Chapter Three
Lightning's cell purred with a second message that morning from Lexis; she called back immediately, rolling to look out of the window at the weather, which was clear, white scudding clouds against the sky. Valhalla's roof was being repaired, but the second floor was still a mess, mirrors would take about a week to replace; Lexis had called to offer any number of cancellations to her appointments tonight, especially since she'd been caught in the nastiness on the roof; but Lightning declined and said she'd need the favor in a day or two; she was hiring a bodyguard for Serah and needed to plan scheduling a bit. Lexis chuckled and said if it was the desert boy who played swing rope with her prized Valkyrie last night, she just might give him honorary admission; she hung up pleased with Lightning, after she complimented her on her nerves of steel, and business sense – everyone who was at Valhalla tonight would be keyed up and live large; a close call always was a turn-on. Little did she know how true those words rang in Lightning's ears, making her groan at the memory – she knew he'd also climaxed, she'd glanced down at the loose nomad wrapped pants, hoping her own climax hadn't left any telltale dampness; she blinked at the wet spot that quickly disappeared under a drape of deep blue fabric with a twitch of his hand in the guise of a belt adjustment; the rope and light harness built into his belt and battle shirt was meant to take only one person's weight and had shifted with the stress of two, but it had held.
She called Hope next, and left a text as well; she decided Noel Kriess was hired after all; she thought it out over tea and tapped in her plan on her cell, then sent it to the relevant parties and asked for a meeting at Valhalla's Security training dojo that afternoon before she went to work. Everyone showed up within a reasonable time and they whistled at how fast the damages were being repaired: Lexis knew everyone, and that was the secret of her success. If she didn't know how to get it, she knew someone that could.
Noel had been pleasantly excited that Lightning had hired him; he looked forward to a few good fights and a good, simple, downright violent hunt; he fully expected it to be over within a week, and gambled on the silent stalker to be an ex-boyfriend or a client gone sour and wielding influence with the Fal'Cie; once exposed, the Fal'Cie ruling class would make short work of such a man and make his job easier, plus a gram or two of golden gils would smooth over any rankling feelings over doing a job for a bar girl with a mouth. Etro, that mouth…His desire started kicking his self control and evilly presented him with a mental picture of kissing those soft inviting lips while swinging in space; you shoulda kissed her you shoulda kissed her, you damn fool it taunted him; look at that lush bow of that upper lip, if that wasn't made for passion, I'm a liar; to hell with what the others say –it's the upper lip that betrays passion, never the lower. It was the right time and the right place and the right one….No! she wasn't! Noel barked back: She's a whore. It's just another case.
Of course, Noel Kriess hadn't been exposed to Murphy's laws of the universe, or had there been such a thing in the world of Gran Pulse, they might have been called Farron's Fallacies, or Etro's Edicts; but as he found out, life seldom turns where we wish it.
The plan seemed solid enough: On the days Lightning worked, Noel would escort Serah to Academia's university in the morning, and stay near campus with a point of contact after each class, then escort her home or anywhere she chose, until 6 PM. The library at the college could be also used as a research facility for him to find out who was behind the incidents and track his prey. At 6 pm he was allowed an hour's respite, then escorted Lightning to Valhalla to start her work at 8 PM and was either guarding her or was left free time until she signaled him via text for escort home; normally at midnight, but if the client was important enough, or the floor was hot, she'd stay and rake in all she could until their pockets were empty or until the sun rose.
Noel fought tooth and nail to perform a security assessment of Valhalla, so she and the others could be fairly safe and prevent any copycat attempts, which was common in Oldtown; after all, Valhalla did have rivals. Snow and a full complement of 36 security were fairly well trained, the nightclub had state of the art security systems, plus the 3rd floor was nothing but security – communications room, weaponry, a dojo, safe room, and a vault. However, Lexis would not trust Noel with Valhalla's sec-com network just yet; it had a database of clients that had paid Lexis and her Valkyries to ensure no one knew about, but at least Lexis was willing to pay half for the security assessment. He was free to stay at Valhalla and watch the shows or be Lightning's personal guard in the private client rooms if he wished, but Lightning tried to impress upon him that her sister was her number one priority in life; she was all the family she had, and they were so close to making it out of Academia to start a new life. She expected Noel to report any findings or incidents daily and simply asked for updates on the way to work, or afterwards.
She let Noel and Hope plan any emergency evac situations out, allowed an upgrade to all their cells, even buying Noel his own cell. It was a subtle flirtation to her, when Noel asked to take her photo with the cell; he spent almost five minutes taking her image at a dozen different angles, which she felt was a bit flattering. Of course, he didn't tell her he needed a database of images to memorize her, whether she was in the same room or in a sec cam eye. He took images of Serah too; when he got back to Hope's apartment, he idly compared the two sisters images until he drifted off on the couch.
