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-Lullaby for a Stormy Night

Krista

One hand held a cigarette, the other drifted through my short black hair. I drew the cancer stick to my lips and saw the burning end blaze red as I sucked in deeply. Funny name cancer sticks… for so long my family teased me about my unhealthy habit. But isn't it ironic now? Here I was the one poisoning my body with the pale grey smoke that curled from my nose and mouth as I exhaled smoothly. Maybe I was just lucky.

"Hey." I called down to the young man behind the counter of the Canadian bar. "Another," I said shaking the empty shot glass at eye level so he would see.

"You sure honey? This will be your fourth one." The heavily built, blond bartender tried to lecture me. He pulled a bottle from below, smirking at me like I was some ignorant child who was robbing her father's liquor cabinet for the first time.

"I'm sure sweetheart," I replied in a mocking tone leaning forward and narrowing my eyes. Silently he filled my empty glass with a fresh shot of whiskey. I swirled the caramel colored liquid and watched the colors change in the dim bar lighting. Wild Turkey they called it. Not much of a hard liquor fan myself, but the occasion I found myself in called for something stronger than wine. I knocked back the glass enjoying the way the burn in my throat soon evolved into a warmth in my stomach. It was a familiar feeling to have. Quickly I exchanged the rim of the empty glass with another drag of my cigarette.

I was tempted to call for another shot when another body slipped quietly next to me at the bar. She was a thin thing with unevenly cut short hair that sat just below her chin. Her face looked drawn and her eyes seemed sunken in. "This seat taken?" she asked in a low voice.

"Be my guest." She finished settling in, thanking me with a nod of her grimy face. My new friend's broken fingernails rapped on the counter, exposed by grungy fingerless gloves that matched the rest of her worn out clothes.

"What can I get you to drink, darlin?" the bartender asked, clearly not at all interested in the poor looking girl.

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, looking back with distrust like a cornered animal. "Give her one of these," I said gesturing to my glass with the end of my cigarette. Pieces of ash slowly dropped to the counter with the movement. "And make it a double, on me."

"Thank you," she muttered.

"No problem, what can I call you anyway?"

"Gene," she replied, light glancing off her stormy green eyes. "You?"

"Krista of course," I smirked back at her. By then her own glass was filled with twice what mine could hold. She upturned the contents into her mouth in one swift motion.

I took one final puff from the lit cigarette before crushing it into my used glass. I dropped a few multicolored bills onto the table, probably over paying the man, but I didn't care. Before I took off for the door, I purred into the girl's ear and slipped a piece of folded paper into her thin hand. "You should come by my room later. I'll be waiting." She crumpled it in her fist as I left the faded scene and into the streets.

…

A few hours had passed, I waited patiently in my motel room. Another cigarette smoked between my fingers as I slouched in a chair, facing the locked door of the shady motel room. Tonight I was much to nervous to do much else. If she did show up, well… it would mean something big, and something that I wasn't sure of. Really it could change my life in one way or the other.

I had dressed for the occasion, dressing down to just a tight black T-shirt that highlighted my toned abdominals and biceps. Black jeans hung low on my hips leaving a white band of bared skin between the pieces of clothing. My hair was gelled back, the front smoothed down to form a sleek, edgy look that flowed back behind my ears. I was as ready as I could be.

At last a knock thudded on my door. I rose from my perch, extinguishing the butt of my cigarette in an ash tray. The now free hand replaced what it had its grip on with the handle of a broad knife the length of my forearm. I crept from the right side of the door, leaning in to peer through the eyehole. Bundled up, I could barely recognize the woman from the bar. Quickly I unlocked the door and reeled her in. She stumbled through the open door but didn't have the chance to even think about falling because I had her pinned to the wall in seconds.

"You have a minute to prove yourself." I growled into her ear. Her face remained stoney even in the threatening presence of my blade at her neck. Slowly she unzipped and drooped her dirty coat to the floor. She then did the same with the threadbare hoodie underneath. Left in only an off-white wife beater, I backed off quickly. She stood proudly; much thinner then I had ever seen her before. The same scarred skin snaking up the backs of her upper arms and over her shoulders.

But the tell tale signs of her identity were the folded fans strapped to her pronounced rib cage and a single tattoo visible on her chest.

"So, it's true then. You are alive." I whispered before bowing to my once renowned leader, "Mistress Senshi, how may I serve you?"

Serena

I knelt down to met my old friend, "You no longer bow to me sister. What I will ask of you is only out of our past friendship and bond. It is not an order."

