded by Followers, and seconds away from a Cold Fire. She had led him here, albeit unintentionally, but the fact still remained. Her conversation with Tymmie filtered through her mind, and her throat ran dry. Trysten was in peril, and it was all her fault.
Slowly, painfully, comprehension overcame her. There was no escape for her tonight, if she left, Yvonne would know, even worse, she would know that Trysten was here as well. Deep sorrow filled her chest, as she then understood what she had to do.
"You need to leave." She hated the way her voice shook.
"Not unless you're coming with me," Was all he said, taking her hand and already heading towards the exit.
"Trysten! Stop!" She stated with such finality that he halted in his tracks. She exhaled, "I can't go with you." She said; her words dripped in remorse.
"Why not?" Hurt reflected across his features and guilt overcame her.
"I made my choice, don't let me make yours."
"That doesn't make sense."
She bit her lower lip, "It makes perfect sense. What Tymmie said was right," At his name Trysten grimaced, "If I fall, I can't let you fall with me." Her voice was cold, but the tears welling in her eyes told him otherwise, "Don't you understand Trysten? You're the other one. They want you as the heir to the Atrox! I'm nothing to these people, you're the only one with the power to fight against them."
"There's no guarantee that I can resist them," He said somberly, "Not anymore. Each day that passes, my resolve grows weaker, Riley. You could be sacrificing yourself for someone who can't be saved."
"Isn't that what you're doing?"
The mood between the two shifted drastically as both Riley and Trysten reflected on her question, that was nowhere near an uncertainty. His head was staring at the floor as his fists repetitively clenched and unclenched as she tried to get her heart to stop pounding painfully within her chest.
"You don't have to do this," He spoke softly, his words embittered as he refused to look into her eyes.
She gave a hard swallow, "Yes I do." For you, for me, for everyone.
His head lifted, and she saw her pain mirrored in his eerie blue eyes that hid behind a curtain of unkempt, auburn hair, "I will stay. I will stay for you." The whispered confession surprised even him.
The saddest of smiles graced her lips as she tucked the unruly hair behind his ears, for once refusing to shirk away from her almost phobia of physical contact, "I can't ask you to do that."
"I can't leave you like this. I promised myself I wouldn't."
"Then leave and come back another day," She once again resumed gnawing on her lower lip, "Turn around and don't look back. Or you'll be stuck here." Just like me.
"Riley?" The voice carried over the crowds, as simultaneously Trysten and Riley's heads shot up to find the source, Yvonne, who was yelling for her at the opposite side of the club.
"Go." She muttered, "Before she senses you too."
Riley could feel the heavy sensation of uncertainty and regret that was clinging to him like a fog, his emotions playing with her own reservations about sacrificing herself to save Trysten. But she fought against them; tonight had enabled her to build up quite a steely will against doubt.
"Riley-" He started, reaching out for her again.
"Just go!" She said, her frustration shocking even her as it leaked into her tone.
Something Riley couldn't recognize flickered across Trysten's face, and she noticed that almost instantaneously, all of the uncertainty had vanished, replaced with determination and she felt some relief wash over her. At least now the both of them could resign themselves to their individual fates.
Trysten's left hand fisted into her hair and he whispered, almost impossibly quietly, "Goodbye, Riley."
"Good-" She tried to return his sentiments, but she was cut off as she felt something press against her mouth. Her initial reaction was to freeze up, going as rigid as a board until she realized, just then that Trysten was, in fact, kissing her.
Timidly, she responded, pressing back lightly, unsure of what to do. The simple little reply seemed to embolden him, as he grabbed her tightly against him and deepened the kiss, effectively freeing her previous inhibitions as she returned it full heartedly.
It was desperate, pleading, innocent, and bittersweet. This was their first kiss, and would more than likely be their only one. It was the singular most beautiful moment in Riley's life.
But it was over before it even began, as Riley could hear Yvonne's high-heeled shoes and calls coming closer. She broke away instantly, her eyes immediately darting to Trysten's face. He only stared at her, tracing his guitar-calloused thumb over her face gently as if trying to commit it to memory through touch. His eyes eventually met hers, and the message was understood. This was goodbye; no more words were needed.
It was his eyes that were the last thing she saw before he disappeared into the shadows, and the feeling of a heavy weight pressed down on her as she dutifully forced back the persistent tears in her eyes that kept threatening to spill.
A slender hand enclosed on her shoulder from behind and Riley heard the voice of Yvonne, although she couldn't process what she was saying for the life of her as her thoughts were solely centered on the auburn haired boy who had just taken her first kiss.
