Writers: Tom, Barb
When: Day 2, afternoon
Characters: Khayyin, Theresa
Location: North Woods, in the Arboretum
Khayyin had set up on a mossy knoll beneath several ancient pines, their
boughs heavy with dark green needles. A large woolen blanket was spread on
the ground and he lay on it on his side, one elbow to the ground and his
head resting in his hand. The other hand was holding open a book which lay
on the blanket in front of him - a rapidly improving autobiography of
Constantine which would not have existed were it not for his library. She
was late, but surrounded by dappled sunlight with birds twittering merrily
in the overhanging branches, he sat engrossed in his book and hardly
noticed.
Theresa stepped out of the turnkey and it vanished behind her as she walked
into the woods. She saw him almost immediately, about thirty yards to her
right, and she started toward him. A narrow sunbeam slashed across him and
made the hair that hung past his collar seem blue-black. Near his feet on
the blanket sat a rather quaint wicker basket. She could see the logo from
the Ethereal Gourmet on a discreet gold disk fastened to the handle. She
watched him look up as he heard her approach, and she felt a tingle of
anticipation. She'd get what she came for, or die trying, she thought with
a smile.
She stopped in front of him and looked down. "You look good enough to eat,"
she said.
He smiled. "You want to start with that, or you want what's in the basket?"
She laughed at that. "That depends on what's in the basket," she said,
smiling wickedly and dropping down on the blanket next to him. "Do you
taste better than what's in there?"
"You tell me," he said, leaning toward her.
She leaned back as he came forward. "Oh, I will, don't worry." She toed the
book laying on the blanket in front of him. "You aren't going to read that
to me, are you? I was only kidding in Molly's this morning when I suggested
it."
Khayyin grinned. "You have no idea what you're missing."
"Oh, I think I... owwww dammit!" She made to lean back on her elbows, then
hissed and sat up quickly, cradling her burned arm.
Khayyin sat up, alarmed. "Are you all right? What happened to you?"
"I ran into something ugly on the Street."
"Occupational hazard?" He asked with a grin.
Theresa smiled at him. "Not quite. She made me late so I didn't want to go
to the Infirmary in case I missed you... I mean..." she laughed slightly.
"Hmmm. That was pretty blunt. Do I lose points for lack of stealth in
seduction?"
Khayyin laughed aloud, enjoying her immensely. "Only karma."
"Well, we have nothing to worry about then, right? What's a little karma
between friends?"
His eyes glittered. "Why, Theresa Merelyan...does that mean you are
attempting to seduce me? Because I warn you, the best have tried. Some have
even succeeded." Suddenly he realized what he'd just said, in light of the
way he'd spent his afternoon, and quickly changed the subject. "Alright, the
food." He opened the basket with a flourish. "I've got wine, both kinds -
although there's really no point in the unreal kind, is there?"
"None at all," she agreed, accepting the glass he poured for her and leaning
back to watch him unload the basket. It was full of wonderful things -
grilled tequila lime chicken, pasta salad with mozzarella, sun dried
tomatoes and olives, grilled vegetables on skewers marinated in a light
vinaigrette, a quinoa and grilled pepper salad, fresh bread baked with honey
and cream.
Soon they were both sitting Indian-style on the blanket facing each other,
the basket and its contents spread between them. They ate slowly and the
flirtatious undertones they'd started out with turned into real
conversation - people they both knew, things that had changed in Purgatory
since each had been back, their favorite foods and places and things. Talk
of last night's pool games led to a challenge being accepted, and finally
sated, they simply leaned back on the blanket side by side and continued
talking as if they'd known each other for centuries. Two hours passed
before either of them realized it. Theresa's arm had long since stopped
hurting.
For dessert there was strawberry cream cake. To accompany it, Khayyin
pulled a bottle of champagne out of the nearly empty basket.
"The best," he said, "Verullian. 2160 - a great year. Jarvis is a very
tricky man - I think he nabbed it from the Institute." He paused, fingers
wrapped around the bottle. His eyes glittered as he shot a smiling look her
way. "And no...I'm not trying to get you drunk and have my way with
you.....you don't need alcohol when you're good as I am," he chuckled. The
cork shot out of the bottle with a pleasant pop.
Theresa rolled her eyes and laughed. "I'm sorry I was late," she said.
"Not a problem," he said, looking over at her with a smile. "I just figured
you were busy doing whatever it is you Hunters do."
