To my anger and dismay, ff.net does not allow squiggly characters anymore (those on the upper left of your keyboard), astrix, or the happy face "eye" characters that anime lovers use. This new stupid way of uploading chapters is frustrating, worthless and degrading. I sure hope ff.net finds it worthwhile, because I do not. And I don't even want to update my old chapters because they HAD that character ability and now they don't! So I will have to use brackets {} for the "musical" parts.

Ah, well. On to reviews!

Catwho: Of course they're messing up the plan, lol! Xellos is drunk and Filia is on her period, it's hard to expect anything more.

Bleu: No, no, many parts were meant to be funny. So you're not stupid.

Inverse-chan: Thanks for the review, I'm glad you liked drunk Xellos!

YueMichiruNaragisawaMiko: I'd suggest getting your own account. And yes, he did certainly get drunk! LOL. (shakes head) Ah well.

Beast Master Zelas: yea! no more angry drunken beastmaster! I'm glad you found Xellos to be in-character, lol. I thought long and hard about how Xellos would react when drunk, and I came to the conclusion that he would have to lose some inhibitions, but he wouldn't lose the ability of manual and physical dexterity or mental abilities, since he's not actually human. So his morality (what there is of it) seemed to be the most likely to be affected. (hugs) Oh, I forgive you, at least you knew they were "ooc"! And the Japanese is NOT better!! LOL

Wolfe: Your roommate might not be that far off base, my fanfic has been known to take away people's sanity. (EVIL LAUGHTER) Just kidding. But I can't make a book. I hate to break it to you, but there is such a thing as copyright laws in the country I live in, and I would be in direct violation if I created books and sold them based off of Slayers. Though I love long reviews, and I was really grateful to get yours! Thanks and keep reading! :-)

Eishirou: Yea, a long review! I'm glad those from Ranma seem IC, I thought a long time about how an alternate universe (such as this one) would have an effect on them. Iyzeka is referred to as "tiny" because I imagine (and try to write her) to be around 5 feet tall and very pixie-like. As to the old guy, THANK YOU for noticing! You're the only one who mentioned him! As to the notes, I'm not sure about it as much as CEP might know. I personally think that making the Slayers in D&D would be next to impossible since there are so many things to take into account. Write to CEP if you wanna chat, he's great and loves discussing D&D. (crazyelfpaladinyahoo.com) Glad you (mostly) agree with me on the voices, YEA!!! David Moo is totally better at being the dark evil demon that we all love. I don't think his voice cracked, but I certainly was waiting for it to. LOL

Xeria: I tried to review your fic more, though to be quite honest (and you've probably seen this already), I found some things to critique (sorry! sorry!) and that was why I had reviewed less often. I didn't want to be disappointing! Yes, Filia will most definitely be angry and frightened (at least a little) but nothing she could do would compare with his own self-loathing. Don't worry, they'll get together, but they have to work on their own personal problems a bit more first. I'll review chapter 13 asap of GGBB as soon as I get the chance: but be warned, there are more things that I found questionable . . . (runs and hides) I just want to be loved, but my honest-streak won't let me lie . . . (ducks)

Mwafwa : Why does everyone say that Modern Day is ONE of the best fics they've read? (sigh) I never get "the" best . . . :-) Anyhow . . . glad you liked it and you're reading! Hopefully my fanfic will expand some vocabulary a bit. (this is for everyone) IF YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND A WORD, LOOK IT UP IN A DICTIONARY! Do you know how frustrating it was for me to talk to a reader and find out that they just pass over unfamiliar words? Jeeze, how self-damaging can you get? Xian, on the other hand, is from Ranma 1/2, a different anime. Also Ku Lon and Mu Tsu. I am also going to have other "cameo" guests. This part of the story, part 1, is probably going to be another 50 chapters. Yes, I know, that is just part 1. It's . . . okay, so it IS my fault. (looks around) I don't see anyone else to blame it on. Modern Day II will . . . have some other main characters as well. (whistles)

Bob: Can I use that phrase? That is awesome! "And so, the plot thickens like bad New England clam chowder". Coolness. Oh, and CEP says that those are both wish-spells so they don't count.

