Fandom: Night World, LJ Smith

Disclaimer: Whee. It isn't mine. But you may have guessed that.

Dedication: Two of 'em – firstly, to MLTR! We'll always be together. And secondly, Madelin W, I'm afraid this one goes to you.

Summary: The fourth and final Wild Power needs to be found, and time is running out. Circle Daybreak is taking more desperate measures. But is accepting the aid of a traitor to the Night World desperation or brilliance? And what about their own agent - loose cannon Belladonna Turner?

Author Note at the end.

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Where There's Moonlight, I See Your Eyes

Chapter Six

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I woke up the next morning to the raucous, painful sounds of some stupid dimwitted little bird twittering inanely outside the window.

Bloody bird. I mumbled something to myself, trying to snuggle deeper into the safe comfort of sleep, tucking myself more firmly against the cool pillow at my side. In time, the chirping stopped and I felt myself dropping off once more, and I sighed contentedly as I felt strong arms tighten around me and –

Wait. What?

Repeat that last part. Pause, rewind, and play.

I cautiously opened one eye, and then the other. Wait, where the fu – oh. Right. Night World, Crowley Crystal, undercover as a pawn, and as they said in the King and I – etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

Wait. That didn't explain the arms I felt around me, or the hard, muscular torso my own arm was draped across. I warily lifted my head and immediately wished I hadn't. That, and prayed to whatever deities who may exist that the vampire who had shared my bed would not wake up to find us in this extremely compromising position.

I knew we had gone to sleep side-by-side, as innocently as it was possible considering that Nick had a body made for sin –

Um, I meant that in the whole bloodsucking soulless vampire way. Just so we're clear.

And now, we'd ended up tangled with each other as though we'd just – yeah, okay, much too strong a visual to settle on oneself this early. No use priming myself for a cold shower when I had to figure out how to get out of bed first.

Nick's arms were around me, holding me close to him, and as exciting as that sensation was, it wouldn't do for him to wake up and find us this way.

Don't ask me why not, it just didn't seem like a good idea.

In turn, I had one arm across Nick's chest, my hand splayed out on his flat stomach. My head was leaned against his shoulder, and my other arm was under me.

Okay. I could do this. I slowly raised my head, trying not to breathe or move too suddenly – Nick was lamia, and the slightest movement could wake him up. Equally slowly, I dragged my hand across his abdominal muscles, slowly moving it off. My heart nearly stopped when Nick moaned – what? Oh my. I blushed when I realized that the caressing sensation of my moving hand must've tickled him in his sleep – funny, I never thought he'd be ticklish. Just to be on the safe side, I didn't move for a few minutes, willing him to sink deeper into slumber. He actually looked quite innocent in sleep – more handsome than dangerous. Usually he had one foot in each area – a strange mix of deadliness and physical perfection. When asleep, that dangerous air was muted. Nick's pale blond hair was as beautiful in sunlight as it was when drenched in moonlight. His ephemeral eyelashes were light-looking, yet so long that they gave the illusion of resting on his cheeks. It was nice being able to stare at him without some sort of biting, icy comment directed my way, or having to meet his own glacial eyes. But then I remembered last night, where he had sensed me gazing at him; and I quickly snapped out of it.

Once my arm was off his stomach, I tried to wriggle out of his arms without actually moving – not an easy feat. Not even slightly accomplishable. Failing that, I rolled to the opposite side of the bed, breaking out of his arms gently. Once free, I quickly got to my feet – DAMN the floor was cold! – grabbed my bag and darted into the bathroom.

It only struck me when I was brushing my teeth how strange it felt now, how chilly and, well, empty things felt. It wasn't a mental sensation – it was physical. My arms actually ached now that Nick wasn't in them –

Whoa, where was this going? Damned if it wasn't 'mental' – I was going freaking mental. I had a job to do, and I wasn't going to screw it up – the fate of the world was in the balance.

One (cold) shower later, I stepped out of the bathroom in clothes I had spent several minutes choosing – quite a feat for someone who only wears jeans. I had on a pair of dark jeans that hugged me tightly but also allowed me to move, and a sleeveless tight gray top. It'd be bit of a stretch to call it 'trashy', but I couldn't risk dressing like a floozy – uh, pawn, tonight – Ragnar would be arriving at sunset. It was after noon already, I had slept for about ten or eleven hours. In fact…I risked a peek at the bed – it was empty, Nick was nowhere to be seen.