A sour look crossed her face. "They tell me at the Portal that I can't go
out for a week. New rules, or some such bullsh..." she clapped a hand over
her mouth, her eyes sparkling. "Whoops. You aren't supposed to find out
about my less lady-like qualities until I've got you wrapped around my
finger," she said, smiling mischievously. "So tell me about your shop - did
you find it just as you'd left it?"
He only grinned in reply as the cork shot out of the champagne bottle with a
pleasant pop. "Mostly. Jarvis didn't rearrange anything--he's got standing
instructions not to--but there was the usual collection of new things. A few
swords, a gorgeous table that looks like it was lifted right from
Versailles..." He smiled especially broadly, remembering that table, and
then his flesh crawled as he felt a sudden, irrational surge of desire. He
flushed with sudden embarrassment, remembering he was not alone. "...that
sort of thing. Of course, you could stop by and look."
"I'd love to," she said, and was surprised to find she meant it. She didn't
know much about antiques, which was ironic considering how long she'd been
around.
He reached for two exquisite crystal champagne flutes. "These came from
there. Some of the better things don't get marked for sale." He poured a
glass and handed it to her before filling his own and lifting it. "To your
wrapping me around your finger. May I not prove as flexible as you think
me - after all, a challenge is a good thing, no?" And he winked at her.
Theresa laughed. "It's not you I'm worried about, sweetie," she said
smoothly, and moved to touch her glass to his in a toast. As the glasses
chimed, her finger touched his and a blue-white spark shot out between their
hands. Theresa let out a small scream and jumped - and the crystal wine
glass flipped out of her hand like a tiddly-wink and flew into the air.
Khayyin's own glass slipped from his right hand, fumbling out of his fingers
and spilling onto the grass. At the same time he made a spectacular one
handed grab with his left and caught her glass mid-air. He set in next to
his on the grass without even thinking about it. "Oww! What the hell was
that?" He rubbed his fingers quickly. A numbness was spreading through his
whole hand.
"I don't know, but that was a nice catch," she said, impressed and shaking
her hand where it had touched his. She smiled at him. "This day just gets
worse and worse. I'd planned on seducing you but if this is what's going to
happen, I'm not sure it's such a good idea."
Surprise turned to a wry grin. "Does this always happen to your dates?"
"Nooooo," she laughed. "Mostly they just burst into flames and disappear.
I'm kidding," she said quickly.
He took a kerchief from his pocket and using it to shield his hand, he took
hers and massaged the offended fingers gently. She watched him and their
hands, separated by the kerchief - it was somewhat effective as a shield,
but not much. She could feel the thrumming of electricity between them. It
hadn't been there earlier when she'd taken the wine from him, and she must
have brushed him a dozen times while they ate.
"Let's try this," she said suddenly, and she slapped her hand down on his
and grabbed hold. There was a flash of heat and then just warmth spreading
along her hand and up her arm. She looked at him to see what he was
feeling.
The muscles in his arm convulsed reflexively, a jolt running up his arm to
his shoulder. A jolt which settled to a pleasant rush he could only judge
akin to a sparkle.
"Theresa," he said. "Wow... I..." He laughed at the inadequacy of the words.
"Talk about electricity."
She laughed with him, slightly uneasy. "Yeah. That's weird," she said, and
pulled her hand away.
"Ever happened to you before?" he asked.
"No. You?"
"No," he said, shaking his head, "not me."
The silence was heavy, and all at once Theresa stood up. "I've got to go."
Khayyin just looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. "I know, call me chicken
or whatever," she waved a hand at him and smiled.
"Will you meet me later at Jack's?" he asked.
"Yes." She picked up her ruined jacket and stepped off the blanket. "Thank
you for lunch."
Writers: Barb/Tom
When: Day 2, shortly after Gus leaves the Casino
Characters: Enoch/Trey
Location: The Karma Casino
The rapid tones of the speed-dial on Enoch's cell phone buzzed in his ear as
he dialed. His brow furrowed in thought as the phone rang, once...twice.
three times before it was answered.
"Trey." The voice on the other end of the line was almost as smooth and
oiled as Enoch's own.
"I was wondering when you'd pick up," he said by way of greeting. "Three
rings is rather...disturbing," Enoch said, contemplating his well-manicured
fingernails. "Don't let it happen again. Now...come here. We have something
to discuss."
"Absolutely, my lord." The connection went dead.
Enoch leaned back in his sumptuous chair, hands knitted together behind his
head. He would have to do something about Trey's tardiness in answering his
phone. His Servitor was a coldly efficient tool at best, a bootlicking toad
at worst....but Enoch was in a position to appreciate both qualities in him.
