Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nada. Not even Stanton. Certainly not Tymmie. :(
Author's Note: :) And yet another update! … but no reviews! I cannot tell you how much this saddens me, because it really doesn't take all that much time to locate the little blue button at the bottom of the page, and submit a few sentences stating your admiration of me and my writing… lol. But seriously, no reviews depress me, and then I get writers block… just when you thought I was doing so good at updating regularly! :)
Suddenly, a shadow descended from the air, materializing next to them. It was Tymmie.
"Tymmie! What are you doing here?" Castrata's voice came out in a rush.
Tymmie paused, confusion flashing through his eyes. And suddenly, Castrata realized her mistake. While those words might be perfectly natural for Castrata to say, she was not Castrata. Or, at least she wasn't supposed to be. She was Lizolet. And she had not acted like Lizolet.
"Is there a reason I shouldn't be here, my dear Lizolet?" his voice was filled with false flattery, but behind the resentful façade, Castrata sensed a struggle.
"We were just wondering what you were doing here," Ariasti whispered in Chantelle's voice, "when you're supposed to be working on those Daughters."
Tymmie's features twisted for a fraction of a second. "I've been pulled off of duty on the Daughters, as you know perfectly well, Chantelle. After all, you two are the one's who've been assigned my spot."
Castrata froze for a fraction of a second. Tymmie was no longer actively searching out the Daughters? What had he done wrong? His feelings got in the way, that nasty little voice inside of her said, it's your fault he got switched jobs. No! If anything, I did him a favor—that's not the kind of job anybody should have anyways, the sensible side of her argued back.
Castrata shook her head slightly, clearing her thoughts. And then she realized what a brilliant jewel of information Tymmie had just handed them.
"Of course, Tymmie, you've said that before. And, in fact, you're just the person we were looking for, isn't he, Chantelle?" Castrata added, because Ariasti was giving her a 'what-the-heck-are-you-doing' look.
"Of course, of course," Ariasti nodded, just barely concealing the confusion Castrata knew she was feeling.
"What do you want from me?" Tymmie asked, resigned.
"We need to know what progress is being made on the Daughters," Castrata said, perhaps a little too quickly. "Don't leave anything out—we don't want to try something that's obviously a failure."
Tymmie looked annoyed, but made no further comment as he began. "It's complicated," he stated. "The majority of the problems that you will encounter with these Daughters are completely different from those you'd encounter with other Daughters." He paused, waited for 'Lizolet's' nod, and continued. "They're far more powerful than we're used to—in different ways. We've been having trouble determining just how far their powers extend—both individually, and in terms of their group's sheer strength."
Castrata narrowed her eyes, knowing that it was perfectly acceptable to do so—the grimace of distaste was certainly just as characteristic of Lizolet as it was of Castrata.
"Why?" Ariasti demanded, making Chantelle's hazel eyes flash menacingly.
"You don't know?" Tymmie looked slightly taken aback, "why should I tell you?" He demanded, his face going hard, "you're the ones who have taken over for my job."
"Because I asked them to." The voice was even, calm and deadly.
It was a voice Castrata was only too familiar with.
"Stanton?" Tymmie asked, nervously. "I wasn't aware you were involved with this lovely transfer of jobs." His voice somehow managed the degree of respect required, while still seeming menacing and betrayed.
And it was true, Castrata realized—the Followers had alliances within their own ranks. Her father and Tymmie had been allies, and Tymmie now felt betrayed that Stanton had removed Tymmie from his high-power job.
"Relax, Tymmie," Stanton said calmly, as if his thoughts had followed the same pattern as Castrata's. "I have not done anything rash." His mouth curved up slightly in an ironic sneer. "I had nothing to do with your re-assignment. However," he continued, "as Prince of the Night, I have a right and a need to know all the assignments of my Followers. Do you not agree?" The words were phrased as a question, but it could not be more clear to Castrata that the menace had been more apparent in the last sentence than any of the previous ones.
"Of course," Tymmie murmered, with a slight bowing of his head.
Stanton turned to Castrata, who had a second of utter terror at the thought of being recognized, before realizing that he was merely looking to Lizolet for a report.
"We have nothing new to report, Prince," she murmered. "As you well know, Chantelle and I have not been on the job long. We currently are re-tracing the paths Tymmie has tread while we try to find new ones of our own."
Stanton nodded absently. "And what do you need to know?"
Castrata hesitated, licking her lips. This was the moment—it was now or never. "We're missing what we believe could be some vital information. We require more knowledge about Selene—so as to better understand the powers her Daughters may possess."
Stanton nodded. "Excellent. You have my permission to continue your search." He paused, and then, "I've told the archive rooms to remain open," he gestured vaguely in the direction of a huge stone building Castrata assumed held the archives, "You will be allowed to search the records tonight, and tonight only." He paused again, and smiled, revealing what appeared to be pointed teeth. "Tomorrow, you will be needed. Tomorrow night is the night."
"The night for what?" Ariasti asked, before Castrata could stop her.
Stanton looked disgusted, "God, Chantelle, don't you know anything?" His penetrating glare turned on the one person in the world it didn't impact—Castrata. "Lizolet—you haven't told her yet?"
Castrata shook her head. But as she carefully concealed all her thoughts, she did what she knew Lizolet would do—she whispered into Stanton's mind. And do you blame me?
His silent laugh echoed through her mind. It was all the answer she needed.
Stanton turned to Ariasti. "Tomorrow night is the night the Atrox has been waiting for for decades. Tomorrow night," he paused for effect, "Is the night of the New Moon."
Ariasti/Chantelle frowned. "But I thought tonight was the New Moon."
Stanton sighed with impatience. "It is, Chantelle, and so is tomorrow night. It's a rare phenomenan, and happens only once every few centuries. It's the time that the Atrox has the most power, because not only do the Daughters not expect it—but it is also the darkest the Earth ever becomes. The day Followers have the most power. And tomorrow…" he trailed off.
"Tomorrow?" Tymmie asked eagerly. Castrata could tell that Tymmie was already being caught up in the bloodlust of the entire event.
Stanton smiled, a cold, chilling smile that left his eyes dead. "Tomorrow we kill the Daughters. Once and for all."
Author's Note: Reviews please! Mucho love to all of you! :)