How could two sisters be more different? Noel wondered as he watch Serah later, lightly laughing at a friend's silly photo on her cell, which she playfully sent over to her new bodyguard; she was slimmer than Lightning, the ice pink hair was almost the same tint, but Serah's face was that of an angel, heart shaped, a pretty pert nose, two eyes like a lavender sunrise, or sparkling tanzanite jewels set off with a pure alabaster complexion; her entire being seemed made out of light; Noel wryly thought of Hope's soft nickname for Serah's sister entirely misplaced, and thought the two names had been a mistake on the parent's part; but little did he know the Light that Hope knew.
Hope knew without a doubt, that of the two, Lightning was the stronger, the fairer. He had his proof, an epiphany at age 14 in the form of a knife wielding, L'Cie bashing creature who pulled him from the burning wreckage of a train and kept him alive through a seven month hell of a purge. He could never find any darkness in his Light, despite her claims she was a contrary demon and would tease him with her dark wings before or after performance, saying "See? Even chaos has me cast as the dark demon of night, muh-hah-hah!" He'd reply: "You're still an angel, no matter how sooty your wings get, girl."
The passing of a week smoothed things out between Noel & Lightning to the point of the assertive Valkyrie actually being charming to the young shadow hunter; she couldn't quite get that evening dive off the roof out of her mind, and his utter and complete attention when conversing with her made her feel pleasantly attracted; the subject was usually her, and on the surface she knew he was simply investigating into her; however, she couldn't help but be charmed by his manner, which was intense, up close & personal to the point of invading her personal space, often laying a hand on her arm, or drawing his chair closer, until they were almost nose to nose, no matter where they were. He was utterly fascinated with Pulsian nature, as he'd grown up isolated, in a time where the greater purges were happening; there was nothing but sand and sky for company for days, weeks on end, so life, any life, was an object of wonder & curiosity. He was handsome as hell to Lightning; there was something so captivating about the smooth golden brown tan skin, classic nomadic features of a high cheekboned face and delicate straight nose juxtaposed against ultramarine blue eyes like an oasis that made her feel his unwavering attention was more like a young blue eyed panther who'd pounce on her at any time he felt like it and devour her at leisure. His taut lean frame padded with muscle underneath seemed to somehow fit into hers better on her velocycle better than anyone else, too; she seldom let anyone ride her machine, much less take the driver's seat, and she felt totally comfortable with Noel taking the handlebars.
She was usually quite a sight on the 'cycle, as Lexis had it customized with the Valhalla colors of black and silver and even had a set of leathers made to match, 'Valhalla' spelled out in a line down her right leg and studded with glittering gems. It was free advertisement, or at least that's what Lexis told herself; she couldn't help but make sure her girls had a steady clientele, plus it added to the mystique of the Oldtown nightclub. She'd send the girls out to prowl the town at night and give an impromptu performance at a party in the upper city party tents or on even on the street, with a few sec men incognito for crowd control. She had Lightning to thank for helping with that, as she had been hired as a sec man; Lexis soon realized the self-possessed ex- Guardian Corps trainee was not only a damn clever idea for a sec position, but was the inspiration for an act that proved to be the most original, most sexy and most imitated idea in Oldtown. One day she caught Lightning idly flipping off the dance poles to show Stormy, a star performer how to do a full layout and the playfully warlike attitude made the savvy owner think twice. So she made the girls train with Lightning, created dazzling costumes in silver armor, paid conjurers to glamor them with wings, then took the town by storm with her show of nine Valkyries of Valhalla, all slicing the air with a wicked, lethally intoxicating performance that left everyone exhilarated. Lexis rewarded her girls lavishly when the profits rolled in, zooming Lightning to a breathless level of interest, the shadow hunter now included, who'd softly blew his breath out before swearing to Etro he'd do penance at her throne for the impure thoughts that crossed his mind the first time he saw her pull up and casually stride down the sidewalk among the mortals.
Noel really liked the leathers and thought them very suitable; the scent of her combining with the earthy scent made her seem instantly familiar, yet indefinably alluring, so more than once he passed off a deliberate brush or touch as accidental. Lightning found excuses to touch him while riding also, a hand on an arm, or holding onto his waist around a sharp turn, so the pair were a fair way along to getting a fire between them sparked, at least while they rode. However, Noel would retreat into polite professionalism once at their destination, sweeping the area, checking cams, entry/exit records, and the like, leaving Lightning thinking he was fastidious. But then, she reasoned, with a face and body like that, he could command the best and get it, just on the strength of physical attraction. But that was not Lightning's basis for attraction; of course, physical had its role, but there was some invisible tug, some mental or psychic finger that kept poking at her mind and soul whenever he was near. She always knew where he was in the room, even when her back was turned; something rang true between them when interacting, no matter how small the action.