"But Senshi—"

"Serena," I corrected. For it was true I was not who I used to be. She still saw me as someone else, someone I had turned myself into. I just wasn't her anymore.

"Serens, how is it possible? When I got your message it had only been a month since we were told of your death." She continued, leading me to take a seat on the edge of her lumpy bed. I toke it gladly after redressing, feeling suddenly weak and tired. What energy I had was gone again. It seemed to always be so fleeting now.

"Krista, what I tell you tonight must be kept a secret. No one else may know."

She bowed her head and accepting the request, understanding the seriousness in my tone. Taking a shaky breath, I retold the events of the past four months. I told of falling out of the clan, how I lived the night that I was intended to be killed on, how I had barely survived, homeless in the Canadian winter. I even shared with my past sister in arms some of the time I had spent with Raphael and the turtles. The only information I refused to share was the feeling in my chest when I said his name, and what Aaron had really down. The truth was hardly twisted, but there still were certain things I needed to keep her safe from.

After all my cards were laid out on the table, Krista sat back in stunned silence. "I don't believe it," she finally muttered, "all we knew about New York is wrong."

"Yes, and I am sorry for that. I have brought the clan into troubled waters."

"Now you can come home though. Everyone will understand and we can—"

"No," I stopped her right in her tracks.

Her electric blue eyes were fully of confusion and denial, "What do you mean no? We can work things out. Separate fully from the Japanese and American clans if we have to. We're strong enough and we can become our own power, with you as our queen." She was trying so hard, pleading me to not disappear.

"Oroku Saki would kill you all. He would do it without a second thought to get to me. I am a traitor Krista. I must remain dead." I said with a shaky breath, further weakened by the effort of adding force to my words. Krista immediately backed down with a tight jaw, clearly not wanting to exhaust me. "Did you remember what I asked of you?"

Calmly she stood and collected a drawstring bage from the drawer of a battered dresser. "All is in here. Passport, I.D., drivers licenses, cash: the works."

"Thank you."

She smiled before taking a seat next to me. "For everything you've done for my brother, for both of us…"

"Marco was a good man. It was my pleasure to be with him till the end. You forget I know what it is like to lose a brother, which is why I could be there for you too." I smiled resting a hand on her shoulder.

"If it wasn't for you, I never would have found him." It was true. The two had been separated at birth. Marco was brought straight into the world of serving the Foot Clan. Another stolen child of the old ways. Krista had been raised by an aunt, fully aware of needing to find her missing brother. It was thanks to my relationship with Marco that I found her. For the last year of his life he was able to grow close to his long lost sibling again.

"And that is the greatest gift I have ever given."

She looked at me with empty eyes. A strand of black hair had fallen from its sturdy hold and into her solemn face. "What are we going to do without you?"

"You will move on, as you must. There is one more matter of business to discuss."

"What?"

I took a deep breath before standing and facing her head on. "I, Serena Della Notte, adopted daughter of Oroku Saki, leader of the Sicilian order of the Foot Clan, hereby pass my title and its responsibilities to you, Krista Devozione. Do you accept everything that comes with this honor?"

With a shocked but understanding expression, she humbly kneeled before me. "I do, sister."

"Then it shall be my old friend, you will lead the clan into a new age." I motioned for her to rise again, "Aaron is not strong enough to take command and not abuse the power. To anyone who asks this is prearranged before my absence. All the proof you need is in my old bedroom back home. Your smart, you can do it."

"This is truly the last time I will ever see you isn't it?" The usually hard voiced girl asked with a break in her voice.

"Perhaps, and perhaps not. I left some unfinished business in New York. After matters are settled, our paths may cross again."

Her brow furrowed at me, "If you go back to New York what is to stop Saki from killing you?"

My hands rested just above her elbows, "You deserve the truth Krista. And the truth is nothing can stop him. But there is something in New York that matters more."

Suddenly I was swept into a back breaking hug by the bigger girl. She hadn't changed any, but I had lost much of my previous size. But I didn't care. She was my last connection to my life in Italy. My life with Marco. Her eyes held the same glint of hope shinning deep within. "I hope our paths do cross again."

Krista had to stay safe. She was truly my sister and I was so grateful to have known her. I had great doubt in seeing her again, but the tears in the corners of my eyes told the truth about the hope that I felt. When we broke the embrace we both were crying and we each laughed at one another.

"Take care of yourself, and get something to eat. Your thinner that a Milan model during swimsuit season." She called roughly as I turned to leave with the bag containing my alias. It was time to stop hiding and face the new life I had made for myself.

"Good-bye, Krista." I took one last look at the strong woman before the door shut, separating us.