And he would need Trey in his full capacity for the task he'd planned for
him. The trip over to his office would take a few minutes, which he would
use to his advantage. Thanks to the Tether existing between the two--on a
much lesser scale than existed between Luci and himself--he could have
simply summoned him here. But Enoch considered such displays vulgar and
personally distasteful, despite his capacity to engage in them if he wished.
He left those for the Pit.
*************
Trey folded the tiny phone in half and slid it back into his pocket, looking
down at the man still clutching his arm. His eerily light green eyes
glowed. "Mr. Duncan," he said.
"Pl..please, Trey, just one more?" The man's grip was like iron, his eyes
wild and desperate. "I just need her one more time, I... I swear it will be
the last time!"
"Mr. Duncan," the demon said again in a low voice like ground glass.
He finally managed to catch the man's gaze, and Duncan froze. A welt
appeared on his cheek. It sprang up slowly from his skin, rising, and then
split into a thin gash. Blood trickled down his cheek and neck, and Duncan
let go of Trey and clapped his hand to his face.
"Do not lay your hand on me again, or you will come to regret it," Trey
said, shooting his cuffs and brushing the sleeve of his finely cut suit
where Duncan had wrinkled the fabric with his pawing. He stepped back from
the lust junkie. "I can not help you. Which succubus is available or
unavailable is not determined by me. There is nothing I can do about it,"
he lied smoothly. "For your indiscretion, you will not be allowed inside
the Den for two days. I suggest you use this time for reflection on what
you might to for us as penance."
Trey walked out of the Den of Iniquity and turned left up the Strip. He was
tall, broad-shouldered and extremely well muscled; his suit was charcoal
grey and perfectly cut. His wheat colored hair was all one length and fell
to the point between his shoulder blades, caught in a low ponytail held by a
thin strip of leather. On the side of his neck, just under his ear, was a
small brand one inch square that marked him as Enoch's property. Its raised
scar tissue was blackened and spelled out "Chenosh" in the old tongue. It
was a brand Trey wore proudly.
The doorman at the Casino opened the doors for him while he was still ten
feet away, and he walked through without slowing his pace. He went straight
to Enoch's office and stopped in the doorway, knowing better than to cross
the threshold uninvited.
He bowed slightly. "My Lord."
Enoch looked up from the mindless game of solitaire he was playing on his
laptop. The closest thing approaching joy radiated in his black heart as he
saw Trey standing there in the doorway, the perfect image of subservience.
He smiled smoothly. "Come in. Have a seat."
As his Servitor folded himself gracefully into one of Enoch's fine chairs,
Enoch reached into a drawer for a small box. "Cigar?" he asked. When Trey
silently declined, Enoch shrugged easily. "Very well." He replaced the box
and stared intently at the lesser demon.
"Trey," he began, "I have a task for you. An important task. You know
Naomi?"
Trey's brows knit briefly, then smoothed out. "Yes, my Lord."
"I have assigned her to....pursue...a certain soul. I fear she may hesitate.
She is newly fledged, and yet bears a measure of independence, which I find
unsettling. You shall ensure she remains on task. Questions?"
"How far does my Lord wish me to go in ensuring her cooperation?"
Enoch's eyes glittered. "You have full discretion in this matter. But take
care not to exceed the bounds of....reason?" he chuckled. "The Mistress,
while she is amused by petty squabbles amongst the ranks, would not
appreciate a task being befouled by them. I fear I might not be able to
shield you from her wrath." ~Without taking it myself,~ he thought.
"I understand, my Lord."
"I rather believed you would," Enoch smiled. "You know where she may be
found," he said absently, nodding by way of dismissal.
"It shall be as you require, my Lord," Trey said easily. Rising, he
straightened the knot of his tie before stepping silently out the door. He
was relieved that this was all his Master wanted. To look after a pup such
as Naomi would be easy; it would in fact require, he felt, little effort at
all. And if she were to overstep her bounds... Trey felt a hot flash of
anticipation at the thought of what he would inflict on her.
Enoch watched Trey leave with a measure of satisfaction. He knew and
understood his Master perfectly. Returning his attention to his laptop, he
closed out his game of solitaire, brought up an email program, and began
tapping rapidly on the keys. Just because he was not currently walking the
Incarnated Realm didn't mean he could neglect his duties, and he had a few
leads there to follow up on.
Writers: Aaron, Barb
Characters: Gus, Kel
When: Day 2, late afternoon
Location: The Street, Molly's
"Angel, I need help," Kel said when he'd returned to his office from his
meeting with Grace and the Council.
