Chapter 5: Who Are We But Warriors, Puppets and Fools?

"Dark Waters" was your typical dingy dive bar owned and operated by Clan Phyrehawk. The ceiling and walls had once been a nice off white with a deep cherry chair rail and cherry paneling at the bottom. The floors were once a deep, crimson cherry hardwood as well. This was many centuries ago. Now the walls were discolored from ages of smoking and grimy hands. The beautiful cherry floors were scuffed into a foggy, dull finish. There was a hanging cloud of smoke from the ceiling and the lights had a grime on them that muted them down to proper "dingy bar" levels. Chatter filled the air as members of the Clan sat about the many tables and saddled up to the ebony and cherry bar. The bar was the focal point of the room. It was a large half circle, solidly connecting to the back wall on both sides. The bar itself was carved ebony, depicting scenes described in the "Tome of the Penumbra" across the front of it. The top of the bar was solid crimson cherry with inlaid ebony phoenix designs, and the whole thing was a gorgeous high gloss. The wall behind the bar was a huge, well lit, sheet of frosted glass, ceiling to chair rail and ran the length of the bar. Off to one side was an invisible door in the glass which accessed the bar serving area from a back hallway, and was the only way behind the bar, unless you were foolish enough to jump it. The Clan's emblem, an attacking phoenix, adorned the glass wall. It was etched into the frosted glass with colorful enamels of the brightest reds, yellows, and oranges. Clear glass shelves were then run on the unadorned portions of frosted glass, with every liquor imaginable, legal and illegal. All were available in a never ending and never questioned supply.

"Clan Members Only" and the building being private property allowed this bar to do as it pleased. Smoking inside was to be expected, alcohol was served at all hours, gambling in the back if you liked, and fresh blood available, kept at body temperature, on tap. Everything was free to the Clan, after all, what does an immortal need with cash. The Clan funded itself with many outside ventures and business. Clan Phyrehawk was never for want of anything. And they could celebrate with the best of them.

The chatter subsided as team Darkblayde walked in through the ebony and cherry doors. The bartender looked up. He was a young, handsome lad. Only 450 years old, and looking not a day over 30. His soft sandy brown hair fell across his forehead in a sweep to the side and his blue eyes were deep, with the knowledge of centuries, but always rimmed with humor. His clan name was a mystery to most, he was known to all as Kelly Fitzpatrick. His name might be lost but his story is legend. Descendant of a Polish-Italian heritage, he was rescued from a burning village he resided in just outside of Prague. He was sired into the Clan centuries ago, but was quickly found to be not much of a fighter. He could defend himself with a blade, surely, but his heart was not in dealing death. He found that he was more a consultant then a warrior. He was quick with a joke, good with advice and had the ability to make everyone and anyone smile. When the Clan found themselves in need of a new bartender, he was a natural choice, and he loved the idea. He finally felt like he had a true calling in Clan Phyrehawk. With not a stitch of Irish blood in him, he adopted a very convincing Irish brough and changed his name to Kelly Fitzpatrick. Only a few knew that the accent, and his name were not real. He remembered every name, every face, every drink preference and spoke over a dozen different languages, and had never in his tenure as "Dark Waters" bartender had to break up a brawl. He could read people and intervene before things got out of hand. Darkblayde was special to him. While a senior member of Clan Phyrehawk had sired him it was Star, Hardcore, Rage and Shade who rescued him from the flames. Wolf, Stone and Mind had joined later, but the original four members of Darkblayde were his friends. He smiled as Darkblayde made their way to his bar, poured seven wine balloons of the blood, and started breaking out the alcoholic chasers of choice.

Rage was first to the bar with an ear to ear grin. "Kelly, me boy, how goes the evening?" He said, mimicking Kelly's Irish accent. Rage felt a kinship with Kelly. Many could make him smile, Kelly could make him laugh. Kelly smiled at him and handed him his blood and his shot of 151.

"If it ain't the wee one coming to the tavern for a swig of the local goods. I hear ye been upta yer elbows in zombie giblets tonight. Well, Kelly, here's got just what'll fix what ails ya." His accent was thick this evening, bordering on incomprehensible. It caused Rage to shake his head and laugh.

"Whatever ya hand me Kelly is what I drink. I trust you." Rage said in a normal voice, and Kelly turned and laughed once as he walked away a bit to attend to the others.

Everyone had a glass of blood. Star, Shade and Mind did a shot of whatever Kelly surprised them with, Hardcore and Wolf had beer, Rage had his 151, Stone had a Vodka and Cranberry. A toast with the liquor to a successful evening, and then the blood was drank. The use of their skills to conceal themselves, move faster and physically abuse their bodies was a drain on their systems. The blood helped replenish what they lost like food does for a normal human. There was something about the blood, warming the stemware, and slipping in undulating waves on the glass that was enthralling. Viscous and almost lazy in it's nature, and the most beautiful burgundy color, like a highly polished, precious ruby.