Grace: D&D is most definitely a role play game that uses rules and dice to determine the outcome of events. In fact, as far as I can tell, Slayers was based off of a D&D game, since D&D stands for "dungeons and dragons" and takes place in a fantasy medieval period. Not that I can spell that without spellcheck. As to anime purists, I used to be one but I started to become a "quality" purist. Iyzeka is afraid of Val for one good reason. Iyzeka knows that Val used to be Valgaav, and she still has a child-like fear of him. Kind of like the fear of the boogeyman or something. Granted, you and I know that it's not in his nature to be sadistic, however, Iyzeka doesn't know that and she still (obviously) has very black and white outlooks on things. I think Val would know that Filia loved him, though.

Grace (cont) as to Xellos losing it, of course it is atypical. He's drunk, and while he himself does not encompass the human body, he is within it, housed within it. It is his vessel, and his vessel is drunk. He dropped the act and forgot the mission because he's drunk. He also is under the impression that he and Filia are ACTUALLY married . . .because he's drunk. I personally hate the characterization of Xellos because it's MEAN and CRUEL, but it is IN CHARACTER. (stressed words given for people other than yourself who aren't as on-the-ball with reading my replies . . .maybe they will read those that have all-capitalized words . . .) Thanks for reviewing, though, and I hope this next chapter sheds more light!


Chapter 39

Hong Kong, China
June 9th, 2002

Iyzeka slinked through the dank alley, eyes adjusting to the darkness swiftly. Whoever's hurting that child will get a big surprise! she vowed, her teeth bared and her gaze glittering below her maroon bangs. Holding the fragment of the Philosopher stone gently in one hand, she made her way at an excruciatingly drawn-out pace.
One toe after another, one step . . . with every slow breath, she could hear the youthful sobbing become louder, then a cry of sharp pain. Growling softly, low in her throat, the slight demoness glanced up at the t-section they had reached in the alley. A harsh male voice spat something to their left, around the bend.
Creeping along the left wall, Iyzeka glanced behind her at Valgaav, then narrowed her green gaze at him. The figure, shrouded in shadows, nodded ever-so-slightly.
Returning her glare to the edge of the corner, Iyzeka snarled again, and the man stopped in his speech, an odd shuffling sounding from the other side.
With ease, Iyzeka bounded into view, her piercing stare halting the darkened form before her and swiftly taking in the tiny body below him. "What are you doing?" she hissed at him.
Quickly, the man pulled out a flash-light, shining it into her eyes. "You," he spoke slowly in broken English, "you . . . not . . . to be here. You, go away!" He waved the torch at her uncertainly.
With the new illumination, Iyzeka could easily see the human child was female, bruises and cuts across her face. Clenching her fists, the tiny demoness' knuckles cracked. "No." She smiled coldly. "I don't think so."

Watching in slight awe, Valgaav remained still and silent as Iyzeka approached the Asian man. She's like a different person . . . AGAIN, he thought with more than a little frustration. I'm never going to get used to this. What about the mission?
A part of him awakened with a familiar rush of adrenaline as she stepped towards the thug, her viridian eyes shrinking, irises slitting suddenly. The man fumbled his flashlight, and it fell to the ground just as she darted forward.
The dragon followed her with his eyes, but in an instant, she stood still on the aging concrete, the brute lying, unmoving, on the ground. "Iyzeka!" Val choked out the name as he stepped forward, only to have her swivel to glare up at him, hands ready. "Iy . . ."
Whimpering sounded from below them, and they turned to see the child huddling against the refuse of the alleyway.
"Did," the turquoise-haired teen swallowed, glancing down at the silent form, "did you kill him?"
Ignoring him, the red-haired demoness turned to the doorway sunk into the nearby wall. Taking the handle and finding it locked, she glowered down at the cowering child, then latched her gaze onto the door once more. From within, they could hear the muffled cries of more innocents.
With a low, breathy growl, the tiny girl who barely reached his chin ripped the door from the hinges easily, tossing it down the filthy corridor. Swiftly, she loped through the doorway, leaving a stunned Ancient Dragon behind her.
"Iy-Iyzeka!" he cried, baritone voice shaking as he dashed in after her, pitch-blackness surrounding him as soon as he entered the unfamiliar building, "NO!" A distant light barely illuminated the corridor ahead, and a petite shadow dashed around the distant corner. "IyzeKAAA!"