"Help is here," the voice came back.
"Identify Kel Merelyan."
A pause. "Identified."
"Request location, Gus, soul number..." he checked his Guidewatch and then
gave a long series of numbers and letters.
A longer pause. "The soul 'Gus' is currently at 104 Street. 105 Street.
106 Street..."
"Thank you, Angel," Kel interrupted, and the counting ceased. He grabbed
his coat from the back of his chair and shrugged into it, then called out to
his secretary. "Maddie, I'm going out. I'll be on the Watch if you need
me."
He stepped out of the Guide's Council a minute later and looked down the
Street. He could see Gus a block down, nearing the North 200 intersection.
He started walking toward him.
Gus, for his part, meandered down the Street, taking in the sights and
generally feeling smug. It looked like everyone was going to get what they
wanted out of this situation. Enoch would be funneling Gus a little extra
help, thinking he was helping to corrupt him, Luci would have him there to
'help' her organization, and J.T. would be happy enough with Gus's getting
inside without suspicion, and Gus could finally mess with Luci's operation
from the inside. It was a little complicated, sure, and it meant he might
have to lie a little to keep things quiet, but...
Gus looked up to see Kel approaching him.
"Gus," Kel said when he'd reached him, "I need to talk to you. It's
important. Do you have a minute?"
Gus smiled, "Um, sure. Sounds good. Do you want to talk here, or do you
want to go someplace?"
He looked around, then sheparded Gus up 200 North. There was a small park
halfway up at 49. "Let's step in here," he said, turning onto the path that
led through some trees. "There's been a slight change in plans."
Gus paused. What could Kel mean? He meandered a little, ringing his hands
somewhat. "I... I don't think I understand. What plans exactly are you
talking about?"
Kel looked like he didn't know where to start. Finally he said, "Grace
removed J.T. from Purgatory Central. It seems his vendetta against you was
a little too personal."
"Huh?" Gus said, shocked and confused. "But, what... Why? I..." Gus tried
struggled to find a reason J.T. would be that... that... "So, what are they
going to do now?"
"Red is the head of PC now. She was against this double agent scheme from
the beginning, never agreed with J.T.'s trying to involve the Guide's
Council."
"Well, that's good, at least. Red was always nice to me. So then things
are all fixed up?" Gus fiddled with his buttons a little. What did it mean
for him? Did it mean that everything was off? And how would that play out?
"I've just met with the Council, and with Grace," Kel said. "The good news
is you don't have to work for Luci unless you want to. You know how Grace
is - it's completely up to you."
"Oh..." Gus grew noticeably reserved. Sh*t.
"The bad news is that Channel 7 had it right last night. You really are on
your own now." He looked closely at Gus. "I want you to know I'm here for
you, Gus, if you ever need to talk. Or I can suggest someone else if my
being a Guide makes you uncomfortable."
"Oh, no, that won't be necessary," Gus gave Kel a brave smile. "It's just...
I've already taken steps. Luci is expecting to see me in the morning, and
one of her demons..." Gus looked around. "I... It just gives me a lot to
think about. Do you think Luci knew? Do you think she was aware of what
was going on with J.T.?"
Kel looked pained. "I don't know if she knew before, but she probably knows
now. Grace *gave* him to her."
"So she'll be watching me like a hawk..." The Gus realized he'd already
made the mental leap to consider working for her anyway. "If I go to work
for her, that is." Gus sighed. "I don't know... It just seems too
confusing. What if they decide they want me, even if I tell them I'm not
playing?"
"I'm going to talk to my sister, Theresa, about it. I can't help you, but
she can, if you need it. She's a Hunter, not yet Ascended, so she's got a
lot more freedom than me or Lily. If nothing else, she can at least make
sure they play fair, no matter what you decide to do."
But what could she do? Gus wondered. "I'd be grateful for anything you can
do." But the damage was done. Once more he felt as if he were teetering
over the abyss.
"I'm really sorry it worked out this way, Gus."
"Yeah, me too," Gus murmured. "I have a lot to think about now..."
"You know where to find me if you need anything." Knowing there was nothing
more he could say or do, Kel laid a hand on Gus's shoulder, then turned and
walked out of the park.
Somehow it had all come apart. He'd been pounding the nails into his own
coffin all afternoon. As he looked around the garden an immeasurable
sadness descended upon his heart.
You're treating yourself like a victim, a little voice inside himself said.
You make your own choices. You pick your path, and choose your battles.