"Took you a while." A wintry voice came from my left, and I spun to see Nick leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door. Still clad in only those black boxer-briefs. I hastily averted my eyes.

"We overslept," I muttered.

That bloody eyebrow bloody rose. Bloody AGAIN. "No, we didn't. You did."

My mouth fell open in disbelief. "Excuse me? You got up later than I did!"

"Yes, but that's when I planned to wake up. You overslept. I woke up at the precise time I wanted to."

Okay, too much. Too much infuriating Nick too early – okay, not early. It was the afternoon, for God's sake. Too much infuriating Nick, full stop.

"Ragnar will be here soon, I'm assuming," I said, glancing out the window. "The sun's still pretty high in the sky, but sunset can't be too far away."

"Two more hours," Nick said, before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door.

Wonderful. Two more hours cooped up in this room.

About thirty minutes later when Nick emerged from the bathroom, I was so bored and desperate for someone to talk to that I would have happily nailed him down and duct-taped his mouth shut just so he would listen to me. Note that I said talk to and not talk with. Mwahaha.

"Circle Daybreak and the inner circle are probably going nuts right about now," I observed, still staring out the window and willing the sun to go down. "They always assume the worst when left to their own conclusions."

Unsurprisingly, there was no answer. I turned and said a little irritably, "You know, would it kill you to engage in normal conversation?"

Nick turned towards me and my eyes widened slightly – for once, he wasn't wearing black. Or at least, all black. He had on a white button-down shirt and black jeans – although now I knew why he favored black. While black contrasted beautifully with his stunning eyes and hair, white complimented them so much that he was almost blinding to look at.

"Would it kill you to not chatter inanely for just a few minutes?" was the glacial reply, as he continued drying his hair with a towel.

I scowled. "Listen, Nick, I've been cooped up in this room for way too long – I'm going stir-crazy. I'm suffering from cabin fever. Now, it's either you talk to me – and I'm aware that I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel here – or I swear to God, I will kill myself and then return and haunt you. Forever."

A corner of Nick's mouth quirked, and in a tone he must have used to pacify rabid shifters, he said, "Please, don't take the trouble of killing yourself. I'd be glad to do it for you."

I smiled, despite myself. Well, it was sort of a joke, wasn't it? It'd be funny if it wasn't from him. "Does that mean you're talking?"

Nick inclined his head gracefully. "No. You're talking; I'm trying to tune it out but contributing from time to time."

"I'll take what I can get." Hah. That was practically an invitation to bombard him with questions, wasn't it?

Okay, maybe not. But I was taking it as such.

"So, it's just Nick? No last name that goes with that?"

Nick sank more comfortably onto the bed, his back leaning against the headboard. I, remembering this morning, did not move from my perch on the chest-of-drawers on the opposite side of the bed.

"There is a last name. But it's not exceedingly important."

"What if it's important to me?"

"Then I would say that your priorities need revamping," Nick said, shooting me an intense look.

"I think my priorities are just fine, thanks, and I was merely curious. Okay, so no last name. Huh. What about family?"

"What about it?" Nick said lazily, his eyes half-closed.

"Well, do you have any?"

"Obviously. Where or who they are, isn't important either."

"Is there anything that's important to you?!" I asked, frustrated once more. Man, maybe even not-talking was less damaging to my delicate psyche than this was. Okay, what delicate psyche? More like hair-trigger temper.

"Myself."

Ah, the typical lamia answer. Still, I wasn't done.

"Yourself? What, no soulmate?" My tone when I said that word was dripping with sarcasm and contempt.

Nick sat up at this. "You don't believe in the soulmate principle?"

I scoffed. "Of course I do – all my friends have found theirs. And it's hard to not believe it when you've seen it happening. But I just don't believe that it's all it's cracked up to be."

"And why is that?"

"I don't know – it just seems painful. Like, my friend Gill – she's a lost witch, a Harman – she describes it as having part of your soul walk around outside of your body. I don't know, but I think I'd prefer having a whole soul."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "But what about all the supposed happiness that comes with it?"

I made a vague sound of disdain. "Nick, no-one can make you happy. You've got to do that yourself."