"Riley!"
Her head jerked up sluggishly to see a rather perturbed blonde Immortal.
"Where you even listening to me?" The honey that normally occupied her speech seemed to be dipped in poison, and Riley made a mental note not to ignore her.
"No." She answered bluntly and honestly.
Yvonne tilted her head sideways, "What's up with you? You seem frazzled."
"Nerves." Was the oh-so quiet reply.
The older girl shrugged her shoulders with a small 'hmph' noise of dismissal, "Best get over them now; the Incinti is ready to start the ceremony." Gingerly, Yvonne grabbed Riley's hand and began to navigate her through the crowd that parted immediately for the pair as several yellow eyes stared in fascination at the fifteen year old.
Numbly, Riley allowed herself to be dragged towards The Dungeon's namesake, the cellar that lay underneath the club, absently filtering the whispers that floated among the crowd.
"-She looks just like her-"
"-There's no way, it has to be Cassandra's-"
"-But, she almost looks like-"
"-Holy crap, I didn't know she was the Lecta!"
"-Same eyes."
Yvonne tilted her chin up in the most profound superiority as she continued to lead Riley through the danker parts of the dungeons. She shivered as she began to notice the air getting colder and colder as they walked along, until she could even see her breath freeze as she exhaled. Frost patterns began to form over the cobblestone halls and the torches that illuminated the cellar sputtered as they fought for life. Her pale eyes could make out a bluish glow at the end of the walkway, and she tensed.
"This is it, honey, no going back now," Yvonne attempted to reassure her as she halted, signaling for Riley to stop as well.
Her eyes widened when she looked at her surroundings, for there was, in the center of the room, a blue fire, hissing and crackling. Around it in a circle were several dark-hooded figures, and their dark auras were all Riley needed to sense to determine that these were the Incinti members, come to watch her miraculous fall.
Her attention turned back to the flames as they danced in the darkness. They were almost entrancing, and she stared at them as they beckoned to her, seeming to pull her in like a black hole. This was what had been calling to her in the nightmares. This was her escape, her freedom; her curse. She could almost hear the whispers and the wonderful promises that she knew were lies. This, despicable as it was, was where she belonged. Cautiously, she took a step forward, then another, and another, until she was an arm's length away from the roaring fire.
She traced her fingertips over the flames as if they were a delicate silk, and they licked at her in response. Desperately, in one last moment of rebellion, she tried to recall Imy's laughter, Jimena's concern, and Trysten's kiss, but felt empty when all she could seem to recollect were already blurring memories as the thoughts of the fire commanded all of her attention.
Somewhere, someone had begun the chant. "Lecta."
"Lecta."
"Lecta."
Tears were streaming down her face as she stood on the edge of the Cold Fire, although she wasn't sure why.
"Lecta."
"Lecta."
"Lecta."
She thought of her mother then, for reasons unknown, her poor, broken mother, and wondered absently if she was watching her fall in her footsteps.
"Lecta."
"Lecta."
"Lecta."
She took a deep breath, and was clutching at the most valuable memory, that of hope, before she prepared to step into the flames.
She was ready now.
"Lecta."
Her foot crept its way into the embers-
"Lecta."
-She closed her eyes and waited for the fire to consume her whole.
Imagine her surprise, when the chanting stilled to be replaced by an awed silence and for an arm to hook around her waist at the last possible moment, pushing her backwards and away from the tempting cold.
She landed ungracefully on her backside, the trance was broken, and her eyes widened when she saw the silhouette of her rescuer.
Trysten stared back at her, his eyes soft and impossibly warm, and it was in those few, fleeting seconds that Riley recognized his intentions, his plan from perhaps the very beginning.
She scrambled to get up, despite the fact that there were arms beginning to grab at her, preventing her from reaching her goal, "Don't!" She cried as loud as she possibly could.
Trysten said nothing, only gave her the most heartbreaking smile she had ever seen as he stepped backwards.
And she watched, in wide-eyed horror, as he burned in the fire that was meant for her.
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Hoped you guys liked it . Shocked? Surprised? No? Well, fine! (Nym goes into a corner to sulk)
Still looking for a beta/editor for this series (weeps uncontrollably) I know my chapters are kind of long, but I'll reward you handsomely. With what, I'm not sure but um…virtual ramen packets your kind of thing? Gift fic? Cameo? I don't care I'm desperate!
Next Up: Picking up the pieces, Riley's Savoir: The Aftermath
Two more chapters 'til The End ™ I'm so excited!
!nym!