Even if there's no place for you in Purgatory Central... Even if you have to
work for Luci at the Agency, nothing says that you have no control over your
own actions. Luci may be able to watch what you do, but she can't control
your thoughts.
Maybe there's merit in doing it anyway, Gus considered. It still burned in
his heart, and excited him, the thought of being so far inside Luci's
organizations and yet somehow making things better. He continued walking
the paths of the park alone, his mind buzzing with options.
Writers: Rob
Characters: Eric, Vinnie, mentions Kel
When: Day 2 Midmorning
Location: Mortal Plane, The Gates of Purgatory
He’d been warned.
He knew all about the danger when he accepted the job: He could, at any time, be attacked, shot at, mangld or even worse. And some of it had happened. Some had not yet happened. And, Paulo had made sure that some of it *would not* happen.
~Amazing what the application of a slight amount of pressure can do.~ he thought to himself, sitting back in the seat of his employer’s car. Over the past seven months, there had been twelve attempts on her life, all of which were foiled by outmaneuvering, outsmarting or out-shooting the assailants as the capture/kill attempts occurred. Not to mention the pure, dumb luck factor that occasionally crept into the equation.
He inserted the key into the ignition, smiling at a job well done. ~It’s Miller time...~
The resounding ‘click’ from the ignition told him otherwise. In that split second, he knew that relaxing his guard, his assumption that he was safe, had killed him. His life flashed before his eyes, a rapid re-run of victories and mistakes.
The car bucked and roared, propelled by the bomb nestled in the undercarriage. The Mercedes sedan flipped into the air with a spectacular pirouette, to land on the roof of its neighbor. There was a moment of nauseating vertigo, a brief, searing pain before a bright orange flash yanked him from consciousness to darkness...
***********
Eric awoke with a cloud of smoke clawing at his lungs. We batted at the thick atmosphere around him, trying to clear enough away for a clean breath before coughing. His lungs racked his chest in heaving spasms they desperately attempted to exchange the sooty smoke for cleaner air.
“Well. That was an *interesting* entrance...”
Looking up from where he was sitting, Eric muttered something indecipherable. The small man leaning over the large desk was impeccably dressed in a black suit, a white shirt and neatly knotted black tie. He smirked at his newest arrival as the smoke rose and drifted away into the darkness.
Eric stood as gracefully as he could, given the situation, and brushed the non-existent dirt from his black slacks. “Vinnie. A pleasure to see you – assuming I’m dead, and not hallucinating.”
“The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure.” Vinnie laid out paperwork, a small rectangular card, and gestured at the screen positioned on the desk. “If you’ll read these documents, and place your hand here acknowledging them, we can get you on your way...”
“Mmm.” Unwilling to comment further, Eric ignored the papers on the desk, instead placing his palm on the screen. It beeped at him, acknowledging his presence and registration. He nodded at Vinnie, gathering the small credit card and tapping it on the desk before striding towards the Gates of Purgatory.
As he watched the massive silver gates swing open, a line from Shakespeare rang through his mind. ~Once more into the gap, dear
friends...~
He strode into the massive hallway of flashing screens and milling souls that was the Depot with a small smile on his face. As he wove through the majority of lost, confused souls, he noticed a face that brought memories cascading down in an avalanche of emotion.
Kel.
Writers: Tom, Barb
Characters: Khayyin, Theresa
When: Day 2, evening
Location: Jack's Bar and Grill
Khayyin had been sitting in Jack's for ages, or at least it felt that way.
He was nursing his second pint, drumming his fingers on the small round
table at which he sat. He'd already fought off three challenges for the
pool table he'd had staked out, and was not relishing another. But... it was
practice, and practice... well, it made a certain cliché that he wasn't
altogether certain he'd ever approach.
He was about to take a glance at his watch - for perhaps the fifth time,
he'd lost count - when Theresa walked in. His eyes widened to small disks
of liquid night as she strode the floor as if she owned it. A slow smile
illuminated his features. Damn, but she knew how to instantly captivate a
room. The clothes certainly helped; everything she was wearing was blood
red leather. Over the knee boots much like the ones she'd worn last night,
a maddeningly short skirt which left nearly eight inches of bare thigh
visible, the form fitting long sleeved half jacket that bared her midriff
showing off the gold ring in her navel. Her blonde hair hung like a silken
sheet past the middle of her back.
He watched every little motion as she walked up to the table, and his
response was animalistic and instantaneous. He could see her under him,
over him, surrounding him; he could see his hands digging into her flesh and
hear the sounds that would come from her and himself. He could almost feel
her hands on him when Luci's sultry voice whispered in his mind. Suddenly
he jerked like he'd woken from a frightening dream. What was he thinking?