At this, Nick settled back into the pillows, with that damned insufferable smirk on his face. "I thought you'd say that."

"Oh?" I asked, curious despite myself.

"Yes. As I mentioned earlier – your ridiculous brand of pride and your obsession with control. It wouldn't allow you to accept the positive aspects of a soulmate."

"You're saying that I'm too proud and too much of a control-freak to have a soulmate?"

"Precisely."

Okay, what was with that supercilious tone?

"Okay, Dr. Crane – what about you? If you're so philosophical when it comes to soulmates, who's yours? Have you found her…or him?"

At his venomous look, I chuckled a little. "Hey, let's be open-minded. It could happen."

"I'm so sure. And no, I haven't found her. And I don't intend to look."

"Uh-huh…and why is that? Are you too proud and dictatorial to have one as well?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "Belladonna, all I meant is that you aren't prepared for the complete loss of control being in love brings you."

My pulse quickened at his words, at the even tone – I had the same feeling of premonition I'd had last night at the window.

"And you are prepared? How exactly do you know so much about being in love, anyway?"

"I didn't say I was prepared, I merely said you weren't."

"You haven't answered my question."

"No. I haven't." With those final words, he leant back and closed his eyes. I stared at him for a moment, feeling more than prepared to poke his penetrating eyeballs out of their sockets, or rip that self-assured tongue out of his head.

DAMN HIM!

My murderous, mutilating thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Nick sitting up suddenly. "Someone's coming."

Ugh. Not the whole ditzy girl routine again! I swear, I was going to murder Lukos when – I caught Nick giving me the raised-eyebrow look. I scowled. "I'll hide in the bathroom." I muttered viciously, spinning and edging into the bathroom, quietly closing and locking the door behind me. Not a moment too soon – I heard the door open and a guttural voice speak. I pressed my ear against the door.

"Nick, the bats are here. Ragnar will arrive within the hour. Are you going to come down and wait with us, or stay up here?"

The cool answer came immediately. "I think I'll stay up here, Morel. Who's on the crystal now?"

A snort. "Tigris and Schaden, arguing as usual."

"Ah. Well, yes. I'll stay up here until he arrives. Then you can just send Schaden up with a message."

"Indeed. Nick, you've been reclusive – more so than normal. Is something wrong?"

I almost giggled. Friendliness from a Night World shifter? Oh yeah, sure. Really plausible. This guy was fishing for something, and I prayed that Nick was quick enough to see that.

"Nothing's wrong."

Oh, brilliant answer. I rolled my eyes. As though reading my thoughts, Nick continued.

"And if anything were, I wouldn't choose you as my confidante."

I raised a hand to smother another giggle, and as I did so, accidentally knocked the half-empty tube of toothpaste from its perch on the side of the sink to the floor. It made a barely audible sound, thank God –

"Who is here?" the deep, rumbling voice sounded again. I heard heavy footsteps making their way towards the bathroom door and I backed up.

"No-one important. Vermin I picked up from Church." Nick's voice, smooth yet hasty, rang out.

"Ah…is she the one Lukos mentioned? The one who sounds like a squirrel?"

Excuse me?

"I beg your pardon?" Nick's voice echoed my thoughts. "A squirrel?"

"Yes. Chattering on and on."

"That would be the one," I could sense amusement in Nick's tone – the jerk knew I could hear him!

"She must be something special for her to be around…and alive…this long, eh? Perhaps when you're done, you'll pass her on."

Oh my God…that…I felt sick. It's one thing to hear about what the enemy was capable of doing; it was another to actually hear it firsthand.

"Perhaps not." the short, dangerous reply came.

"No matter." The loud, steady footsteps faded away, and I cautiously poked my head out. Nick looked up from glaring daggers at the door. "He's gone."

"Good." After that little exchange, I was spoiling for a fight – verbal or physical, it didn't matter. "What the hell did he mean by that 'pass her on' comment? Is that what you do to human girls you pick up? That's freaking sick. Just when I started thinking you were decent underneath it all, you manage to go and change my mind, you twisted piece of -"

Nick rolled his eyes. "Please stop the dramatics, Belladonna."

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!"

The moment the words had left my lips, Nick hissed and grabbed me by the shoulders, pushing me against the wall. "Quiet. They can hear you. Shut up, unless you want this entire mission to fail because of your terrible temper. I will call you Belladonna and if you have a problem with that, you will deal with it."

