Chapter: 27
Livia sat cross-legged in the center of her room, silently sewing her pointe shoes. Now that the performances for The Nutcracker had died down, the focus had turned to the next show—Sleeping Beauty—in which Livia was the lilac fairy in. A role she had wanted to perform for a while now. Rehearsals were picking up, and she'd been wearing through her pointe shoes faster because of it. The hemorrhaging of money for her pointe shoes aside, there was only so much jet glue can do hence new shoes and a need to break them in as well as sew…she also needed the distraction of working on her shoes. The method of her breaking the pointe shoes in was practically muscle memory at this point, so whenever Livia had a lot on her mind, she knew it was time to break in some new pointe shoes. And boy did Livia have a lot on her mind.
Breaking the news of Klarion's reemergence had gone about as well as Livia thought it would. Outrage at being left out of the loop, worry for Livia's wellbeing, suspicion as to when or how many times Klarion had been privy to significant moments or information, concern for what it meant for the future. Afterall the whole point of tying Klarion's essence to a host that was an ally was that they could trust said host. Now there was uncertainty, there was fear…especially now that Klarion had access to Livia's cataclysmic energy. A power none of the Justice League had ever encountered while facing Klarion. Him being able to use it through Livia proved troublesome, especially when who they'd potentially go up against was a friend as well as a child. Livia couldn't exactly walk them back from their concerns, she could only point out that Klarion hadn't actually done anything but kept her from a life of magical servitude and meandered around Gotham Academy for a few measley steps. With Livia's powers and Klarion's better understanding of what new or darker abilities, he could have done anything. This point only prompted more questions and more concerns. Valid questions and concerns. Things that Livia had been wondering quietly herself.
What did Klarion want? He implied he was right where he wanted to be, and yet he was asserting his will over hers on more than one occasion. There had to be an endgame if he wanted to take that control, he couldn't just want to stretch his legs as a teenage girl from time to time. There was something more, something significant…something he was hiding. The thought, the wondering, concerned Livia; her frown tightening as she threaded a needle to darn the box of her pointe shoe, the other was already finished. Usually, Livia would play some music or put on a TV show while sewing her shoes, but she wasn't in the mood that night. Her thoughts ran rampant, circling like a vulture in her head. The concern for Klarion's true intention was vibrant and persistent, however whether Bruce had gone to tell Constantine and Zatanna about Klarion proved to be the loudest of the many things crashing through her head.
Bruce had been insistent on telling the magicians about Klarion, they needed to know. It was their field of expertise; they knew the best way to help. The best means to keep Klarion at bay, or to teach her control or how to fight those moments when Klarion pulled her into the deep dark depths of her subconscious. But Livia had been resistant, quoting Constantine's threat of an exorcism, the risk it posed to her. The problem of letting Klarion out around all of them or the spellcasters—he could emerge with all the powers he'd lost when the Baudelaire's cast their spell those centuries ago. That could be exactly what the demon wanted from the start. All the hard work of keeping those abilities from Klarion's grasp would be for naught. In all, the risk of ending up dead or powerless was too much of a risk for Livia to bear. Bruce hadn't exactly backed down, he merely retreated in silence though the accusation of 'you should have thought of that before you made this choice' reflected deeply in his eyes. Livia had been quick to shoot back 'And you stood by and watched, will you do the same as they rip my power from me? Kill me?' her words resounded silently in Bruce's mind; words only for him. Klarion's hooks might be deep, but Livia's were deeper yet in this vigilante family. She had become such an integral piece to their cobbled-together puzzle. Perhaps it was a harsh thing to say, perhaps it was selfish to want to keep her power…it was certainly not selfish to want to live. Still, Livia wasn't sure if Bruce decided to tell the others. If family was important to Bruce, keeping Gotham, potentially the world, safe was just as significant.
Even with that concern floating vividly in Livia's mind, the unknown motive rang louder. If they knew what Klarion wanted, why he wanted the control he had over Livia's' body or to keep Livia as the host of his essence or keeping the power limited by Livia's reluctance to give over complete control…perhaps they could fight, figure out a way to stop Klarion. If only Livia could talk to Klarion again, could trick him. He was after all a part of Livia, they had merged, her subconscious was his subconscious…even with Livia in control. If they could move as one body, one mind, one consciousness…then shouldn't she be able to speak with Klarion as she is speaking to herself right then and there? Like a Jiminy cricket? Like a conscience?