((()))

Holding the ends together tightly, Rykker swiftly shook the martini mixer, then set it down right-side up and flicked off the top.
Out on the balcony, behind him, young couples danced slowly to the low, full sound of a melodic woman's breathy voice and thick base beat.
Raising an eyebrow at the tabletop where he sat, the elderly gentleman poured the mixture into his wide-brimmed funnel-shaped glass and tossed in a dusky-green olive, then sighed and leaned back in his chair.
The scent of vermouth in his nostrils, Rykker ran a hand through his short, graying hair and took the martini glass in one hand, sipping it as his gaze flickered across the city laid out to his left.
Suddenly, from behind and to the right of the mercenary, startled yet muted gasps sounded, and he turned to glance over his shoulder. He saw the dancers breaking apart and separating to allow a man to pass through, a curtain of violet hair hiding his eyes from view and a bloodied rag clenched in one hand. A wicked smile painted his cruel mouth, and when he saw Rykker gazing at him unaffectedly, it broke into a sneer.
The music filled the silence left by the young adults' shock, then slowly they pulled away and went into the apartment, leaving Rykker to smooth his ivory scarf down his chest and smile slightly at the timid blonde following the amethyst-haired newcomer as he approached.
"Evening," the older man gave him a slight smirk for a smile, then waved a hand to the table. "You don't look like the type to frequent this kind of party, if you don't mind me saying so." This could be our man . . . he doesn't look fully Asian, but he could be Chinese. If so, however, I wonder who the girl is.
"Thank you," the stranger's nasal voice trilled darkly, and he slid into the offered seat easily, not even favoring his injured right hand in the slightest. "You're right . . . I'm afraid that I am far too old for this kind of event. Far too old to feel comfortable, that is." He gave a smile that could very well be charming, but oddly, or not so oddly, Rykker felt unnerved by it.
"And your companion?" he asked, glancing back to the fair-haired woman whose blouse seemed to be missing a few buttons. In his ear, he could hear Stedman commenting through the microphone, "It sounds as if you've found something."
"Zander," she began in a beautifully dulcet and melodic soprano, "please . . ." Stepping forward, she reached out a tentative hand to him, and with his amethyst head lowered, Rykker could still not see his eyes.
With a swift flick of his left arm, the man smacked her hand away, teeth bared almost ferally. "My name is NOT 'Zander'," he hissed.
Ducking back, the blonde held her hand, grimacing in pain and fear. "Xellos," she whispered, then backed away.
"Good," the stranger whose name appeared to be 'Xellos' smirked at her. "Just go . . . get away from me."
Tears suddenly began rolling down her face, and Rykker tensed sharply at the hurt shimmering within her cerulean eyes. "Alright." She turned and rushed towards the doors back into the suite, back to safety.
Stillness hung over the table for a few moments as Rykker poured chilled Absolute from the bottle and more vermouth into his shaker, his eyes flickering occasionally over to his swiftly silent companion. "Rather harsh, my friend," he spoke casually.
If this man is our target, I'll be surprised. Yet, he's the only other person here of any note. Could it just be coincidence? Somehow I'm not so sure.
Xellos, as he knew his name to be, just frowned at the table, then raised his arms to rest his elbows across the surface, studying his palms; one smooth and unblemished and the other wrapped with a cloth and blood-soaked. "Perhaps," he finally murmured, unemotional.
Disturbing. Taking another glass, Rykker raised the mixer and said, "Stirred or shaken?" From the mic in his ear, Stedman added, "Just say the word if he's the target, old man. Wouldn't want you getting hurt."
The violet-locked man raised his head, and to finally see his slit, animalistic gaze sent a jolt of fright down Rykker's spine. "Shaken," his voice sounded wispy all of a sudden. "If you please."
"Of course," the older gentleman easily controlled his voice to remain a smooth bass; yet the tang of a Southern drawl reasserted itself just a bit more than usual. Doing as asked, he tossed the mixer gently back and forth – not wanting any sudden movements – then poured his new associate a drink, olive included. "So, what brings someone such as yourself to such a party?"