When she was performing, she usually focused like a laser on her client, but her mind began playing tricks on her, slipping Noel's face into the vapid lust-filled features of whoever she was dancing for, or imagining a glimpse of a dark shadow against the velvet curtains was Noel, hand on his sword, squatting like a primitive, hiding himself, always standing guard over her, hovering, protective… it was a subtle eroticism to daydream those eyes melting into something far warmer than a cool hunter's gaze, self-control slipping into irresistible caresses, ending with an impassioned plea for her in between his wild kisses. She let her mind drift once with a brown haired blued eyed client, imagining it was her shadow hunter, and provoked the interest of the man so intensely he came back 3 nights in a row afterwards, the last time with ice pink roses to match her hair and an offer to be his exclusive mistress, which she charmingly answered with a keen blade of truth: "Oh, I'm good enough to love in public, but not good enough to love when we're alone? Exhibitionist I am not when it comes to love, sir." She stroked his face with a bloom and continued in a more kindly tone: "Stop looking for love in all the right places, Elgar; You'll not find a soulmate in the party tents of the Fal'Cie or private playrooms of Valhalla; maybe finding love is more like being in the wrong place at the right time." Elgar's sudden smile brightened her night as he realized his wit had been tickled with her setdown; as he left the private room with an extravagant bow to the point of kneeling and the exclamation:"Light, thou art a goddess in thine own right!" Lightning tilted her head just like she did at Hope, with a hint of warmth in her parting smile as she bowed in return with the extravagant bouquet.
Noel was puzzled at the scene, which appeared far too courtly for his taste and caught up with the man in the bar below; he was disturbed that she let a client come repetitively without notifying him, and even more disturbed that Elgar's advice was so unlike the portrait of the Lightning that he had painted with the answers to his incessant questions. He realized with a flash of intuition that maybe he didn't know her at all; all he knew were a select few hard facts, and the rest was hearsay. He slowly went through his mental file of interviews and slowly began to find evidence she showed everyone the face they wanted to see, gave everyone the answers they wanted to hear and no one got in, not even her sister. It was as if she had on a hundred masks, but all of them clear crystal; you lifted one up and then saw another… you could spend an eternity of time getting to know someone like her, and still wonder what lay underneath… A woman that didn't give herself away was rare…unique…formidable. Perhaps this was the key to her mystique as the most sought after Valkyrie in Valhalla? He sighed, remembered the fortress in her first direct glance, then propped his chin in his hand while allowing himself to drift into a haze of open theory while the girls twirled on their poles.
How is it that a basting bar girl turns down an offer like that, then gives him love advice? And all without a single baste or even a kiss? Only Fal'Cie acted like that; her unconscious regal demeanor was at odds with the bar rat image. Did she have a secret relationship going on with a Fal'Cie? Was she a L'Cie, a pet subtly imitating her master? Somehow, he doubted she'd ever been mastered; his desire slyly whispered: You'd love to master her…imagine tearing off the final mask and seeing what's beneath it all? …Or would you love it more if she mastered you? Noel deliberately took a breath, reciting Etro's Script slowly to drown out his desire's inner voice, then turned back to the 2nd floor. He was going to insist on knowing her appointment list in advance, or it was going to be guarding her in the private rooms from now on, be damned to any preferred clients. Oh? Anything or anyone more than once too much to tolerate around your personal obsession, lover? smirked desire. A well placed kick to the 2nd floor door was Noel's answer.
He had his first real fight with his client that night: It wasn't that she minded him in the room, there were plenty of ways to hide him without a client knowing. It was the fact he wanted to stick his handsome nose into her private client list and talk about every client; each Valkyrie's client list was jealously guarded and Lightning had entertained some people that had paid to be nameless. Fal'Cie, politicians, Academians, Underworld Kingpins and even House Imperate had come and paid for her time. It was an intrusion, an intimacy without intimacy, almost a rape to her; but underneath that she was damn worried if anyone else knew that she'd even hinted at the names on her client list, she'd be a risk for elimination or worse. On a Deeper level, she felt the queries were an indicator that he mistrusted her, thought her incompetent, and she was just plain sick of having another bit of herself carved off & peeled away for his dissection. She growled and glowered at him almost nose to nose as he grew more heated in his insistence in between her clients in the private lounge; she snapped a sharp retort after the third one and shoved him back into the black velvet curtains and smoky mirrors as a sleek creature in purple- black riding leathers entered with his helmet on and decided to show him just why she kept the list confidential. Noel drew his sword immediately, shocked she'd let someone so heavily disguised come to her; why, this was an open door for an assault or worse! She was far too trusting and careless!
