Fandom: Night World, LJ Smith
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Dedication:
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: Readers, I am so sorry. You guys have probably fled and moved on with your lives, have probably outgrown Night World or fanfiction or maybe even reading fullstop. And I have no excuse – well, I do. I have many. But I'm sure you don't want to hear those. In the past month, this has been in the back of my head – but there've been bills to pay and assignments to write and a lot of growing up to do. I know none of this is any excuse, but believe me when I say every single time I had an email about Author Alerts, Favorites or Review Alerts; I felt completely guilty. I HATE it when ff writers abandon you in the midst of something, and I refuse to do that.
So I apologize, wholeheartedly, and here's a bit of something to start it all up again.
Where There's Moonlight, I See Your Eyes
Chapter Eleven
Want to know what I think? Well, even if you don't, too bad. Because I don't really give a shit.
I think that being in love is one of the crappiest things that someone can ever experience. Because you're all up on that high of having found someone who thinks you're wonderful and perfect and you feel the same damn way about him. And then, he ends up leaving you because you're both too stubborn to back down or compromise.
If love is the greatest thing in the world, then being without it after experiencing it is the most terrible feeling you can ever weather. The guy who was meant to be with me for all eternity, who was my soulmate, part of my very essence, left me. What does that say? That we weren't meant to be anyway? That I loved him more than he loved me?
Ugh. These kinds of thoughts had pursued me for nights on end, ever since he had left. Left me. Bastard. It's been a fortnight, and I've not had a phone call, an email, a text message, a freaking letter. Something. Anything. Do you know how crazy-making it is? Throw a girl a bone, dammit. I mean, I know he's okay, I'd know if something happened to him. But doesn't he care? I mean, a freaking text message would have meant the world to me.
But whatcha gonna do, right?
Right?
Things haven't changed much since then. By 'then' I mean a coupla months ago. You know, it's vaguely ridiculous. Do you know the Romeo and Juliet debacle happened in three days? Three. And hell – maybe there's a reason people read the damn play and say it's the most romantic slush every written.
Life's been going on. The standard mission every now and then – intelligence, mostly. Time's are a-changing and they're doing it swiftly. The final battle is upon us.
I've been fairly out of it lately – my own fault. I took off for a month, visited some places I've been wanting to. Dumb teenage stuff. The Little Mermaid statue, some libraries.
Didn't make it go away though. The pain?
Because all I wanted – all I want? Is for someone to be next to me, admiring the freaking view with me. I could be in Paris, Texas in some seedy dive of a greasy spoon, watching the sun go down like the Devil's after it – it'd be the prettiest sunset in the history of Creation if he'd been there.
Nick.
What kinda stupid name is Nick anyway?
Did he have a middle name? I never stopped to find out, even when I was in his head.
Geez, I slept with him and for all I know his middle name could've been Engelbert. Marmaduke. Dana.
This soulmate thing messes you up, it does. The starlight and wonder and tossing caution to the wind – foolishness, right down to the end. I thought I was invincible, but turns out I was far from it.
A month of traveling, of using money I didn't really have; and it got me nowhere. Dr. Phil would have a field day. And when I got back, my credibility was shot to shreds. Tatters. Took me the last month to pull myself back together – or at least project a semblance of efficiency – before Thierry and the rest of the Circle would let me go back on missions.
I'm good at what I do. I am. Why else would I be a member of the inner circle? I'm one of the best they have. I have an eidetic memory. I have a good grasp of languages. I learn 'em easy. I speak a bunch. Can't spell for beans though. Ridiculous.
I'm average height, weight, build. I blend into a crowd like white on paper. I'm agile, strong for my size (not saying much though) and I think fast. It took work for me to get into the Inner Circle, to fight the good fight, and I intend to stay. I do.
But fact is, I was a wreck the past coupla months. And hell, even I wouldn't want me on a mission. I came back and sorted myself out as best I could.
And I'm better now. I totally am. Sure, I miss him like a limb. Or maybe an organ. But there's a bigger picture. More people in the world than just him and I.
And today's a day to keep my mind off that bloodsucking soulmate no-show of mine and on what's at hand.
First mission in a while. Testing the waters. Or, as I say, playing guard dog. The other side was transferring some documents – old stuff, illuminated manuscripts. More prophecies, knowing our luck. And a bunch of us were going to intercept the exchange.
"I've missed this," I said to Rashel. My nerves were singing. It'd been too long. The boring stake-outs, the high you get from moving – some sick part of me missed it.
"You're weird," she hissed back, in her patented crouch: one leg curled under her, the other stretched out ahead. Apparently it allows for unrestricted movement in all directions.
