Stumbling Along the Lines

Chapter 6

Koenma sat at his desk, twirling a pencil in his fingers. He was leaning over the polished wood, chin propped up by the palm of his hand as he stared dreamily off into space. Several minutes passed before Koenma spoke.

"Ogre!" he said, looking at George with a snap.

George jumped, startled by Koenma's sudden speech. "Yes sir?" he stood, trying to catch the papers he had thrown into the air.

"What do you think that girl's—Reo or Ranni, whatever her name was—powers are?"

George froze, obviously not used to people asking his personal opinion on things. "W-well, I think that there's a lot to consider," he said slowly, as if he half expected Koenma's question to be a rhetorical one. "They haven't studied her movements or compared them to all of our documented psychics," he said. "And nobody's studied anything based on her dreams or thought processes yet; there just hasn't been enough time."

Koenma nodded, seemingly paying attention. "I just can't stop thinking about how easy it'll be to catch criminals with someone who can watch their every mood!" Koenma crowed exultantly.

"B-but sir, er, Koenma sir, you haven't offered her a job, and it's not sure that she even has any p—"

"Minor details," Koenma said jovially, refusing to have his mood put down. "It'll be easy to get her to work here." He said, his words no longer directing themselves towards George, but towards his thoughts. "She won't belong on earth anymore, she won't know where to go, and if she still doesn't want to and blackmail won't work, we can implant a false memory that we saved her life or something," he half-plotted.

"Koenma sir, that's…That's wrong!" George said his jaw dropping.

Koenma stopped mid-reverie and stared at George, his eyes narrowing. Slowly he stood from his chair and walked over to the poor ogre, leaning in close. "I don't think you understand, Ogre! I don't run a soup kitchen here. I run a government. To keep everything working by doing all the things that we do, we need to function. We can't function without employees. And I will get those employees any way possible. Also, if you happen to let this slip or even mention it to another soul in your entire life," The papers in George's hands were shaking so hard that it was Koenma had to raise his voice. "I'll grab you by your leopard-skin undies and throw you to the craziest, most dangerous demon I can find! Do you understand?"

"Y-y-yes sir! I understand!" Said George, leaning away from Koenma so far that he fell backwards, accidentally throwing his papers into the air once more.

As Koenma sat back down at his desk, George looked up at the ceiling, watching the papers floating down to settle on his face and body. "My name is George," he said quietly.

The door creaked open noisily and Dr. Ventura peered into the dark room. The young prodigy, Dr. Bryce Key was in front of a large computer monitor, absorbed in a video of the young woman drawing on the wall. Every few seconds he would pause the video to make a note on one of the many sheets around him. As much as Dr Ventura disliked him for surpassing him at such a young age, he couldn't help but admit how brilliant Bryce was. No matter what anyone said, Dr. Ventura knew deep down that Bryce deserved the job he had more than any of the other psychologists, including himself.

"I have the research on the best known clairvoyants, psychics and seers for you," Dr Ventura said, stepping into the room, flipping on the light switch as he did so.

Bryce looked up, blinking and squinting, trying to see who had turned on the light. "What did you say?" He queried.

"The research. I have your research." He prompted, his dislike seeded from jealousy ebbing slightly as his eyes scanned over the deep lines in the young man's face. They didn't belong on such a young face and made a startling impression of one quickly aging. After placing the stack of papers on a nearby desk, he patted Bryce's shoulder in an almost fatherly way. "You need to rest. You're dead on your feet."

"I'll sleep after I finish this video," Bryce said, fatigue fraying the edges of his voice. His eyes wandered towards the stack of research papers, obviously eager to begin on them also. "Don't worry about me; I'm just here to do my job." He said, making an attempt at a smile, but it turned out as more of a grimace.

The wash of empathy suddenly faded, and Dr. Ventura stepped back, grimacing himself. "However you wish." He started stepping towards the door.

Bryce's mind was so clouded over with fatigue that he hadn't noticed the other doctor's tone change. "Thank you," he said sincerely as Dr. Ventura closed the door. Bryce was not sure he had heard him.

