Woohoo! Chapter Nine! *Writing like a bitch on crack*
Three chapters. Three days. That's how important this plot-point is. :D
It's kind of the climax, I like to think, meaning that this story is starting its descent into the finale!
But don't worry; we still have some ways to go before we get there. ;)
Note that this chapter is shorter than the others, mainly because it's just wrapping up the attack.
But it's still important.
Because it is.
So sayeth the Zara.
I feel like I have to add something here, just to appease random people who might be wondering to themselves where the Chalas (I still prefer "Chalas" to "Chouglas." That latter sounds like something I would name a fat bulldog) fluff is.
It's there.
I don't like to do mushy Chalas scenes. It just seems so…off for these two to express excessive emotion. And that's coming from the girl who made Chase half-demon! To me, they bond better through banter, which is why you see them messing with each other and joking around. It's just who they are. So, to those of you who crave Chalas fluff, it's in there. You just have to squint at it because it's not in its obvious fluffy form.
Thanks to all the reviewers and readers who are still here. I know; this story has quite a bit of filling, like a Twinkie. However, I assure you that each one is important. :3
Vampire Girl: O_o Hold that thought while I get Azazel's Bane back.
AllAmericanSlurp: It was so subtle, wasn't it?
Moonlit: He's a cheeky little bugger. :P It's what makes him so fun.
By the way, if anyone has seen Oly, could you kick her back this way? She's gone missing. Anywho, who wants to do it?
"Zara doesn't own Lab Rats or anything you recognize. If you don't recognize it, it's probably hers."
Adam, stepping up to the plate again. xD
"The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance."
Alan Watts
"Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity."
Gilda Radner
Chapter Nine – Change Incarnate
Bree
There was something about uncertainty that tended to affect people in strange ways.
Take Bree, for example: She was staring at the burning ruin of the house her younger brother was supposed to have been in with no idea whether or not he was all right while firemen ran around, struggling to contain the blaze and trying - unsuccessfully, at the mention of family members living there - to shoo them away. She should be panicking or crying or something. However, the only thought she was capable of at that moment was how dark the fire looked compared to regular fires, in spite of how much light and heat it was generating. It was like shadows burned between the actual flames, flickering rapidly like they rejoiced in the destruction and were cheering. It was haunting. Hell, in a strange way, the sinister combination played with one another - light and dark, working towards one purpose - in a morbid dance that was eerily beautiful in its intensity and strength.
She found herself thinking back to when Chase had discovered meditation a few years earlier. He had never closed his eyes or any of the traditional methods one would associate with said practice, though. He either practiced more fluid martial arts slowly or lit a candle and stared at the flame as if in a trance. She had asked about it once; had asked what he thought about when he seemed to get lost in his own world.
And he hadn't failed to give her an answer she had trouble understanding.
Strength and change. Upon further inquiries, he elaborated. There is strength in slow, deliberate motions, while fire is change incarnate.
She hadn't quite understood what he was talking about then. But now, watching a once-immovable house being reduced to ash and debris, she could see it. And, at the thought of how, merely 24 hours before, she had never even known demons existed, or that her brother wasn't human anymore and lived with one of the banes of their existence - an idea she was still trying to come to terms with, despite her assertion that Chase wasn't a traitor or evil - she found that she finally understood it, too.
Fire was indeed change incarnate, reducing physical objects to nothing and sometimes extinguishing life itself, only to have a new landscape or way of life and thinking replace it all in the aftermath. The irony wasn't lost on her.
"Well, I want to shake the hand of whoever did this. It's some fine work."
Bree, snapped from her reverie, almost kicked Vilar right in her nose.
"Do you think Chase was in there?" Adam asked, his voice smaller than she'd ever heard it as the fire's glow played with the shadows of his face and caused his eyes to shine much more intensely than usual.
Mr. Davenport shook his head, his face paler than Bree had ever seen. "He's a smart kid. He escaped. He had to."
Empty words, falling on deaf ears. Bree could hear his doubt. He was trying to reassure himself as much as the two teens.
"If it helps," Yahn began, still sitting on Adam's shoulder as a parrot, "Master is still alive. I'm still having to follow his orders."
Carth, Mesth and Vilar muttered amongst themselves, but nodded confirmation.
"So Douglas definitely escaped," Adam mused. "Maybe Chase did, too?"
"He better have," Bree heard herself mumble. She'd have to march in the rubble and kick his body a few times if he hadn't survived before she tracked Douglas down and kicked him between the legs for not saving Chase.
"If he didn't survive, can I eat his remains?" Carth asked casually.
Bree actually did kick him.
As the indignant demon muttered and shuffled away - his head low as he watched Bree for signs of another attack - Mr. Davenport sighed. "There's a way to find out," he said, "but it involves waiting until the fire is put out and the firemen search for bodies."
Adam and I winced. "Think they're all right?" Adam whispered, glancing at Yahn.
"I'm sure that one of them is," Yahn answered, dipping down his head a bit. "I don't know about the half-breed. I'm not going to make a guess on it."
Bree raised an eyebrow at this, but didn't say anything about it, opting instead to think aloud. "I wonder: What started the fire?"
"Big demon," Mesth barked like he was already bored with the topic. "That fire sure as hell isn't natural."