With that thought, Livia stopped her sewing, needle poised to pierce the light pink satin. As if on cue, Plagg appeared off to her left, a glittering warning in his eye as he let out a strong 'meow,'
"It's not that bad of an idea," Livia murmured in response. Another discontented mewl, "I know it could just infuriate me…or lead to another possession…but if it gives me some kind of direction, some clear reason for why Klarion is doing all this, and if it will keep Constantine from exorcising my ass, I've got to at least try." Plagg let out a hiss but remained in the room, meandering to curl up across from Livia as if to keep watch.
Livia took that as permission and set the pointe shoe down, shifting slightly to sit more upright as she placed her hands gently on her knees, palms down. She needed all the grounding she could get. With a deep breath, Livia closed her eyes and looked within herself. There was a way to access this part of herself, Livia knew there was. She'd inherited every dark magical ability Klarion had accumulated over the course of his time as the Embodiment of Chaos…that was Livia's now. Yes, she'd grappled with issues accessing that power since merging with Klarion…that didn't mean it wasn't there. She'd been hesitant, scared even…what power did a chaotic primordial being have? The possibilities overwhelmed Livia as much as they terrified her. Regardless of what power there was, this was Livia's body…hers…no one else's and only she'd control it.
After what felt like eons, but turned out was only a few minutes, Livia finally blinked open her eyes. Seeing that Plagg had curled and fallen asleep, Livia relaxed, slumping slightly as she let out a sigh,
"No snarky remarks from Klarion today…to be honest I'm a little relieved," she muttered, giving Plagg's deep black fur a light pet, "Let's lighten the mood and call Darren over! That's certainly better than dreading the unknown demon that's currently controlling my body at random intervals!" With a cackle at her own bad joke, Livia scooped up her phone, a smile on her face at the thought of her boyfriend slipping in through her window with a kiss, like a knight in shining armor.
The armored Talon regarded him/her/them warily. Uncertain as to why he/she/they were there, were there others with them, was there an ulterior motive in crossing paths so blatantly with the perceived enemy. It was amusing, and he/she/they let it show, grinning, baring teeth in the dim light of a Gotham alleyway. The Talon shifted, uncertain by the expression on his/her/their face or perhaps it was the red eyes he/she/they were certain the Talon could see clear as day that had them pausing. It wasn't quite his/her/their own yet...the body, the muscles, the limbs that were so unlike their previous—much better and preferred—body. It felt foreign, even still, however, the effort to exert control over the host was always draining, and the strength and will of the original owner always hindered the comfort of a new body. But that was why he/she/they were there. The merge did not quite yield the results he/she/they wanted, the loophole crafted into the ritual, prior to its rediscovery by the Baudelaire girl, by Markus, enabled one essence to remain in control, there was no joint equilibrium nor was there a battle for dominance. A very unjust outcome in his/her/their opinion. But beggars can't be choosers, and there were other means to obtain what he/she/they wanted.
Whether the Talon was unnerved or irritated he/she/they couldn't tell—their face was masked, desiring to keep their identity hidden. But he/she/they still knew, not that he/she/they would tell. That was why he/she/they arranged this 'introduction' they understood, they had what he/she/they wanted. And mutually assured destruction was such a lovely thing. The Talon regarded the strange grin, the stiff…ill begotten…stance and seemed to decide to play the peculiar game set in front of them. Perhaps the Talon could sense the opportunity, the advantage this meeting might present to them—them and their Court. An advantage, a prize, the girl provided against the Court's enemies,
"You do not seem to be who you appear to be," the Talon mused, "What sort of magical trickery is this?"
"No trickery—that is no trickery to you," his/her/their voice sounded harsh, as it rattled through an alien throat. The intonation and enunciation emphasized differently; the body unused to the voice of another being forced through its throat, though the sensation and grating sound was lessening. Each trip to consciousness was doing its work, "Consider me…trapped. I'm in need of liberation,"
"And you expect that from me?" The Talon's voice dripped with arrogance. He/She/Them was centuries old…thousands of years old, and this infant felt entitled to condescend him/her/them? The rage roared within, and he/she/they tried to reach into the fathomless void of power held within the core of his/her/their being, only to come up empty. The access to that power had been the most frustrating piece of the ever-evolving puzzle that was the Baudelaire lineage. He/she/they could access the power, however briefly and with however exertion and effort which led to him/her/them losing the yoke of control back in the school. It was where he/she/they encountered that boy, where he/she/they had learned of 'Talon' which somehow implied that they were also an "Anchor." So deliciously perfect, an anchor…an anchor whose blood was most certainly used in Markus' updated Merging Ritual. In the shadow of the old, a new plan emerged. After all like called to like,
"Not from you, but from your leader,"
"And what do you know of them?" The Talon was on guard now, critical of the knowledge he/she/they had of their organization and operations,
"I know a triumvirate was enacted between your leader, the assassin leader and the woman from the other world,"
"Woman from the 'other world?'"