After the toast Star was feeling a little withdrawn. She found her normal booth off the side of the bar, and sat with her back to the wall. She watched the patrons of "Dark Waters" with detached interest. One leather clad leg across the booth cushion and the other on the floor. Her stem ware held delicately in her hand, resting on tabletop, her mind analyzing the endless patterns her blood made on the walls of the glass. Shade sat on the otherside of the booth and watched the vacantness pass in and out of Star's eyes. Star was thinking of everything and nothing of times changing and history lost. If she were human it would be time getting the best of her. But it's the passage of time around her that was depressing her now. Empires rose and fell, wars were won and lost, friends made and lost, all to the ravages of time. She was remembering the many humans who befriended her undercover self. The ones who knew her truth and did not want the embrace. High level sympathizers and undergrounds alike. All eventually lost. Star felt tears in her eyes and blinked them back. No use in crying, it changed nothing. She was the Clan's killer and she would continue to do this until someone bested her. She felt she was in for a long wait, and cracked a slight smile.

Wolf leaned on the bar and watched Star. He was concerned. Her depression had been getting to her and she spent more time then usual, locked in her thoughts. He didn't know how to reach her. He looked at her lounging in the booth, and his fingers ached to touch her. She had smooth porcelain skin under her battle worn leathers. Skin only he saw and only he touched. He heaved a great sigh for he knew he could please her body, but her heart and soul were somewhere else. He didn't want some of Star, he wanted her total, body and soul. She looked up and met his eyes. He saw a brief film of tears there and then it was gone, and she smiled for him. It was a dazzling smile, but didn't extend to her eyes. He gave her a half hearted smile, knowing that he was mirroring her own hidden feelings. He knew it wasn't him, or at least he was fairly sure it wasn't him that was the issue. "Go to her." A voice said and Wolf looked over his shoulder. It was Kelly, he had left behind his Irish for a moment. Wolf looked at him, and back to Star. Kelly looked at Wolf's troubled eyes and nodded once. "Ghosts of her past haunt her and she needs you, more then ever to keep her in today and not drift into the past. Go, and keep her mind in the present. And if that doesn't work, ravage her body, I'm sure she can't ignore that." And smiled at Wolf and headed back down the bar. Wolf watched his retreating back and looked back to Star. Kelly was right, she needed him, and he'd be damned if he'd fail her now. He drained the dregs of his beer, grabbed his stemware and moved for the booth.

Shade saw Wolf makes his move and got up from the table. They needed time and she needed something to do. Boredom was eating at her. Her only loss from her previous life were her children. What that bastard that sired her did with her children and husband before taking her, she didn't know, and she never did find them. However she refused to let that haunt her. She tried to only remember the good and ignore the bad. The rest of her past was the kind of history that could afford to be lost to the sands of time. She wandered over to Stone, Mind and Rage. Rage and Stone were comparing their experiences of the evening, and had collected a good sized circle of entertained patrons as they told their epic tale. 8 zombies became 800 and it was them against the world with unbeatable odds stacked against them. Shade smiled into her glass as she took a sip of the viscous crimson, and savored the texture and warmth of the fluid on her tongue. Rage stood with one booted foot up on the seat of the chair, leaning forward with his forearms on that knee. Stone stood, his height enhanced by all the seated bodies around him. Troubadours were not lost, they just stopped singing. These two turned out to be very good storytellers, and Shade decided to have a seat and see where the story went next and see if she could recall any of the evening coming close to what these two were describing. So far, she was convinced that she must have fallen asleep in the car and they went on an adventure without her. She laughed as they carried on. Mind sat with her legs up on another chair, arms folded across her ample chest and just kept shaking her head at the tall tale being woven before her. She smiled at Shade as Shade took up a seat next to her.

Hardcore was quiet and observed everything from a distance. Being in a crowd was too much, but being alone was intolerable. So he stayed at the bar, watched the crowd and talked with Kelly. When he was done his beer and his blood he moved off the barstool and down the hall. He headed through a door on the left. On the other side of the door there was a tiny hall. On his left the door leading to the serving area of the bar, on his right, the kitchen. When he couldn't fit in, he went to the kitchen. It was his release. Kelly knew that after every run, he would unwind by creating some sort of devilishly good meal for the team. Tonight he felt steak was in order. Seared on the grill, a nice medium rare, and seasoned to perfection. Fresh scalloped potatoes, in his own sauce, a 150 year old recipe still being perfected and a favorite of everyone. Maybe some broccoli in a butter and garlic sauce. Whoever decided that Vampires didn't care for garlic obviously never shared a meal with this group, especially Stone and Star. They were garlic fiends. Hardcore smiled to himself and set out to find all the ingredients he needed for his meal. Calm washed over him and the noise of the bar faded away.

Wolf slipped in the booth next to Star and put his arm around her. No words were needed. She huddled into his chest like a frightened child, and listened to his heart for a bit. Her other thoughts drifted and vanished. Wolf could always bring her back to reality again. Star did not know why the spells were coming over her, but she did not like it and could not wait to find a way to stop it. She would be thinking of nothing and then, in a sudden flood, memories long forgotten would come back to haunt her. Wolf was one of few ways back out of the mists of memory. He smelled of whatever the newest cologne was and she loved it. He ran his fingers on her neck and up into her hair, and kissed her neck. The sight of the kiss on her neck, the contact of his lips and the feel of his breath on her flesh made a tingle start from that point and race through her body like wildfire. She suddenly wanted more of him. She heaved a great sigh, grabbed his hand and made to get up. He rose and followed her to the door. Out into the night they went. Across the street to the apartment complex also owned by Clan Phyrehawk where everyone was housed. They walked with their arms around each others hips and once home, allowed Wolf to steal her away from her demons. This would be the last time her demons would haunt her for a long while. The night was only just beginning for all of them.