On some level he knew Theresa deserved more than that, more than simple
lust. On the same level he was surprised to realize that he deserved more
than that too.
Pulling himself together as she approached, he stood and pulled a chair out
for her. His smile was wide and welcoming. "I was beginning to wonder if
you were going to show."
"It seems like you're always waiting on me," she said, taking the seat he
held out but careful not to touch him. "I'll just claim women's
prerogative - it's my Grace-given right to be late."
Khayyin rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "As you wish," he finally
said. "I wouldn't know too much about Grace," he said with a laugh. "How's
the arm?" he asked, reaching for it. "Are you okay?"
Theresa slid her arm off the table and into her lap before he could touch
it. "All better now. I went by the Portal Clinic and got it taken care of."
His face, all serious concern as he reached out for her arm, changed to
puzzlement as he realized she had not touched him yet, even though she'd had
the chance. He changed the subject. "You sure you want to play?"
"I'm sure. Are you bringing it up to try to get out of the bet? Trying to
give me an out?"
"Hell, no," Khayyin said quickly. "I've been looking forward to showing you
a thing or two all day."
"I've been looking forward to you showing me a thing or two all day also,"
she said, propping her chin on her hand and staring at him as a smile played
on her lips.
He shot her a quick wink. "Ok, then. First, the most important question of
all: What're you having?" The transition from concerned solicitude to rogue
was completed in a matter of less then seconds. It was a subconscious aspect
of Khayyin's personality that had stood him in good stead for millennia.
Most people he met - mostly women, to be fair - found it charming, though
there had been those to whom it had been simply irritating.
Theresa was charmed. She grinned at him. "Martini, dry, three olives, ice
cold."
He stood and placed her order with the waitress, then glanced back at her, a
sparkle dancing in his gaze as he picked up a cue. Hefting it, testing its
balance. Nodding to himself, he stepped forward to break. Multi-colored
balls rocketed around the table with a satisfying "ker-rack!". A stripe
dropped into a side pocket. "Well," Khayyin mumbled to himself, "the game's
afoot." He bent at the waist, face close to the table as he scrutinized his
shot. Standing, he smiled over at Theresa. "Watch and learn, m'dear," he
said.
She rolled her eyes and stood to choose her own cue. "Talk, talk, talk."
"You can still stand down, you know... I'll just have to find some other way
to teach you a lesson." His smile could have lit the room as he took the
shot.
"Over my dead body. Oh wait..." she laughed merrily. "Sorry, handsome, but
while I'm sure there are a lot of things we could teach each other, I never
welsh on a bet."
Two more stripes fell spinning into their pockets before Khayyin missed an
easy one-dead on, not more than three inches from the pocket. Resting the
cue over his shoulder, he walked back to the table, smiling sheepishly.
"Looks like it's yours," he said.
She looked at the balls he'd left on the table - quite a few of them...too
many. "You aren't holding back on me, are you?" she asked, eyes narrowing
as she looked at him. "Going easy in the hopes of winning my favor?"
"Nah," he shrugged. "I figure I already have that... what I want to see is
what *you've* got," he said, emphasizing the word just enough.
"Uh huh. Keep watching." She eyed the table and then moved around in front
of Khayyin to take her shot. "Six in the corner," she said.
Khayyin's eyes scanned her delicious form as she bent over the table. He
was beginning to not care if he won or lost - watching her in that outfit
was almost worth losing.
And then he saw it. The smile fell from his face as his heart dropped to
his feet. As she'd leaned over and aimed, he caught a glimpse of something
high on her inner thigh that turned his blood cold. He reached for his
pint, swilling the remainder of well more than half in one long pull. He
watched in shocked silence as Theresa played on in blissful ignorance. ~No,~
he
thought. ~That's impossible.~
She made the shot and the ball fell neatly into the corner. "I'm about to
show you what I've got so you want to pay attention here," she called over
her shoulder, glancing at him as she lined up her next shot. Unaware of what
had caused his suddenly dazed look, she laughed. "Don't be scared, this
won't hurt a bit."
She sunk five more balls before scratching. When she turned to say
something sassy, she realized he hadn't spoken since she'd started playing.
His face was pale and distracted looking, and she leaned the cue against the
table and walked over to him. He didn't appear to see her at all. She
crouched down in front of him and touched his hand. The thrumming warmth
spread up her arm but she held on. "What's the matter? You don't look good,
Khayyin."