Deal with it? Damn straight! I shoved Nick away roughly and glared, pulling my fist back and letting go. He caught it in his left hand and used it to pull me closer. He hissed at me again, a vicious, feral sound. "Belladonna, relax. Don't make me use my telepathy – you're no good to me hypnotized. Calm down. Just calm down."

I took a few deep breaths and let my body go slack. I slammed my head against the wall a few times out of frustration, trying to knock the flurry of thoughts out of it. When I did that, Nick quickly pulled me away from the wall and, lifting me slightly, plopped me down on the bed. I shook my head. "I'm sorry. I don't know what – I'm sorry."

Nick sat down beside me. "This is ridiculous. Daybreak shouldn't have sent someone so young."

My head shot up again, and I fixed Nick with a beady stare. "I beg your pardon?"

He rolled his eyes. "Nothing against you personally – but you're only seventeen. You shouldn't be involved in some covert war. You shouldn't know the Night World exists. You should be at school, partying, studying."

Was this compassion from a vampire? I couldn't believe my ears.

"And how old are you," I heard my voice say in a tone that was meant to be sarcastic, but feeble, even to my ears. "To know so much?"

"I'm eighteen, Belladonna, but I'm from the Night World. It's kill or be killed where I grew up, and you age faster when that's what you live by."

I shuddered. "Sounds like a crappy way to grow up."

"It is." Nick fixed me with a mesmerizing stare, his eyes the color of moonbeams and starshine. "And just so we may clarify a point – Morel is a bastard. I've never had a pawn before."

I must've looked skeptical because Nick leaned closer, and said it more insistently. "Never."

And you know what? As stupid as it sounded, I believed him. Even though I had no reason to, I did. Because I knew he was telling the truth.

"Nick, I…" I don't know what I wanted to say. I wanted to apologize again. I wanted to just run out of this house, this place, and forget the war. And most of all, I just wanted to cry. I wanted to hug Nick tightly and cry my eyes and heart out.

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I wasn't a warrior. I wasn't a Night Person. I was just a normal teenager who'd gotten in over her head, who'd found herself too deep in something to work her way out and had decided to fight something much larger than she was. And for what? To save the world? I was nothing. What could I contribute? I had no talents, only failings. I wasn't invulnerable, I didn't have magical powers at my fingertips – I had nothing.

Nick stood suddenly, and a rush of cold air hit my side where he had been sitting. "Ragnar is here. Don't forget – the stairs to the attic are to the left, at the very end of the hallway. The study where the meeting will be held is to the right. Give us about ten minutes for everyone to collect in the study and then the coast should be clear." He strode to the door and paused, his hand on the doorknob. "Remember, Belladonna, talents make us special. Flaws make us people."

My head jerked up and I stared at Nick, my eyes wide. Had I spoken aloud? No, I knew I hadn't – but…how did he?

That smirk crossed his lips once more, but for once it didn't irk me as much as usual. "Be careful."

With that, he slipped out and shut the door behind him.

I stood. No time to think about the intricacies of the vampire mind now. It was show time. I groaned slightly.

Mr. Wizard, get me out of here!

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Asdaskdaskjd. This fic isn't doing well at all. If you've been lurking, please review and give me some feedback!

Notes

The King and I – a very cute musical from Rodgers and Hammerstein. Gotta love those wacky dudes. It was my school production wayyy back in…2003? I'm not too sure. I'll check with Spookie. But, yes. I couldn't resist shoving it in.

Dr. Crane – in case you are like my beta and shun Star World (or your equivalent), I am here to explain – Dr. Crane is Frasier Crane, a radio psychologist.

Mr. Wizard, get me out of here! – That's (sort of) a line from The Matrix, where Neo is calling Dozer (or Tank, not sure) to extract him from the matrix. It's a reference to the 1960's cartoon Tooter Turtle, where in every episode, Tooter (a turtle) would ask his friend Mr. Wizard (a lizard) to make him something he wasn't (e.g. an astronaut or scientist). But then Tooter would do something stupid and get himself into trouble, and call out to Mr. Wizard for help. Mr. Wizard would chant 'drizzle drazzle druzzle drome, time for this one to come home'. The moral of this cartoon was: be happy with who you are.

- WalkThruTheFire.