Amused chuckles reverberated around the room and gave the effect that the whole room was laughing. Bo, who was still stiff with fear, shuddered at the sound.

"Please, come and sit with me! I'd be delighted to have your company." Daichi's silken voice was easily heard across the large room. "I'd be delighted to have your company. How about some wine?" Daichi's voice was light and jovial, like that of a dinner host. Bo walked further into the room, towards the shadowy figure lounging on a dark leather sofa. Confusion was apparent in his eyes as he replied. "N-no, I'd rather not drink, my lord." He knelt in front of him, bowing his head.

There was silence for a moment too long. Bo felt a clawed finger trace the delicate skin on the underside of his jaw, pushing his head up so that his master could look him in the eye.

"It's very rude to refuse to have drinks with me when I have so graciously invited you to see me," his voice was low and silky smooth, but never before had Bo been so frightened by something so soothing. Nevertheless, the point had been made; nothing Daichi asked was actually a request.

Daichi traced shapes with the knuckle of his finger along Bo's jugular. He gulped. "I-I apologize. Please, forgive my manners." He tried to lower his head once more, but the moment he turned his head downward he felt his master's poisonous clawed finger pressing lightly on the underside of his jaw, threatening to break through the delicate flesh.

The golden slits Daichi had for eyes captured Bo's, drawing him in, reading his fears. Instantly, all of Bo's worst thoughts of his master sprang unbidden to his mind, clouding his eyes and ears. After a few moments, he was able to push past his mind and draw himself out of his own thoughts. Avoiding Daichi's eyes, he concentrated on the rest of his features.

Shockingly green, Daichi's skin stood out almost as much as his bright, electric blue hair. His blue-tinted teeth were warped by fangs, glistening in the lamp light when he smiled. His posture conveyed a laid back, comfortable man that was off his guard. If anything, Bo was positive he had the wrong impression. Every pore on Daichi's body leaked danger, along with a sickly sweet captivating scent.

"Come, sit by me, there's no need to kneel for so long," Daichi smiled, persuading him out of his paralyzing fear. Bo couldn't help but to smile back. Daichi's silted golden pupils captivated him, making the fear settle down in the back of his mind, now only giving off dulled warnings.

"Now," Daichi said, pouring a dark substance into a wine class and handing it to Bo, wrapping his arm over the back of the couch. He was sitting so close to Bo that it made his skin tingle. "Tell me about what happened," his breath tickled Bo's ear and the sweet smell filled his nose once again as he drained the wineglass in one gulp. Then he started with the story.

"Don't TOUCH me!" The voice echoed throughout the hallways, startling other patients in their rooms.

"Please don't struggle ma'am, I don't want to have to sedate you…"

"Don't even come near me!" Rio hollered, her back against the wall. In the absence of anything sharp or along blunt object, she had her arms crossed in front of her in a faux martial arts pose.

"Now, Miss Rio, please calm down, we don't want to hurt you," said the other orderly. They were both on the other side of the room, taking tentative steps towards her.

"We aren't going to hurt you," the shorter man said soothingly. "We're just going to escort you to a room where you'll be more comfortable."

In reply to this, Rio made a sound not unlike growling. "Bill, we're going to need it," the taller orderly gave a meaningful look to the shorter one, who gave a curt nod in reply. Bill left the room for a moment; a moment too long. Rio saw her chance at escaping and lunged at the tall orderly like a rabid animal.

They both fell to the floor with a thud, Rio clawing desperately at the man's face as he tried to force her to the floor. She bit his wrist, instantly drawing a squirt of blood that splattered across her white face and clothes. He yanked back his hand and yelled in pain while Rio tried to detangle herself from him.

"Oh my god, Isaac!" Bill said from the doorway. "We need some attendants in here!" He yelled into the hallway before yanking Rio off of the bleeding Isaac and forcing her face to the floor. She kicked and screamed, but a firm knee on the small of her back and a hand on the back of her head kept her down.