"Perhaps you're not as informed as you believe you are," he/she/they said simply. That angered the Talon, their hand snapped up around his/her/their throat,
"Perhaps I'll end you right here and now, you'll have your own kind of liberation then, would you not?" The Talon hissed,
"Ah ah ah," he/she/them choked out, "Remember whose body I walk in," the effort now, draining and aching as he/she/they dipped deep to grab hold of the cataclysmic power this Baudelaire girl so easily wielded. The blackened tendril of power, pulled so painstakingly from the core of his/her/their power, curled around his/her/their wrist to the palm of his/her/their wrist like a snake…ebbing and flowing dangerously. A reminder of what was at stake for the Talon. The Talon shoved him/her/them away, reeling back from the toxic power,
"Unnatural monster," the Talon hissed,
"I didn't think you were the superstitious type," he/she/they mused, a smirk curling their lips—the movement more fluid, easier, less jilted like machinery,
"What could you know about me?"
"I know you wouldn't want your identity known,"
"Would he ever believe you?" The 'he' in question was the boy, the boy from the school,
"It wouldn't come from me as I am currently. And I have my means…perhaps you'd move up your time table to avoid my interference, but we both know you leader wouldn't allow that, not with the threat of this girl and that boy hanging over your little organization," he/she/they knew very little, not all that was said while aware or hovering just close to the surface in the earlier days of the merging ritual was retained…but enough would get him/her/them through this little rendezvous,
"What of my Grandmaster then. How can she give you what you want? And more importantly, why would she even consider it?"
"I was offered a fourth seat…for their triumvirate to become a quadrumvirate instead, by the assassin leader. But at the time I turned them down, I thought I would not need assistance in getting the freedom I wanted,"
"You…were offered—I don't believe you. Why would they offer you that opportunity?" The Talon sputtered in disbelief,
"You don't have to believe, you're just the messenger. As to why, perhaps because I am presenting as a woman and their grouping is filled with powerful women, perhaps it was because I am in the form of the woman that boy Talon loves who is the son of one of the triumvirate members. I don't know the exact reason, nor do I care," he/she/they monotoned, "If your plans come to fruition and you become in possession of that Talon you're so insistently hunting, I need some of his blood. That is all I require,"
"That's it…that is all?"
"It is,"
"And what would we get in return?"
"You'd be rid of the Baudelaire lineage. No magical danger would threaten your precious Talons again,"
"Except for you...whatever you become,"
"I'd be an ally." The Talon was quiet for a moment, considering, perhaps wondering if anything would come of this ridiculous proposition,
"It can be done…there will be plenty of blood to collect from the boy once we are through with him. As long as you pull through, you'll get it."
"Perfect, that's all I ask." Another face splitting grin, though the bravado was fading. The Baudelaire girl was clawing her way back up from oblivion. The strain of holding control was growing stronger, "Shall we shake on it?"
"I'd rather not," The Talon muttered, skulking back into the shadows from whence they came,
"Suit yourself."
Livia woke to a hand gently carting her long dark hair from her face, cupping it lightly with a familiar callused palm, a thumb ran blithely across her cheekbone,
"Livy?" She blinked awake to see Darren crouching near the edge of her bed, his blue-grey eyes soft in the dimmed light of her desk lamp, his dirty golden hair haloed in its gentle luminance, "You invited me over…did you fall asleep?" a soft small smile tugged at his lips as Livia yawned, stretching slightly as she lifted herself up onto her elbow, reaching with her other hand to clasp hold of his,
"It seems I did," she sighed tiredly, letting out a small, surprised chuckle. Livia pulled his hand from her cheek and planted a light kiss to the inside of his wrist, just at the edge of the black band Darren wore,
"If you're tired, I can leave. I'm meeting the others for patrol in an hour or so, I can do a few sweeps while I wait for them,"
"No, I'm not tired," Livia stated dropping hold of his hand and sitting upright fully. And she didn't, she felt suddenly wired restless and wanting. Staring into Darren's level, hooded gaze Livia knew he saw the shift in her energy, her mood…he was always so good at reading her,