Khayyin flinched slightly at her touch, but it was not the tingling heat of
her skin against his. No, that felt like heaven. "Theresa," he stammered,
"I'm... I'm... I'm sorry," he said in a rush. "I don't feel well... I have
to leave." The words tumbled out as he rushed for the door, leaving her
there in silence. His head was beginning to throb, his stomach felt sick,
and his heart ached.
And there was a place he needed to go.
Writers: Barb, Tom
Characters: Khayyin, Kel, Lily
When: Day 2 late p.m.
Location: 1001 Manor, Kel and Lily's country house
"All this time," he mumbled to himself as he stalked down the halls of The
Manor. "Of course, that's why they'd have made her a Hunter." The ancient
words, the words of his first tongue, rang again in his ears: b'gaay
t'salmavet. And he knew exactly what had happened there. Or at
least he could guess. He wasn't sure which reality would have been worse.
Pulling up short, he stopped at 1001. He needed information, and this was
where he could find it. Long, delicate fingers balled up into a fist, and he
pounded on the door. The noise echoed down the silent hall.
***
Kel hastily jumped off the bed and pulled on the pair of jeans he'd tossed
on a chair not a half hour ago. The pounding on the door continued
unabated. "Whoever it is, they're in an all-fired hurry," he said to Lily,
pausing to look at her among the pillows on their four-poster. She was
laying on the bed, raised up on her elbows looking at him. Her hair was
tousled and her sheer nightgown was falling down one shoulder. He pointed
at her with a grin. "Don't move, or I'll make you sorry for it when I come
back." He barely ducked the pillow that ricocheted off the door jamb.
Not even bothering to button the jeans, let alone get a shirt, he waved
Jessup away and opened the door himself. "This better be... Khayyin," he
said in surprise, "What are you doing here?" He stepped aside to let
Khayyin in. The look on the man's face was a strange mixture of fear and
fury. The man didn't look well at all. "What is it? What's the matter?"
Khayyin leaned weakly against the door as Kel shut it behind him. His face
was pale but his eyes burned with a feral intensity.
Kel stared at him, gesturing him into the study, but Khayyin neither moved
nor spoke. "What *is* it?" he asked again.
Khayyin drew a long, ragged breath, reaching into his coat pocket for cigar
and lighter. As he did, his hand trembled visibly. "Kel," he said softly,
"is there something about your sister I should know?"
"Theresa?" Kel asked, puzzled. "Like what?"
Flame erupted in the room, reflected in Khayyin's eyes as he pulled on the
cigar, lips pursed around it. His head fell back against the door with a
hollow thunk as he exhaled bluish smoke. "Theresa... how did... was she ever
in..." His left hand snaked through his hair and then he rubbed his eyes,
taking a moment to gather himself. Putting it into words was worse,
somehow, than just living with the suspicions. Finally he fixed his eyes on
his friend. "People don't just come back from The Pit, Kel. What did she
have to do to get out? I need answers. Now!"
"How did you... Wait. You think her karma... That she was sent to the...
No, no! That's not it at all." Kel shook his head vehemently, a shocked
expression on his face.
Khayyin smiled sadly. "I don't think, Kel--I know. She's marked. I saw it.
Your sister bears a brand of the Hells," he whispered.
"Brand? What brand?" Kel's eyebrows knit as he waved Khayyin into the
study.
Khayyin's boots, accompanied by a thin metallic jingle, echoed hollowly
behind him as he went along behind his friend. Khayyin's eyes were closed as
he walked, taking long drags on the cigar clenched between his teeth. He'd
been here before, and the floor plan to most of Kel's chambers was in his
head, unreeling itself in his mind's eye. "You know as well as I do that
the demons mark their 'property'," he said venomously, moving to Kel and
grabbing him by the shoulders. "How'd she get the mark, Kel? How did Enoch
get his claws on her? Tell me what she did to get out of the Pit!"
"I'll tell you what I know, just calm down!" Kel snapped, shoving Khayyin
back a step. He walked to the sideboard and poured himself and Khayyin a
tumbler of whiskey. "She... it was..." He handed Khayyin his drink and
took a huge gulp of his own, closing his eyes as the fire burned down his
throat. "Give me a minute."
"Alright," he said softly, his anger and confusion fighting for dominance
inside his head. He accepted the drink, tossing it back as if it was
nothing. The amber liquid disappeared from the tumbler in one long, firey
swallow which sent tingling down the back of his throat.