I smiled despite myself. Dawn was a few hours away, it was chilly and damp; but my thick sweater kept out the bite of the wind. I had tough hiking boots on – definitely not mine, Hannah and I are both a six – and in the left there was a bamboo knife. In the right, a stake. And hell, I know they make it sound cool in books and TV, but shoes are not made to tuck stuff into. We were staked out in the back of a packing truck, with me in the driver's seat keeping an eye out. The exchange which was supposedly going to take place in the parking lot of a dingy old five-and-dime where we were parked.
Rashel, Quinn, me and somewhat oddly, Iliana. She'd pulled to manage to come along – Phil hadn't been too happy, either. Lucky I loved the girl, if not I'd be bitching about how she made the job so much harder. Expendable she is not.
Suddenly, movement. A light blue Chevy pulled into the parking lot, just a few spaces over. The passenger-side door opened, and a wiry thin man stepped out, casting searching looks left and right – I quickly ducked down. When he was satisfied that they were alone, he said something to his partner, who stepped out of the car too.
Minutes later, they were joined by a black Lexus – tasteful – and a tall vampire joined the duo on the tarmac. The boot of the Chevy was popped – from my vantage point; I could see a crate tucked inside.
"Guys," I called, my throat dry. I swallowed. "Guys, I think it's time for us to move. Three of them. One's a shifter, another's leech. No idea about the third, can't see much from where I am."
I heard muffled curses. Still, three of them and three of us – decent odds. I didn't count Iliana. She would be staying in the truck, hanging back unless absolutely necessary.
And we were employing my favorite strategy: charging in blindly.
I threw the door open and followed Rashel and Quinn, with Iliana scrambling into the seat I'd recently vacated. She gunned the engine in readiness, which alerted the Night People of our approach. Damn.
Still. I dove at the sinewy vampire who got out of the Lexus, throwing us both to the ground. We rolled, I came up top and kneed him firmly in the groin. He hissed, tossed me away as though I weighed nothing, and kicked me in the side. I tried to find purchase to scramble up, but just as I did another agonizing kick landed on my ribs. Knives blossomed in my gut. So did anger. I rolled once more, but towards him – used his surprise against him and hooked a leg around his ankle. He stumbled, but quickly righted himself – damn vampire reflexes – but in that instant I'd got to my feet. He snarled – dark hair and skin contrasting sharply with white fangs – and launched himself at me. By some miracle I managed to sidestep smartly, whip the stake out of my boot and stab him, quite literally, in the bank. Miles away from the heart, but the poison in the wood did the trick. The leech groaned and seized me by the throat – I retaliated by jabbing my thumbs into his eye. No-one, regardless of how big or bad, can stand digits in the eye socket.
Lexus Vampire immediately released his hold on me, and I took the opportunity to use the bloody stake again, promptly stabbing him in a kidney. Shooting from the hip, as it were. He roared, sank to his knees – I swiftly kicked him in the face, shuddering at the sensation – vampire bone was tough – then straddled him. I cast a quick look at Rashel and Quinn – Rashel had knocked out the shifter she'd been dueling, and was standing by watching Quinn dance circles around his opponent like he was having the time of his life. There were twin feral grins on their faces. Cue me like what the hell? Bunch of weirdoes. But back to Lexus Vampire.
"Who sent you?" I hissed, the stake at his throat. "Specifically. Name names."
Despite the bloody features and pain he was obviously in, Lexus Vampire sneered.
"You Daybreakers are so damn stupid. Screw you and the horse you rode in on, vermin."
Only he didn't say 'screw', if you get my meaning.
"Don't avoid the question," I shot back, matching his tone. "Cos only thing standing between you and a pile of dust is how useful you prove to be, you bloodsucking freak."
Lexus Vampire began laughing, then paused. He gave me searching look, as though… Almost as if… He knew me.
"Donna?"
The blood drained from my face. "What?"
The laughing continued. "You're Donna. Oh my God. You're the stupid piece of trash Nick brought back before he turned traitor. What happened, did he use you and throw you away? He's good at that. He's a charming guy." The laughter became louder, more insistent. Bells were ringing in my head; my whole body was flooded with rage – and sadness. Awful, painful, keening sadness.
I didn't bother with smart replies. I hit him in the face with the butt of the stake.
I hit him again. Blood pooled at a corner of his mouth. Not his. Some poor human being's.
I hit again.
And again.
And again.
The world dissolved to a gray swirl. There was me, the vampire's face, and the stake. Again. I kept hitting. I heard, in the periphery, urgent voices. Shocked noises.
Didn't matter.
I kept hitting.