As Rio screamed threats and insults, hurried footsteps were heard in the hall.

"God, Isaac, what happened?"

"She's a feisty one, Eh?"

"Did you---"

"Shut up!" Bill said from above Rio. "Help me get her into a jacket!"

Many hands forced her forward into the sleeves of a straitjacket as she felt them cinching the notches tight behind her. She growled angrily as they yanked her up from the floor, lunging at every person within reach.

"Where are we taking her?" Said Isaac, holding his wrist as blood dripped from between his fingertips.

"You aren't taking her anywhere. I think she hit a vein, or maybe three, judging by how much you're bleeding." Said one of the orderlies. "She's supposed to go to one of the bigger wings; they've set her up a room with some art supplies. Although I can't see why," he glanced at Rio as she stared back at him, Isaac's blood drying on her face.

"Art…Supplies?" She asked cautiously, her voice slightly hoarse.

One of the younger men in the room that had entered when Bill called for help, hopeful and eager to calm her down, answered her quickly. "Yes! They've set you up a room filled to the brim with every kind of paint you can find, charcoal, pastels, pencils, you name it! Even the walls are blank if you want to use them."

Rio's eyes sparkled with the faintest glimmer of hope. "Really?" She whispered, afraid to believe him.

"Uh-huh. Now you can draw more. Isn't that nice? If you just come with us, we'll take you there."

She stopped struggling and stood quietly. The orderlies around her stared (and some gaped) in astonishment.

"That's great. How about I walk with you," he said soothingly, wrapping his arm around her waist. Behind her, he signaled at the other orderlies to follow. "We're just going to take it nice and easy while we walk down the hallway, okay?"

"Mm." She nodded. A few moments passed in silence before she voiced her question. "What's your name?" She looked at him.

"My name? Uh…" His eyes searched her face. "I'm Donovan. What's your name?" He asked kindly.

"I'm Rio," she said quietly, the corners of her mouth turning up.

"We're going to turn right here," he said, gently steering her.

"Why are you being nice?"

"Because I know what it feels like. I was here as a patient not too long ago."

Her eyes widened. "You were? Why? What do they do here?"

"This is a medical ward paid for by Koenma himself. He helps the unstable humans and demons and the like stabilize and have normal lives again."

"But I'm not unstable…" Rio muttered. "Why were you here?" She pushed.

"Well, you see…" He hesitated. "I'm a vampire," he announced.

Rio's instant reaction was disbelief. She laughed. "You're funny," she said.

His face was serious. He opened his mouth, baring his teeth. They were perfect. White, shiny…Pointy. Very pointy. Especially his canines. They were long, too. Much too long. In fact, when he closed his mouth, she could still see the white tips of them glimmering just under his top lip.

She jerked away in fear. "Y—y—y-y-you're a…" Her eyes were wide with fear.

"Shh." He pulled her back to him. "I'm not here to hurt you, remember? We're nothing like what TV tells you. I won't…Bite you." He grimaced, as if the last words pained him.

"I believe you," Rio said, surprising herself.

I do believe him, she thought to herself. But why, is it because he seems to be like me? She decided that was it.

Dominic's eyes crinkled into a smile. "We're here," he said, giving her a slight push into her new accommodations.

The room color-wise was just as plain as her first room. It was easily twice as big, with a bathroom visible from the doorway. Her clothes were hanging in a small closet, and the curtains had been pulled back to reveal the same fountain of the women with brooms up close. The room was filled with cubbies and shelves filled with art supplies. There was even a bookshelf stocked with art books which held every kind of paper Rio could think of.

"It was true," Rio gasped, looking with wonder at the room. She didn't even feel the straps on her straight jacket loosen or Dominic take it off. "Is this all for me?" She said in wonder.

"All of it," Dominic released his hold on her waist. "You'd better get started," he said.

"Will you draw with me?" She said irrationally, filled with the hope of a child.

"No, but I'll be back later. This is my ward, after all." The door clicked shut with a soft ch-chak that Rio didn't hear, her hands already buried in a mound of multicolor pencils.