"Yes or no," Livia barely got the words out as Darren leaned in, pressing his "Yes," against her lips in a deep and breathless kiss. Livia shifted, pulling her legs underneath her as Darren stood, dipping only slightly as he deepened their kiss. Livia pulled herself closer, tugging at the hem of his loose sweatshirt. Darren pulling back briefly, in one smooth motion, pulled it up over his head, throwing it to some forgotten corner of Livia's room before pulling her close. Livia twined her hands in his hair, feeling the pressure, the fiery heat of desire sent her heart racing against her ribs. Darren pulled back slightly, planting kisses to her jawline feverishly, his hands moving, caressing Livia's body. Both of them exploring, moving as one with familiarity, until Darren shifted a hand too close to her shoulder with the untethered spell wound and Livia inhaled sharply wincing in pain. Darren reeled back,
"Liv, I'm so sorry are you okay! What did I do…did I hurt you…?" Livia blinked, the absence of his lips and body was nearly jarring,
"Darren, I'm fine. It was the untethered spell, I just wasn't expecting it is all," Livia stated simply, reaching for him again, but Darren pulled away again, gently grabbing hold of her outstretched hands,
"No, I…are you sure. You're okay? You're not still in pain?" His eyes searched her face, as if he could see the deep minutiae of hidden pain etched there,
"Yes. I'm sure," Livia insisted, trying not to sound impatient, "Now please don't—," whatever Livia was going to say was cut off by the precipitous whooshing trill of a portal whipping itself into existence. Livia and Darren jerked a part, both staring dubiously at the swirling, ebbing mysterious portal that just appeared in the center of her room,
"Um…uh…did you make that?" Darren finally asked,
"No. I definitely did not make that," Livia mused, slowly and deliberately shifting off the bed to her feet. Its sudden appearance made her uneasy. Before she could do anything, like try and dispel the odd thing, someone stepped through. A familiar someone, with a tan trench coat and a pack of cigarettes in hand.
As Constantine landed in the room, he took inventory of Livia and Darren, standing dumbly by the bed. Darren was shirtless—scars and tattoos visible in the dim desk lamp light—Livia rumpled with a bra barely hooked and strap falling off her shoulder with her pants unbuttoned, she hadn't noticed when Darren managed that without her realizing, but in all honesty that was the direction they were going in anyway,
"Well, this is certainly interesting," The Brit drawled, popping the butt of a cigarette in his mouth. Livia felt herself flush, with embarrassment that soon turned to anger. Darren's expression was dark as he took a step in front of her, letting her straighten her clothing out in the privacy his body and height created. Stepping back out, Livia narrowed her eyes at Constantine the full force of her irritation sweeping away the thrills of lust. But Before she could demand why he was appearing in her bedroom in such a manner at such a time of night, a second figure stepped through the portal, one with clear blue eyes and long deep dark black hair. It was Zatanna and she held tight to a black obsidian crystal, a firm and serious expression on her face. Livia's stomach dropped. Both magicians, here…like this…this wasn't a visit, this was an ambush. Bruce told them after all and despite whatever warning Livia hoped the Bat gave them about the consequences, they still both decided to take matters into their own hands,
"What are you doing here?" Livia questioned shrinking back against Darren, her initial rage quieted to a feeble whisper. Zatanna merely looked at Constantine,
"Well?" she said expectantly. Constantine sighed, shoving the cigarette he'd taken to his lips back in the box as Darren took an irritated step forward, in front of Livia,
"You're clearly not wanted here, I think it's best if you both leave,"
"Oh, do you now? So polite too, not quite the welcome I got when we first met huh?" Constantine mused,
"I'm working up to it," Darren ground out through bared teeth, his hands curling into fists,
"Too little too late little Talon," Constantine sighed, raising his hand—even as Darren lunged forward—curling it into a loose clawed fist twisting it ever slightly one way and then the other. For a second there was silence, as if nothing had happened, and whatever spell Constantine cast had sputtered into nothingness, however Darren's lunge forward stuttered to a stop as he crumpled to his knees with an agonized cry his hands clawing at his head,
"Darren!" Livia cried, rushing to his side. He was still yowling, straining…squirming as if trying to get away from something—Livia couldn't get a hold of him to help to find what was hurting him, his eyes rolling wildly around the room as if trying to pinpoint the source of his pain, "What did you do to him?" Livia demanded, summoning a fireball, not sure who she should attack first or if that would even help Darren. She didn't know what had been done to him, or how it had been done at all,
"Well, magic doesn't really affect him…but he does have sensitive hearing. Just imagine thousands of nails scratching down a blackboard, pretty incapacitating isn't it," Constantine stated jovially, as if it was some funny prank, "on a frequency only he can hear…oh and dogs or cats too, so if there's any cats here like say a familiar…?"