Blinking, Xellos returned to looking at his hands, uncertainty coloring the terror of his coldness and giving him a startling humanity. "Filia," he spoke, and his tone could almost be described as genteel, if a wild beast could ever be tender.
"The young woman who came after you so worriedly," Rykker smiled faintly, sipping his second martini of the night as he slid his companion's drink across the table. At the man's nod and hardening expression, he wisely switched topics. "That looks like it hurts," he nodded to the man's damaged hand.
Lifting the drink he'd been offered, Xellos raised it as if to toast, then sipped from it. "It does. I don't mind."
"As a friend of mine would say, 'The trick is not minding'."
The skin around Xellos' eyes tightened, then he glanced up and smiled slightly. "Robert Bold." His stormy violet eyes seemed locked onto Rykker's own, and he found himself not surprised that they were the same dark, royal coloring as his hair.
"Oh, so you've heard it," the mercenary beamed, sipping his drink once more. "Yes, a quote my friend often tells at dinner parties."
"I don't say it that often," Stedman muttered into his ear. "I do hope you're keeping your eye on the prize, Rykker."
The straight-haired stranger quirked a smile and lifted his nose. "Though," he spoke, and his voice seemed only infinitesimally wavering from inebriation, "if this were a dinner party, I wouldn't be dressed for it."
"You seem to have hit a party before this one," Rykker drawled with a smirk.
"And I still need more booze," Xellos said suddenly, tossing back the martini, then firmly set down the glass, the olive rolling at the bottom of the empty crystal. "Another, if you wouldn't mind." It was more of a command than a request.
"Of course," Rykker spoke leisurely, adding more vodka than usual to the mixer. This man has problems, and perhaps getting him more drunk isn't the answer . . . but I'd rather he be less in control of his faculties than he is now. He's not even slurring his words yet.
With a faux smile, the older man shook another martini and slid it across the small table to his companion. "There you are." He sipped his own slowly, watching as Xellos began to gulp the harsh liquid.
"If," the slender young man giggled suddenly, "if I get drunk enough, things might get easier."
"Oh?"
Raising one violet eyebrow, Xellos leaned over the table and growled, "You have no idea how difficult it is."
"What?"
With a sigh, Xellos rolled his eyes and downed the martini swiftly, catching the olive between his teeth, then dropping that into his mouth as well. "All this damned spy shit," he replied lazily, chewing the fruit as he leaned back in the lawn chair.
Rykker schooled his expression, tapping one finger upon the table. "Oh?" Can this be real, or does he just imagine that he is a spy because he's crazy?
"I mean . . ." Xellos tossed up his hands in frustration, words finally beginning to slide a bit unsteadily, "me and Filia, we're supposed to just be friends . . . but we've been having to act as if we were married for the past three days." He glared at Rykker blearily and declared, "Do you have any idea how tough it is to not have sex with her? Sleeping in the same bed, watching her change clothes; it's a fucking torment. I hate it." His eyes narrowed and he studied Rykker. "You're a spy, aint'cha? You understand."
Startled, Rykker's glass tipped over as he dropped it onto the table. "What?!"
Xellos just snorted and grabbed the Absolute bottle, splashing vodka into his empty glass without much grace. "Don't play coy, buddy. I've been doing this since before your great-great-great . . ." he stopped, then shrugged. "Since before your fucking fake Jesus was wandering around, without any magic at all, helping homeless bums keep on bumming it. Prophets," he snorted, tossing back his vodka. "Shiftless vagabonds, more like."
"I'm . . . not sure I get where you're going," Rykker tried to recover. "'Fake Jesus'?" And saying all of this on a Sunday, too. Good thing I'm not religious.
Laughing sharply, Xellos poured another. "You stupid humans. Your messiah wasn't named Jesus . . . and it sure wasn't a MAN." Grinning at him drunkenly, Xellos announced, "The fucking savior of all mankind was a little GIRL!"
"ExCUSE me?" Rykker blinked at him.
"Fucking mortals," muttered the man sitting across from him, glaring morosely at the bottle of Absolute. "Why the hell do I put up with this shit, anyhow?"