"First, I don't know anything about any brand. If it's there, as you say,
she's kept it to herself all this time," Kel said, and the implications of
that sunk in. He sat down in one of the leather wingback chairs that faced
the fireplace.
"Oh, it'd be tough for you to have seen it," Khayyin said bitterly,
gesturing pointedly with his stogie. "Damn him," he growled, "Damn me, damn
all of us." His face contorted in pain as used the palm of his left hand to
grind the glowing embers of his cigar into nothing. A thin tendril of smoke
rose from the skin, but eddied and dispersed as quickly as it had appeared.
Khayyin sank into a chair himself, leaning back in a sudden weariness and
cradling his offended hand. When he finally spoke again, he was more in
control of himself. "So, how'd it happen? Tell me."
Kel put a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes. When he began speaking,
it was in a low monotone. "Do you know about Winterthur?" At Khayyin's
headshake, he continued. "It was a long time ago - nearly a thousand years,
Purgatory time. A millennia. Theresa was young but she'd been a Hunter for
almost that long already. She was, and is, one of the best Hunters they
have. That's how she was selected for the mission - it wasn't for just one
demon, there were six of them. Thanatos knew she could handle it - Michael
was her partner even then, and the two of them had a perfect record.
"But something went wrong while she was on the Mortal Plane. From what
Thanatos told me, she'd tagged five out of six, and was going for the last
one when it came at her. She fired just as it jumped on her. Tagging the
sixth one activated the Portal. Michael was trying to separate her from the
demon but he couldn't do it. There's a reason the Hunters aren't supposed
to physically touch the demons when they tag them. When the Portal opened,
she got sucked into Hell with the rest of them. And once that happens, you
can't get them back - the system isn't designed that way. They go into
holding until their status is determined."
He paused then as Lily came into the room. She didn't speak, she just went
to Kel and stood behind the chair he was sitting in, laid a hand on his
shoulder. He reached up and covered her hand with his own, not looking away
from Khayyin.
"Holding," Khayyin snorted. "Nice turn of phrase for something not quite tht
simple." Small muscles at the periphery of his jaw clenched and released as
he thought of what that meant.
"It took us two days to get her out of there - and two days in the Pit is
like two centuries. When we got her back, she was... different. Jumpy,
scared. Every little thing frightened her and she trusted no one. Grace
and Thanatos talked about washing her memory, but they decided against it.
It was an accident, but I think they viewed it as a test. They'd talked to
the Fates - I don't know what their part in it was - and in the end, they
just left it alone."
"Ah, the inscrutable Immortals," Khayyin said. "Forever keeping their own
council..." His dark eyes flicked up to Lily briefly, as he mustered a
ghost of a smile for her. "Heya Lil," he said. "Sorry I didn't say hello
earlier."
Lily gave him a smile, but her eyes were dark with concern for both of them.
Khayyin glanced back to Kel, who drank from his tumbler then ran a hand
through his hair. "It was a long time before she was herself again. She's
never spoken of it - not to me, or anyone else that I know of." He shot a
look up at Lily, who shook her head. "I don't know what happened in the
Pit, Khayyin. I didn't know about Enoch's brand on her either."
"Why can't they just remove the mark?" Lily asked.
"You can't remove the mark of a demon from the true form. Once it's there,
it's permanent." Kel paused for a moment, thinking. "Enoch marks his
property on the neck, just below the ear. That's not where the brand is, is
it? I'd have seen it."
Khayyin shook his head. "No...it's a bit more....creative," he growled.
"The location must have some significance." He looked at Khayyin but
quickly held up a hand. "I don't want to know where it is, don't tell me."
"As long as you don't tell her," he said. "She bears Enoch's brand, and I
don't think she knows he's my..." he fell into silence. "She can't know. Not
yet."
"No, I won't say anything. She's never shared her experience there with
anyone, as far as I can tell. We don't talk about it." The look on
Khayyin's face was different than when he'd come in the door - the the shock
was gone, replaced by exquisitely controlled rage. It was frightening.
"Khayyin..." Kel began.
Khayyin stood up, drawing his wiry form to its full height, glowering behind
his cascading mop of hair. Glass clinked gently as he set his tumbler down.
"Thank you, Kel," he said. Curiously, his voice was emotionless, a cold dead
thing. "I appreciate your telling me this." As he spoke, the volume of his
voice dropped to something barely more than a whisper, a blade of speech
slicing through the air. "Now...you'll have to excuse me. I have a small
matter to discuss with... my son."
With that, he wheeled silently and left the room, nodding to Jessup as he
went.