"What is wrong with you?! Why are you here?!" Livia yelled, surging to her feet, aiming the fiery sphere at Constantine when it just sputtered and died. Livia tried to look at her hand, to see what had caused the magic to fizzle out…but she couldn't, Livia couldn't move. It was as if she were frozen in the position of throwing a ball,
"I'm sorry Livia but we need to do this. It's for your own good…we need to know how much of Klarion's essence is entwined with yours. If he's at risk of becoming free," Livia's anger and bewilderment battled as Zatanna magically maneuvered her to her bed, laying her down gently before placing the black crystal on her chest. It settled there for a moment before it shifted, hovering just above her heart,
"Two minds in one body is dangerous,"
"It's not two minds," Livia barely bit out against the immobilization stone. But relief flickered through the panic, they weren't there to perform an exorcism…they didn't know about Klarion using her body. But she couldn't focus on that, only the fathomless anger that raoared within her as she struggled against Zatanna's spell. It was a violation to forcibly go through a magician's mind…they both knew this and were acting despite this fact.
The spell immobilizing her canceled out as soon as the gem was in place and though Livia surged upright, wanting to help Darren and to get the magicians away from her and her head—it felt as if she were shifting through honey, or drying cement. The crystal was acting to hold her down, to weigh her down so deeply that she couldn't move or fight them. The stone was a spell in itself, meant to keep Livia from stopping them as Constantine and Zatanna worked their magic. Disbelief echoed the creeping fear and anger she was wrestling with, withering away her surprise at their attack.
Darren was struggling against Constantine, and the magician circled to be at his back, concentration, and strain clearly on his face. This 'nails on a chalk board' trick seemed to be an active effortful spell, it was tiring him out Livia realized with mirthful delight—though that joy vanished as Constantine pulled out a wicked-looking knife; it seemed to have been carved from a jawbone,
"What…what is he doing?" Livia could barely speak, the muscles in her throat spasming from the effort, as she struggled to move, to throw herself from her bed and to where Darren knelt crumpled from the pain of the sound he was experiencing. Zatanna whirled to face Constantine as he pulled Darren's head back and sliced deeply across his throat, blood seeped and spurted freely from the cut—it was deep, not a surface wound…it would not heal quickly even for a Talon, certainly not one in such distress and pain,
"Constantine, what the hell are you doing? This is not what we agreed!" Zatanna hissed furiously, enraged shock in her eyes,
"Relax, he won't die," Constantine stated, drolly looking up at her from where he held Darren's head back as if trying to rip the wound deeper, "This is just assurance that he won't wake up and attack us mid-spell…he doesn't understand and neither does she. And he's not above killing like the rest of the Bats are, I don't want to take my chances with him...certainly not after that horrible spell,"
"And you think murdering him will get you in his good graces?" Zatanna asked shrilly,
"Look, we're working with some heavy magic here, an enraged and murderous Talon would tear through us as if we were newspaper." Zatanna looked ready to argue again, but thought better of it…though she looked slightly ill at the prospect of what Constantine had done.
As Darren choked and gurgled on his own blood, scrabbling for purchase of the man at his back, Constantine then plunged the knife deep into Darren's chest. There was no reaction as Darren was a Talon and didn't feel pain, but Livia cried out, horrified to see Darren brutalized as he was. The blade stuck out, hovering upright by unseen forces before it shifted, forcing itself deeper into Darren's chest until even the hilt was encased by the wound itself. It was a spelled blade, a magical weapon. Darren thudded to the ground as Constantine let him go, his blood spilling freely over the wooden floor,
"I'll kill you," Livia hissed vehemently—the tone and severity surprising her, though she didn't let up—as the two magicians stood over her. She struggled, she flailed, she spat curses—willing her arms to move, to be free but the magic was too strong. Still Livia lashed out,
"I'll kill you, I'll kill you both, I'll hunt you down to the ends of the earth for this," Livia meant it, she meant it. The wrath she felt was fathomless. Profound and desperate fury encased her like a tomb as she reached, deep within herself for the magic she hadn't touched, for the magic she didn't know or understand. The world around her quaked, the windows along her apartment block shattered, the pavement cracked and crumbled as fire hydrants burst and car alarms wailed. The power—whatever this energy was—warped, rippling, radiating, around her, twisting traffic lights and street lamps all the while Constantine and Zatanna were still leaning over her, chanting their voices in unison their poise unbothered by the magic Livia was sending out into the world. Black flickered across Livia's sight as she desperately clung to consciousness, not wanting to be sucked forcefully into oblivion not knowing who would emerge—herself or Klarion. Then they would know, then Constantine would enact the exorcism and take her power and possibly her life,
"I'm sorry," Zatanna said at a break within their combined spell. Livia merely spat out a stream of threats and curses hatred hot on her tongue. Livia fought, tooth and claw, mentally, magically…but it was too much for her—the weight of the stone and the power of the joint magicians. Livia was forced under into darkness.