((()))

Beneath the Ocean
June 9th, 2002

Simpering, Kendar slinked into the throne room, dropping himself onto the dreadful, putrid ground and lowering his head to the mossy floor. "Your Highness . . . I bring great news."
"Oh?" Above him on the stone dais, Telgaln lounged across his ebony seat, running his fingers along the edge of the marble arms.
"Yes. I have found Xellos and his companions."
The lanky demon leapt to his feet suddenly, a wide, frightening grin spread across his features. "Have you, now?" He tossed back his thatch of jet hair and dropped down from the dais to stand before his cowering minion.
"But that is not all, Sire," returned the dung-colored Mazoku, sweat dripping from his face. "The children have found the final stone."
Telgaln's coal eyes narrowed, then he grimaced in glee. "Then, we have much to do. Lead us to him, Kendar. But first," and he displayed a ferocious set of pointed teeth in a sinister smile, "gather the Wraiths and lead them to the traitor. We will see how he likes being a betrayer of his race, consorting with dragon Beasts."
Nodding, Kendar rose and cowered as he rushed from the throne room, the sound of his lord's cackling echoing off the walls once more. The Wraiths are killing machines, the tattered creature told himself, terror and anguish struggling to overcome him. Even one as powerful as General Xellos could not overcome so many mindless killers without being killed himself.
Hope sank into oblivion as he phased from the hall, sending out a desperate prayer to the Mother of All for a miracle.

((()))

In a darkened room, a shadow smirked and gazed out into the night. Straightening his tie, the figure leaned up against the window to stare out across the street far below, eyes pinned to the scene before him.
"Old man," he spoke softly, soft Asian eyes smirking as they narrowed, "you truly are foolish. I suppose," he traced a finger along the pane of glass, "that the British Secret Service still hasn't given up on conquering this land . . ." his voice dropped to a hiss. "Or me."
He turned in the blackness and sauntered away from the window and the brilliance of the city. "I know you, now, Mister Rykker. You are my new prey."
The figure's eyes glittered in the darkness with a brilliant vermilion, then were quenched. "Yet . . ." Stepping back to the glass, the man stared out at the balcony, gaze fractured in shock. "Your companion's aura . . ."
Hissing, his hands pulled back, fingers curving like claws. "I've heard of such an aura," he murmured to himself. "One of the demon race. Here. But . . . why?"
His piercing stare locked upon amethyst-locked figure, cloaked in the darkness of his own magix. His power . . . he's not hiding it. There is no possible way that Rykker knows who he is speaking with . . . the Mazoku have not revealed themselves for hundreds of years, they wouldn't start now.
The man growled, teeth bared, at his new threat. I have never SEEN a demon so strong . . . Have the British truly allied themselves with the demon race? It can't be true . . .
But if it is, this has possibly become quite futile.

((()))