Bree frowned. "Did Douglas summon the wrong guy?"
"He'd be long dead if he did," Vilar snorted. "He probably pissed some other summoner off."
"So this was an attack," Mr. Davenport stated slowly. "Great; he's making enemies everywhere and putting Chase in danger while doing so."
"Unless Chase died," Adam cut in. "He wouldn't really be in danger anymore then."
"Don't say that," Bree hissed. Chase was fine. He had to be.
"You know what? It was probably Lovett after that spy got back to him," Mesth stated. He shot a look towards Yahn. "Way to go, Yahn."
"Okay," Mr. Davenport said, holding up a hand. "Someone explain this 'Lovett' guy to me as best you can."
"Long story," Yahn warned.
Mr. Davenport took a long look at the fire that was fighting just as hard to stay alive as the firefighters were to kill it. "We're going to be here a while, anyways."
The demons took turns trying to explain the guy; even Carth, who claimed to have never met Lovett, added commentary. However, instead of listening, Bree was back to watching the fire that changed the house, feeling as if it had blazed through time to change her life as well.
Fire was change incarnate. Whether it was bringing a good or bad change, though, was still up for debate.
"...Like Noah, how they laughed amid the gadflies and the mud! And I wondered what they shared that made such desperate men beloved..."
Heather Dale, "The Road to Santiago"
"Swallow your pride occasionally, it's non-fattening!"
Author Unknown
Chase
Sunrise found Douglas and I sheltering in an abandoned house on the outskirts of town. It wasn't exactly ideal, but it was better than nothing. Besides, Douglas had taught me how to pick locks to get in. Apparently, you bend a paperclip into a hook and rattle it around in an attempt to manipulate the pins for five minutes before cursing loudly and kicking the door in. It was like watching art. It didn't do much to alleviate the glaringly obvious pain he was feeling from his ribs, but he wasn't complaining. I had gotten the privilege of watching him reset the bones in his nose in the bathroom of a convenience store - a most interesting thing to see; it looked like it hurt, judging by how hard he had been grinding his teeth and the occasional (constant) whimpering.
Unable to get ourselves to sleep, we currently sat shoulder-to-shoulder, our backs against the wall as we watched the sun gradually light up the eastern sky. It, like time, marched on, oblivious to what had happened the night before. We stared at it for a while in silence before I sighed. "So now what?"
Douglas sighed himself, running a hand down his face before he answered. "I don't know. This month is a religious holiday for me, so I can't think. Ask me next month. I might have something then."
"What religion?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He glanced sideways at me. "The religion of don't fucking question my beliefs or I'll sue you, damn it."
"Now who's the smart ass?" I remarked.
Douglas chuckled. "You got it from somewhere. Like your charm and good looks." He ran a hand through his spiky hair to accent his point.
"Are you sure about the looks?" I teased. "Because I think I'm more handsome than you."
He grinned mischievously, holding both hands up innocently. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid."
We both laughed slightly. Then a bit more. Then more, constantly amplifying until we were gasping for air, tears of mirth rolling down our faces as our situation was currently forgotten in exchange for at least a few moments of glee.
When we finally regained control - Douglas holding his side with a pained expression; laughing was apparently painful - I pulled one knee up to my chest and rested my arm on it as I let my mind wander over the past twenty-four hours. We had lost all the momentum we had generated on this manhunt for Krane in one fell swoop brought about by Lovett. How he knew who had taken Azazel's Bane so fast was stunning; I honestly didn't know how he did it. I supposed that it didn't matter anymore, though. All I knew was that we were homeless and probably being hunted, meaning we had lost all advantages. "We're in over our heads. We need help," I finally noted, pursing my lips.
Douglas nodded. "I know."
I glanced sideways at him, not really wanting to say we both knew was coming next. "I know it's a long shot, but..." I trailed off, searching for the right words.
"You want to go to Donnie," he finished for me, his voice quiet.
"I don't know what else we could do right now," I immediately stated.
"I do." Douglas stated dryly. "Either we sit here and just watch this happen if we aren't found and killed first, we surrender, we run and hide forever, or we ask Don for help." He paused pensively. "I don't like the first two, and I've been running for years. It takes a toll, eventually." He sighed. "Let's go throw ourselves at my brother's feet and beg for mercy. Hopefully, he'll help us."
"I'm pretty sure that he'll help me," I pointed out. "He might make you and your imps sleep outside though."
Douglas smiled. "Chained to a tree or locked in a cage."
"With nothing to eat but the bread and water thrown your way once every week or so."
His face became serious. "If I don't come out of that alive, tell my story."
We stared at each other for a second before we burst into uncontrolled laughter once again.
Woo! We're going places!
About Bree's entire perception of the house fire: She's interpreting it in her own way.
Maybe you think it could represent something else? Maybe the entire attack – Jasper, the house going down, them escaping, so on – meant something to ya?
It's symbolism; there are no wrong answers, really.
Unless you say, "The fire represents puppies." I will reach through this computer and smack you if you go that far off the rocker.
Feel free to give a random opinion of it in the reviews. :3
Or don't and just admire it in your mind. Either way. :D
And enjoy.
*Bows and exits*