Seconds. Minutes? Hours? Later, Livia jerked awake, her eyes flew around the room, expecting to see Constantine and Zatanna peering down at her—wondering if she'd survived their unwanted magical ministrations—only to see the room was empty of their presence. The portal was thankfully gone as well. A gasp pulled at Livia's lungs, she sputtered at the sharp effortless inhale that rattled down her throat as she patted herself down. Wondering what the effects of the spell were, panicking that she'd somehow changed into Klarion permanently. Once she realized she was still very much herself, Livia silently, painstakingly reached within herself—stifling a desperate sob—exploring the core of where her magic should be. Only releasing a sigh of relief when she felt it there, strong, and vibrant and alive. They hadn't taken her magic, there had been no exorcism. But then what had they wanted, what was their endgame? Would things have been differently had Darren not been—
"—Darren!" Livia gasped, shoving herself upright—again surprised at the ease of movement—and rolled herself off the bed her legs buckling at taking on her full weight after the effect of the stone. Livia's knees hit the wooden floor and her gaze landed immediately on Darren's crumpled form. There was not as much blood as she feared there would be, Livia wondered if it had dried or seeped into the floorboards. Either way Darren was dead, the gaping wound on his neck still garish, red and stretched too wide—like his head was barely attached, impossible Livia knew but the image and thought were still horrifying. His eyes were opened, unseeing, glazed over. Livia crawled over to him, rolling him from his side to his back,
"Darren," Livia rasped, her voice barely a whisper, as if her were sleeping and not dead, "Darren!" she hissed again, louder, her voice dripping with desperation and worry. Why wasn't he waking up, why wasn't he healing? Why weren't his eyes gold…they remained blue and were clouding over more and more with each passing second,
"Darren, please," Livia managed, a sob in her throat as she shook him. Livia cursed Constantine over and over and over again in her mind, him and Zatanna…and his stupid knife. Livia's eyes snapped open, the tears pooling there halting, the knife, the thought rattled through her head like a promise as she glanced around the room—shifting but not leaving her place by Darren's side—her eyes darting to every nook and cranny, not seeing the bone white hilt anywhere. Had Constantine taken it with him when he left…or…Livia froze, her gaze sliding slowly back to where Darren lay, realization and dread settling there.
Swallowing thickly, Livia shifted closer to Darren, getting to her knees so she could work to roll Darren onto his back. He flopped like a fish, boneless and limp, his unseeing gaze now directed at the ceiling—though the eyes were rolling too far back, no muscle being used to hold them in place. With trepidation, Livia ran a hand over Darren's still, cold chest, eyeing the wound Constantine made with the knife. The hilt wasn't visible, it wasn't poking out of the wound in any way, though Livia remembered how the blade moved on its own. Digging itself deeper into Darren's body. Biting her lip, Livia brushed her hand to the edge of the jagged knifewound, still raw and ragged. She grimaced as her fingers felt along its edge, nothing…either it was gone and something else was wrong, or the blade was deeper in the wound. It was deeper inside Darren's body.
With another shaky breath Livia shifted forward, bracing one hand on the wooden floor at Darren's other side to counterbalance her weight as she took the hand already at the wound and with effort and a cringed expression Livia shoved her hand fully into the wound. It felt impossibly deep, humans shouldn't have this much depth…but they were a cavity, for bones, ligaments, tendons, organs…and blood. Livia didn't think of what she touched or felt, what she was breaking or ruining on her way in and through. In the end it wouldn't matter because Darren would heal himself. Her fingers brushed the cool dry hilt of the bone dagger, a sigh of relief escaped Livia's lips. She had been right, this weapon was what was preventing Darren's healing ability. Most obstructions—bullets, darts, objects in general—could be pushed out by the electrum to heal. Something this large—and perhaps even magical—wouldn't budge even by the force of the Electrum working to heal Darren's body. Livia grasped the hilt firmly and pulled, it took some effort—like slicing through thick butter—but eventually the blade was yanked free with a disturbing slurping sound. Livia dropped the dagger, her forearm dripping with blood and gore from entering Darren's body to retrieve the weapon. It clattered jarringly on the floor. Livia wanted nothing more than to throw it far out of the building, to somewhere it would never harm Darren again. But instead she turned her focus to Darren's still form.
The effect was immediate. Darren's eyes sprang to life flaring a brilliant gold as the wound on his throat healed over, followed quickly by the wound on his chest. The Electrum working faster than Livia had ever seen it take effect, it was as if the delay caused by the dagger jumpstarted the process and gave it a speedy kick in its means of recovery. Darren's chest heaved as he took a shuddering bearth, flailing for a moment, unsure of where he was, who he was with,
"Darren," Livia said softly, reaching for him only to pull back as Darren flinched, struggling to shift himself away form her, "Darren, it's me. Livia,"
"Give me a minute," Darren rasped as he twisted into a hunched over sitting position head bowed, putting a hand between them, like a shield.