Hong Kong, China
June 9th, 2002

Valgaav burst from the darkness, a door splintering as he kicked through it. "IYZEKA!"
He found himself within a huge warehouse, surrounded by screeching, terrified children in rags and uniformed adults, cowering against walls and around steel support beams, while grown men desperately ran from a whirling azure entity, but inexorably fell, horribly lacerated and unmistakably dead, at the hands of the blur.
The dragon took all of this in within an instant, then raced up to the creature, teeth bared. "Iyzeka, STOP!"
Spinning to a standstill, the sky-blue cyclone materialized into a tiny girl. Maroon hair scattered across her face, Iyzeka's hands were curled into claws, long ivory nails extending inches past her fingertips dripping with ruddy gore. "No," she hissed, voice scraping in a frightening duotone and her narrowed eyes glowing a fire-ember garnet. "The unjust must be punished; the innocent avenged."
His mouth dry, Val remembered to breathe, feeling his heart thudding within his chest. "Iyzeka, the police will be here soon. This is really not helping our 'project' you know." Just as he spoke, sirens began to sound in the distance, audible to only their inhuman hearing. "Also, where is the stone? You still have it, don't you?"
Low and rasping, she inhaled and exhaled, staring up at him with those eerie sanguine eyes. "I will not go," her double voice spoke finally. "They will only enslave these children once more. The fragment, however, is safe; have no fear of that."
With a growl, the Ancient Dragon found himself overflowing with rage at her stubbornness, and all fear fled him as he grabbed one of her arms and shook her, ignoring the razor-sharp nails on her hands. "We are GOING, Child of the Dark," he spat at her, then teleported the both of them from the warehouse and onto a rooftop a few blocks closer to the hotel.
From that shadowed height, he thrust her from him, golden eyes tight as he readied to battle the slight demoness. "Come on, then. If you want to fight me . . ." His aura blazed around him as his anger fed the flames of energy enveloping his form.
Stepping back, Iyzeka's ruddy eyes ceased to glow, her nails retracting as she wrapped her arms around herself in abject horror. "No!" she cried, and it was the soprano chime he remembered. "Don't!"
Surprised, Valgaav edged closer to her, only to watch as she shrunk away and curled into a ball of suffering. "Iyzeka . . ."
"No, don't hurt me!" she sobbed as he reached out a hand towards her. "Mommy! MOMMY!!!"
Instantly, as he touched her arm, the redhead collapsed back onto the ground, unconscious. Gasping from shock, the dragon lifted her into his arms and held her close to him. "Iyzeka. What the hell?"
With a shake of his head, Val sighed and turned to look out across the city, watching the squad-cars of the Hong Kong police converging on the warehouse many yards off in the distance. Hugging the tiny girl to his chest, he exhaled slowly once more. "And I thought XELLOS had psychological problems."

((()))

The wind rippled through the tiny figure's long, snowy hair as she spread her arms, staff clenched tightly in one wrinkled hand. "The time is ripe, my children," her old voice cracked as she swung the staff at the brilliantly lit city laid out before her.
Shadows began to surge around her, swelling and dipping with the absence of illumination. "Yes, my people, my blood-kin," she spoke, then slipped into a rolling dialect of wind and rain and eternity.
Come, called out her soul, and the shadows returned.
A lack of sound touched to her right, and she turned her aged body to glance there. "Ah, my child," she beamed up at the woman standing beside her. "I have need of you."
With narrowed amber eyes, the slender lady tossed back her long periwinkle hair and smiled. "Something has happened, Great-Grandmother?"
Nodding, Lon beamed, then looked past her to the taller, silent man that stood quietly, ivory robes glistening in the moonlight and glasses reflecting the creamy shade of cold. "Xian Pu, Mu Tsu . . . an old associate of ours needs our help." She beamed at their confused expressions.
All around them upon the roof of the sky-scraper gathered shadows that took form; old men with canes, bright eyed girls in school uniforms, young men and woman in night-clothes, teenagers in slashed-up rave and party garb. "We're here, Lady Ku Lon," one young man said, running his hand over his spiky indigo hair. "What's up?"
Grinning, she waved her staff, and the light of the moon was doused in clouds, obscuring the world below. "Simple." She turned her head to cackle at her bright-eyed great-grand-daughter and her husband. "After over a thousand years . . . Mèi Yêxìng has returned."
"The WOLF GOD?" Xian stepped back, blanching.
Mu Tsu took her into his arms and glared at the old woman. "You want us to HELP The Incubus Himself? Are you mad?"
"Why would He need our help?" demanded another kin-member, a child aged a mere thirty-seven years. His dark eyes glared down at the monarch. "And why would He have returned, after so long of leaving us at peace?"
The crowd began to murmur in fear, remembering the past they so prayed would never return again.
"Elder," an aging woman called over the crowd, and they silenced, letting her step through them to approach the pale-haired witch. "What you ask is for us to help the enemy that destroyed millions of our brethren. The Archfiend who is now second only to the Betrayer's right hand and Regent. Who is now the Mówáng. Why would such a power need of our help?"
A chilled smile wound its way onto Ku Lon's lips, and she lowered her head in the now-moonless night. "Because," and her eyes began to glow a brilliant white, "we have lain in hiding for far too long. The Master of Beasts, the Conjurer, the Trickster . . . may be the last hope of all existence."
Shock resounded through the crowd, and the kin began to tremble.
"Have I ever led our tribe wrong?" her old voice echoed through the assembly, shaking each to the center of their being as her radiant gaze fell across them. "I tell you now, he is not vanquished of the body, or of the spirit . . ." A kindly smile touched her, and she chuckled. "But his heart has been slain and captured by a female worthy of our ranks, and he shall not be bested by her in combat should they fight an eternity. Thus, we will help him in return for his sacrifice."
"To whom does He give this sacrifice?!" Mu Tsu finally stepped forward, rage across his mature face and lenses flashing a reflection of city lights. "What foreign woman would you so readily give the right to be called a Guardian?"
"A woman you met today," she smirked up at him, and he stepped back, teal eyes blinking in shock behind his glasses. "With a 'husband' whom you bested quite easily in his self-weakened state."
Mu Tsu shook his head, features bereft of color. "No. I couldn't have. It couldn't have been Him. He . . . He is . . . a monster. A God. A DEMON."
She shrugged, eyes losing their glow and returning to normal. "Nevertheless. You bested him. Did you not see the shade of his form?"
"The . . . the imperial hue." His mouth opened and shut, hands shaking. "Tyrian Purple."
Nodding, Lon's eyes narrowed. "I will not order any of you," she turned to her blood-kin, "to aid this mortal enemy of our race. But," she added, "I request assistance. Or I shall go alone."
One by one, the people hesitantly slipped back into the shadows, disappearing, until all that was left were Xian, Mu Tsu, and two identical young women who shivered as they were suddenly garbed in the traditional robes of combat. "We will fight with you," one female warrior smirked.
"After all," said the other, "only a coward would let herself miss the chance to meet The Incubus."
Lon grinned at them and nodded her head at the twins. "True. True."