The rider sat down slowly and kept his gear on until the door closed and the lock snicked in place. Noel felt the hair raise on the back of his neck, tensely waiting for him to make the first move on her. In contrast she calmly waited until he nodded. Then she asked only one question: "Slow or fast?" A leisurely gliding hand movement indicated slow; Lightning caught the pace and drifted to a tablet inset in the wall, carefully choosing a selection of music to match the client's mood.
The dance was sensually slow, almost restful when compared to some of the gyrations she performed earlier for less suave clients; yet it was clearly seductive in nature. The music softly segued into beats antique and her movements also morphed into a subtle imitation of a traditional tribal dance; it pleased the client greatly, this novelty of primitive desire played out in a modern techno club; one felt sensed rather than heard the approval of the mature male sitting on the couch, now elegantly slouching back into the black leather. Noel now fought to slow his breathing, counting to keep each breath even in- even out as he watched Lightning move like a tribal woman hunting a mate. He ran his tongue over the edge of his teeth, feeling the sharpness of his canines, all appetite and snarlingly, evilly jealous of the man on the couch now openly enjoying Lightning's hips undulating as she bent back to the floor in front of him and he nearly bared his teeth watching a slim hand reach out and placing itself a fraction of an inch from the immaculately shod foot at the end of the beat in the subtlest of offerings. Clever girl the hunter thought, you don't even let yourself lay a finger on one client all night and they think you're the greatest baste they'll ever have. I get your lesson now – she knows her clients, but will only share what she knows on her terms. Looks like I'll have to change tactics to get her to open up. Maybe it's time to be a bastard; she's probably not had anybody stand up to her shite before. Or maybe I should be charming, like her cousin; she always gives in to Hope.
The helmet slowly came off and exposed a shock of platinum hair like Hope's but was not Hope of House Estheim; Noel stopped breathing when an ungloved hand ran through the strands and flashed a signet ring set with suns eyes, the cool blue-white refractions competing with the glitter of the icy silver locks adorning the head of one son of the House Imperate.
Oh shite, shite SHITE…House Imperate! Noel fought his rising panic by reciting the sutra of calmness; Clear thy mind, become as the water, water has no form, be formless, be still…this is no time to be a wafter and faint, nomad! Now think, THINK about it! Why is a prince of House Imperate interested in a pole dancer in an Oldtown drinking hell? List your theories, man! One – Plaything, she's discreet, disposable. Two – he's a ghoul, he might be trolling for a soul to buy; Three – she has something he wants, an artefact, a good gene matrix for breeding? If that hair color was real, she could be a bastard or a by blow of the ruling class…Four – he has something she wants, she wants out of Oldtown, anyone would… Five – he's just the messenger, is there a romance or some transaction for someone, like her sister? She IS a blossoming beauty Six – what if she's a L'Cie candidate? Oh, Etro…don't go there…calm, stay calm…Clear thy mind, become as the water, water has no form, be formless, be still. Clear thy mind, become as the water…
When the icy haired noble finally left, his helmet firmly in place and gloves on, she finally strode forward and drew aside the heavy drape to find Noel standing there with a far way look in his eyes; of course he missed the point that the tribal dance was for him, not her client. She mentally sighed as he silently escorted her back to the velocycle after changing into street leathers and climbed on reluctantly, wondering if he was really the wily shadow hunter Hope had described with awe in his mellow tenor voice; he seemed to be a blunt instrument, abrupt, arrogant and mentally dense when she expected agility and nimbleness. She almost asked him if her tribal moves were authentic; she knew they were, but for some unknown reason wanted him to notice. I can bring a prince to full attention, but this nomad acts as if I'm the sand beneath his feet. She shifted back against the seat rest and let the cool night air swirl between them, thinking she was an unwelcome intrusion.
Noel felt her withdraw and made a soft sound of regret, blown away in the roar of the 'cycle; he had enjoyed the side benefit of Lightning's body pressed against his when performing his escorting duties. He could never get the wild jump off the building and the soaring ecstasy out of his nights and his desire became a constant companion that he kicked at, swore at, or just plain ignored. Feeding it small bites like this seemed to make it go away for a while and he sure as hell didn't want to spend another sleepless night reciting Etro's scripts.