Livia wanted desperately to put a comforting hand on his arm, to pull him close and offer love and support, but knew at the moment it would insight the opposite effect. Instead she waited, kneeling next to Darren as he healed and reoriented himself. His eyes were wild, still gold—most likely from the internal injuries and abbrasions healing—wheeling around the room as if expecting enemies to leap out from the shadows, or perhaps trying to find where Constantine and Zatanna were. Wondering whether they were still a threat to him and Livia. Or maybe he was somewhere else, not entirely there in that room with Livia. He'd been killed so many times before, who knew where—in his mind's eye—he had come back to life. He needed the space and time to reconstruct reality around himself.
Darren's hand went to his throat first, clapping the healed over wound there as if just fully remembering what had happened. His hands moved to trace the invisible wound on his gut from the dagger. Seeing the healed wounds had Darren closing his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it go as a sigh of relief. When Darren opened his eyes they settled back to their familiar blue-grey, his gaze light but intense as he reached for Livia cupping her face in his hands,
"Are you okay? Are you hurt? What did they do?" He demanded, his eyes searching for something wrong. Livia moved to reach up and hold onto his hands desperate to feel anything but the chill that covered her from head to toe, her arms erupting into gooseflesh at the thought of Cosntantine and Zatanna rooting around her head without her cognizant awareness but she stopped short remembering the blood on her hand. Darren's gaze immediately landed on the substance,
"It's not mine," Livia stated firmly, swiftly swiping her clean hand over the dirtied arm as if removing a glove, the blood and grime ebbing away at the movement magically, "I'm fine." Darren's gaze then dropped to the discarded blade, still covered in his blood and a shudder rippled through him as he pulled his hands from Livia's face to once again run over the wound that blade had once carved into his chest,
"What is that dagger?" Darren whispered, "What did it do to me? That was not a death I've experienced before," if Livia felt unsettled by Darren's appearance and death by the dagger, she was broken hearted by the sentiment, the reality, that Darren's faced death many times before that night…and yet somehow it had been unique, it had been harrowing,
"I-I don't know. I've never seen a blade like that before,"
"It moved as if it were alive," Darren muttered, his gaze intense unmoving from its stare at the dagger,
"Maybe that's why he used it…it burrowed into you. It might be why the Electrum couldn't push it out of your body to heal, it just kept…drilling down every time it tried to get it out,"
"I'm going to kill him," Darren snarled his fast twisting viciously,
"Not if I kill him first," Livia hissed back, "I don't know what they were trying to do or what they found when they did root around in my head…but whatever it was—they left me here unchanged,"
"Maybe they're regrouping, or telling Bruce? Maybe he was in on it, you told him about Klarion,"
"Something about what they said when they arrived told me Bruce hadn't mentioned anything to them. They didn't know about Klarion—," whatever else Livia was about to say was cut off by the sound of a rapt knock on her door. Darren jerked, stiffening as he glared at the door, while Livia scrambled to her feet. Eyeing the mess on the floor from what remained of Darren's blood. With a muttered curse Livia swiped her hand over the floor, waving away the rust colored stain with a mere thought. Darren had moved, stilted and stiff—as if still partly in Rigor Mortis—to where his shirt had been thrown. Unfortunately, it had landed near where Darren fell in his scramble with Constantine and was stained bright red. Darren grimaced, if from the sight of it, the memory or the smell…or all three…Livia didn't know. With a minimal thought Livia waved her hand, cleaning the floor and herself was one thing clothing was a bit trickier to clean. Though she could change the shirt—even the material—instead. Darren's shirt changed into a plain white tee with a giant yellow smiley face on it. Darren made a face at the shirt, scowling lightly in Livia's direction,
"Sorry!" She whispered tersely, "I panicked!" Before Darren could reply or Livia could try and change the design again, her door burst open—her dad apparently concerned by the silence—and Alaric waltzed in. His eyes immediately landed on Darren and a grin alighted his face,
"Darren! So good to see us, you're just in time!" Livia blinked, confused,
"Uh…just in time for what dad?"