((()))

As Val leapt over the rooftops, Iyzeka firmly in his arms, he gasped as the moon became suddenly overcast, the night plunged into darkness. "What on earth . . ." Halting upon one decrepit blacktop roof, he glanced around at the brightly lit skyscrapers, the hushed, shrill whine of sirens in the distance. "I should contact Mom and 'Dad' anyhow," he told himself, "since you just had to show off," he finished, glaring down tiredly at the unconscious girl.
Adjusting the young demoness so that he cradled her in one arm, he pulled out his locket and flipped it open, hardly able to see it in the near-pitch blackness. "Xel?" his whisper sounded slightly shaky, and he cringed at the idea that the night's adventures had so affected him.
No answer came, and with a worried sigh, the teenager closed and reopened the heart-shaped communicator and said, "Mom?"
He jolted in place as music blared into his ears, yet he couldn't hear a reply. "Mom, if you can hear me, we found what we were looking for. Okay?"
The heavy beat of the rave music pounded in his ears, and Iyzeka began to stir, her hands grasping at his shoulders. "Hmm, hm-hm," she hummed along with the song, half asleep though she began to sing, "I'm gonna close my body now . . ."
Gritting his teeth, the Ancient Dragon growled into the locket, "Anyhow, there could be danger. Iyzeka lost control. Our cover might be blown. Mom?" His eyes darted across the cityscape, yet he only heard the smooth voice of the female singer.
"Dammit. Well, if you can hear this at all, the sky suddenly became overcast. This is probably a bad sign." He hung his head as the thick thump of the dance music sounded from the microphones.
Shutting the locket roughly, the song cutting out in an instant, he growled, "Hey, Iyzeka," and took the maroon-tressed girl in both hands to jostle her slightly. "Wake up."
She gave no indication that she heard him, so with a groan, the aqua-haired boy set her down, upright, onto the roof. "Iyzeka?" Still holding onto her, he blinked as her arms suddenly snuck around his waist.
"Hmmm," she snuggled tightly to him, and a lurid flush ran across Valgaav's features. "Val," she murmured, her high-pitched voice bubbly and content.
"Come on, we've got to get going," came his dour reply. "Can you walk?"
"I donno'," she answered blearily, clutching tighter. "Vallie . . . don't go away . . ."
He sighed, glancing out at the city and the dazzling splay of lights tossed across the horizon. "I won't. Come on, I'll carry you the rest of the way."
With that, he grabbed her, tossed her up slightly – making her squeal a bit – and pulled her close to him. "You'll be safe, now."
As he started running towards the next building, he could hear her wonder softly, "Val . . . what happened? I don't remember . . ." Her sorrowful viridian gaze seemed to burrow into him.
He ducked his head away from those worried green eyes and concentrated on the tricky path over the buildings he followed. "Nothing happened. You just had a bit too much excitement. Really."
Iyzeka relaxed into his arms and beamed up at him, her eyes closing. "Okay."
There's no way I'm going to let her find out what she's done, Val told himself firmly. I don't care what she is; who knows what that could do to her?