He caught her arm as she dismounted and rather gently asked: "Would it be imposing on you if we discussed this evening over a drink? Your last client changed the focus of the investigation…and…um…I'd like to know where you learned authentic tribal." There. Show some personal interest. Get her talking about something she likes. Then listen for the hidden truths.
Surprised, she waved him in, then installed him in a chair on the back deck outside while the surf lapped against the pilings; she came back in comfortable dark clothing, a loose kurta-like shirt over city jeans carrying two bottles of water, two glasses, and a larger bottle of rakesh, an intoxicant from the desert, distilled from a cactus and flavored with a strongly pungent seed that grew commonly on the dunes; it had a warm sweetish cinnamon-like aftertaste, which drowned the afterburn. An outdoor hot bath was right outside the open glass doors of the bedroom, where dark gauze curtains blew out in the breeze. For a temporary pre-fab tin can of a dwelling, it was fairly nice, another incongruity Noel added to his mental file on his client – ruthless whores didn't keep a nice house, much less invite guests in. Anyone under a Fal'Cie's wing usually got an apartment in the upper circles of the city, living a lavish lifestyle, even if it was for just a few weeks or months, until their lover grew bored with the disposable lower class object of interest.
The alcohol from his neck of the woods was a subtle host's touch he appreciated, and he relaxed as he quietly discussed his change of course when he realized that the upper strata came to her; he explained he also had a client list from the upper strata, so he understood the value she & Lexis placed on discretion; he gently probed about how she had met the Fal'Cie, what she thought had attracted him, and if he had made her an offer or even hinted at anything to do with his class, a task, a favor; her direct immediate answers made him secretly hopeful that she'd not been tainted by Fal'Cie intrigue, or was being considered as a candidate L'Cie. He earnestly took her hands and drawing close, he almost begged her to confide in him if she ever were approached for any such thing; dropping his voice to a whisper he hoarsely rasped: "Trust me like you trusted me when we were on the roof, Lightning; don't get close to any Fal'Cie; every truth, every task, every favor they ask has two sides. Stay in the light, stay away from the dark side of that street, girl." Lightning wondered if he'd gotten wasted off the rakesh, being so young; but the expression in those ultramarine orbs gazing through a windblown mess of brown hair were nothing but steady; she slowly nodded, then trying to be sensitive, she gently asked: "Noel, do you speak from…experience?" He held still, caught in her hunter's gaze, a flare of aqua caught by the candle flame before answering; he could not help the tremble in his hands as he remembered something dark, oily and evil uncoiling; she tightened her grip to still them after he ever so slowly nodded in return.
"We all come from the light, Noel. The soul can remember, or forget. Speaking of light, its only 5 hours until dawn – why not sleep on the couch and practice with me tomorrow morning at the dojo? "
She dropped a mask and let her face show a warmly charming woman for a moment; the flash in her eyes made her seem like she was a being composed of light, her inner radiance rising like the dawn after a dark night; then she drew his hands up and lightly let her lips brush the scarred knuckles before gently placing them back on his thighs. Noel's head was spinning, and not only from rakesh when it hit him she was opening up to him at last; now he could get somewhere in solving this case! "Let me call Hope and let him know I won't be back in tonight. I've been wanting to try the dojo and assess your skill set. Maybe you can let me stretch you out tribal style? It will help with the extensions, which were graceful, by the way. Where did you learn?" Baste it, she was like flowing water, why didn't you say that?
"I suppose you might know the dancer Patanga? She was at the cultural exposition 4 years ago and I thought it would help me get stronger abdominals, and I just liked it. There are a few half-bloods that have come and gone at Valhalla, too. They tend to drift to the Oasis, because Mustapha pays better for traditional. As for a traditional tribal stretch, the only thing I know is the Puja – do me a favor there? Just don't leave me unable to work tomorrow night, ok?"
"Puja is a good start." He caught himself smiling at her, then boldly said: "Puja can feel smooth as silk with the right hands to guide you; I promise anyone else will feel like sandpaper after me, just you see, Lightning."
Smooth as silk? Hmmm…we'll see. I wonder if that was a flirt? That skin certainly looks like it'd feel like silk. Lightning rose & walked back to the open doors of her bedroom, her hips conscious of the fact Noel had noticed them even if the owner didn't. "I'm going to get some sleep. As for your bed, just go thorough those doors, there's sheets & pillows in the ottoman, the toilet is on the left side of the kitchen door and there's tea above the stove, if you want it. Sleep well, Noel Kreiss. I'll murder you in the morning!"
Somehow, the darkness around his heart was dispelled and he turned in lighthearted at the thought he'd show her what getting murdered was about or at least keep those hips from shimmying for anyone's eyes but his. Oh yes, he'd noticed her.