"Dinner of course," Alaric said it so easily, no second guessing or afterthought or consideration that he might be referring to something else. Darren looked perplexed, but remained silent clearly not wanting to get on the wrong side of her father. Livia on the other hand glanced at her alarm clock, it was close to ten-thirty at night, they ate dinner hours ago,
"Uh, Dad, it's not dinner time, we already ate? What are you doing?" Alaric's eyes darted from Darren to Livia, they were wide and bright and dilated, the grin on his face never faltering or dimming. He acted as if he didn't hear her,
"C'mon, right this way," Alaric turned on his heels and started down the hall toward the living room,
"Dad, what…? Wait—!" Livia hurried after him, Darren at her back alert and on edge. Nothing felt right, there was a pit in Livia's chest as her dad practically danced away ahead of them going on about dinner. Peter met them halfway down, stumbling out of his room half asleep his head swiveling as Alaric passed, bewilderment on his tiny face,
"Livy, daddy's lost his marbles," Peter whispered. Livia ruffled his hair as he passed,
"Go back to sleep Petey. I don't know what is going on with dad…but I'm sure there's a logical explanation," Livia hurried after Alaric who had sauntered into the kitchen through their dining room, only to freeze in place, Darren—and apparently Petey who stubbornly followed them out—fear, panic, and bafflement coating her spine in an icy sheen,
"Or…something a bit more magical…mortal minds are always so easy to manipulate. Isn't that right…Livy?" The voice was calm, was quiet, but tinged with pure unyielding fury and hatred.
The voice belonged to Jennifer.
A/N: Hope you liked this chapter!
Honestly another one of my favorite chapters to write!
From Klivia's bargain with the mysterious Talon was fun to create. Really all of Klivia's chapter sections are so fun to write. This moment is the definition of 'why are you hitting yourself?' only Livia doesn't know she's apart of that game. She's essentially a vessel for Klarion to create her own downfall and she's completely unaware of it. That makes it unnerving, creepy and frustrating, as well as scary, all at once. Especially as a reader (and I guess also a writer lol).
I know that perhaps Zatanna's involvement in the second half might be a bit far-fetched. My interpretation of Zatanna's character I feel is a bit misaligned to how she's been portrayed in other versions of DC Comics, shows and movies. For me I've adopted the storyline of her father becoming Dr. Fate from the Young Justice TV show. I really liked that key point in Zatanna's story/characterization of the series. I honestly wish they had done a bit more with it in the later seasons but it was a big cast of characters at that point so I understand why they didn't. I also always incorporated how that impacted her emotionally and mentally as an influence for why she is involved with Livia's curse. She knows the most about hosts for primordial beings. She's worked closely with Dr. Fate. She has worked for years to try and undo what happened to her father. Of anyone Zatanna knows the consequences of hosting someone-thing-like Dr. Fate and Klarion. Now why would she go along with Livia's plan if that were the case? For one, it would save Livia an innocent person from being killed/destroyed by Klarion. For another point, it meant Klarion would not be freed at full power if Livia had eventually succumbed to her curse, that was the risk of letting it run its course. Livia as the host for Klarion also meant she'd be able to keep tabs on him thorugh Livia-however Constantine kind of got in the way of that as well as Zatanna's responsibility to the Justice League. The reason Zatanna is going along with the events in this chapter is because of the risk of Klarion walking free, in the body of a teenage girl with the full powers of a primordial being including the cataclysmic energy the Baudelaires stole from him all those centuries ago. Zatanna's main goal is to prevent Klarion's complete freedom at full power, she already failed to save her father from Dr. Fate, she won't fail to save the world from Klarion.
Darren kind of being bamboozled in this chapter might seem out of character...but his mind was on other things. And the use of magic to pretty much destroy his eardrums didn't help. Think of the magical move Bonnie uses in the Vampire Diaries to stop a Vampire in their tracks. That's essentially what Constantine was doing. The knife was also heavily influenced by the dagger used to desecate Klaus in the Originals. Not the iron knives but that really cool looking bone dagger from the later seasons. Is Darren a vampire, no, but he has similar abilities and the ideas work loll. Also upon reading this chapter back I was damn this is a brutal chapter.
Livia's anger was certainly justified. And she dipped deep into power she didn't know she had. Livia hasn't really touched upon the deeper wells of magic she has as the host of Chaos personified. She doesn't want to be tempted but it's also that she doesn't know what's there. In her moment of anger and fear, she dove into that well of extra magic even if it didn't really seem like a significant shift, it was. She didn't have control of the outcome-hence the impact being external to the situation at hand-but it did significant damage outside her apartment complex. I used the power Elyon in the TV Show W.I.T.C.H displayed when she first discovered she had magical powers. I liked the interpretation of who her power worked, it was destructive, it warped metal/materials, it was a seismic ripple of raw power. I wish they explored more of her abilities and that kind of power in the show, but it is what it is. I get to extrapolate with my own characters so that's the best part of creative writing loll.
Now, next time we have the second punch of this one-two punch combo...with Jennifer!
As always PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!