((()))

{I guess I'll die, another day.}
The beat thrummed through her veins; she could feel it vibrating deep within her body.
In every direction, darkness and the writhing of sensual silhouettes surrounded the dragoness, encompassing her in a sea of sound and movement and blackness occasionally pierced by flashes of color.
Swaying to the sound, her soul ached as she recalled the last party she'd been at. Xellos . . . what happened to us? How could so much have changed in so little time? It's only been a week since we were in Giza . . . and I feel as if my life has been flipped upside-down.
With a sigh, the blonde began wandering the crowd, pushing through sometimes, and slipping past gyrating couples without alerting them when she could. Well, at least I was able to find the bathroom and change my pad, she tried to think positively. Maybe I should go back and try to cast a Purification Spell on Xellos, since our cover is pretty much blown . . . but if he's still just as angry . . . Shivering, she paused, her hands rising to clench before her chest. Glancing over her shoulder, through the waves of people, the dusky forms of Xellos and his new companion showed through the glass patio doors. Filia sniffled, then wiped at her watering eyes. Xellos . . .
{I'm – gonna – close – my – body – NOW.}
Shaking her headed, the fair-haired woman considered what she'd been told over the communicator just seconds before. An overcast sky. Valgaav found the stone. Her mind, jumbled with what she had heard, worked worriedly. If only you could have heard me, Valgaav . . . the music must be just too loud.
{For every sin, I'll have to pay.}
{A time to work; a time to play.}
She'd tried to tell her son about Xellos and his sudden behavior, how manic he had become, how violent. But it appeared, quite obviously, that the background noise of the party overwhelmed the sensitive magic of the locket.
I think I'll find, another way. It's not my time to go.
Filia felt a presence at her side, and a warm hand touched her elbow. "Huh?" she spoke eloquently, looking up and to her left as the air suddenly filled with the sound of string instruments surging across the electronica.
{I'm – gonna – a-void – the – cliché}
"Excuse me," returned a voice tinged with a trace of a South Amerikan accent, "but I noticed that you seem to be a bit lost."
{I'm – gonna – de-lay – my – pleasure}
The slender yet solid-looking man standing before her seemed to dwarf her slightly; a few inches taller than Xellos, a roguish smile brightened his clean-shaven face.
{I guess I'll die, another day.}
He dipped his ebony head to gaze at her with clear, intense mahogany eyes. "Not used to parties?"
"Um," Filia smiled shyly, "not really."
He nodded, then glanced around the gathering. "As far as I can tell, most of the people here are from a college trip, from the U. S."
"But you're not?" she asked, her eyes darting from his back to the floor.
With a toss of his head, the man replied, "No, I'm visiting on business. I met some of the students and they invited me to this party, but," he laughed charmingly, "they seem to have vanished."
Filia smiled and held out her hand. "My name's Filia."
Taking her fingers, he brought them to his lips and kissed them gently, causing a vivid blush to blossom across her cheeks. "Aundemond. Most people call me Aundy, though."
Ducking her pale head, the dragoness beamed as he released her hand. "Nice to meet you, Aundy."
Glancing out across the mass of people, Aundy asked, "Would you like to dance?"
With a pause of surprise, Filia looked around, then admitted, "I really don't know how to do this kind of dancing."
"No problem," the man smiled at her, "I can teach you. It is all about having the music within your soul . . . touching your emotions," his voice lowered slightly as he gazed into her eyes, "stirring you into moving with the music."
She nodded, her eyes widening slightly as a shiver ran up her spine, heat flowing across her.
{I guess I'll die, another day . . .}