#it reminds me of the dark tendrils oliver sees wrapping around people who are about to die

[yourfaveisanavatar]

mothman from north american folklore is an avatar of the end!

[herradhighpriestess]

Deliberate Exchange

Summary: Elka Green is at work the morning the Exchange. She is one of the hostages pulled onto the motorcycles and not released. Elka is married to a conservative judge, in a loveless marriage, there's all sorts of drugs, sex and violence and political references/quotes that could offend, I hope you enjoy, xoxo I don't own any of these characters etc.

Chapter One: A Personal Note

Elka Green climbed the steps of the Exchange building, her eighteen hundred-dollar Gucci heels sounded in staccato clicks on the pitted and well traversed steps of the Exchange.

She tossed her hair back and adjusted the silk scarf that was loosely wrapped around her slim neck. Elka’s dark blonde hair fell long past her shoulders.

A sharp breeze blew in her direction, and a single tendril of her macadamia nut oiled hair caught in the loose knot of her scarf. As the wind died down, the single strand of warm blonde hair pulled free of her scalp and settled in the silken valleys of the designer fabric.

Elka paused at the top of the steps when she heard someone call her name.

“Elka, hey Elka!”

She forced her lips into a welcoming smile as Jerry Reynolds jogged over to her.

“Hey Elka, how was your weekend?”

“Good morning Jerry, it was pleasant. Thank you for asking.”

Jerry ran a manicured hand through his seventy-five-dollar haircut. Elka started walking again and kept her matte lipstick smile fixed in place as she headed in the direction of an organic coffee cart.

Jerry kept pace and prattled on about his weekend, completely oblivious to Elka’s disinterest. She struggled to not roll her eyes as Jerry rattled off story after adventure about his wild weekend.

Elka’s smile turned genuine when Albert Phinney pressed a white lid on a recycled paper cup and passed it to her as she walked up. “Good morning Mrs. Green, I hope your weekend was well,” he added as she accepted the hot cup from his hands.

Albert watched her intently as she took a sip of the steaming soy concoction. She smiled warmly when the sweet espresso flooded her mouth and coated her taste buds.

“Today, it’s a soy hazelnut macchiato with a dusting of cinnamon and nutmeg.”

Elka took another sip as Albert whispered that he had added some light agave syrup. Monday through Friday, Albert made Elka a mystery espresso. It was a tradition that had started more than seven years prior and showed no signs of stopping unless one of them ceased to live.

It had been Elka’s first day at the Exchange, she had started on the lowest part of the totem, barely clinging to its wooden splinters. She had been obscenely early for her first day, not many people had been around. Albert had been brewing coffee and unwrapping and arranging sweet pastries and Bavarian cream filled delicacies onto plastic platters.

Elka had straightened the stiff collar of her stark white blouse and pinstriped blazer as she approached Albert’s coffee cart. He had offered her a warm smile and didn’t tell her that he wasn’t quite set up for business yet when he saw her nerves peeking out from behind her statuesque and stoic facade.

Elka stood a little over 5’8 and in her Jimmy’s, she came in just a hair under six feet. Albert’s smile broadened when Elka couldn’t decide on a coffee and held up a wrinkled, liver-spotted hand to pause her indecisive litany.

“Allow me to make you a drink not on the menu,” he had whispered in a low conspiratorial tone and bustled about steaming soy milk and adding an amber colored sweet syrup.

Elka had smiled gratefully and accepted that first drink which started the long-running weekly tradition of Albert creating her morning coffee. She always abstained from one of the tempting and delicious looking buttery pastries. Every great once in a while, Albert would top one of her morning espressos with whipped cream and fat light-brown raw sugar crystals.

Elka put a few dollars in the battered paper tip cup and headed to the large revolving doors of the Exchange with Jerry hot on her highfalutin shiny, leather heels.

Elka breathed a sigh of relief when Jerry said he’d catch up with her later and hopped into an already packed elevator to head to the bustling seventh floor. She casually waved at him and continued in her preferred solitary fashion of the carpeted floor of the Exchange.

She sipped at her macchiato and reveled in the sweet coffee as she readied her mind for the day.

Elka was Mrs. Elka Alsina Green. Married just under four years to Justice Calvin Patrick Green of the Supreme Court.

They had met when Elka had been a key witness in a defense case against a legal firm CEO caught up in a masterful Ponzi Scheme. Judge Green had waited until the verdict had come in and had slammed his gavel down before asking her out for dinner.

In their short marriage, Elka’s bullish behavior and competitive drive led to her being promoted to her current position of an Information Systems Analyst Supervisor. Her intense focus at the Exchange led to people loving or hating her, unfortunately Jerry was head over heels for her, smitten beyond belief, despite Elka’s multiple reminders of her marriage.

She hadn’t wanted to hurt his feelings by adding that she held zero attraction towards him.

Elka swirled the coffee in the dull green paper cup as she stalked through the Exchange and paused to say hello or offer a few passing words to several colleagues. After she finished the coffee, she fished a pack of gum from her burgundy Louis Vuitton bag. Soon the sweet and artificial peppermint coated her tongue and chased away her coffee breath.

Elka adjusted the shiny plastic badge over her heart as a familiar and delightful nervous energy filled her body, leaving a vast tingling in its wake that danced through her limbs as she waited for the opening bell to ring.

As Elka’s heartbeat increased and she snapped her gum faster, Jerry had remained at the Exchange entrance and looked down at the older man running a stiff bristled brush over the tops of his shoes.

Jerry could nearly see his reflection in the buffed surface of his shoes.

“You can’t short the stock because Bruce Wayne goes to a party,” Jerry said loudly to the man sitting next to him. The man whose name Elka couldn’t seem to remember. Dennis.

“Wayne coming back is change. Change is either good or bad. I vote bad.” The man who Jerry was looking down upon in his current sitting position as well as in life was a very loyal man with five grown daughters. Esau pretended to be every part the simple-minded man who was shining the shoes of the pretentious, all in hopes for a few crisp bills and shiny coins to rain down around him.

Esau continued to work the brush over the tops of Jerry’s gleaming shoes, urging a glow to swim to the surface. As Jerry and Dennis continued to discuss Bruce Wayne, Esau let his eyes wander over to his black nondescript backpack which held a loaded automatic weapon.

“On what basis?” Dennis asked.

“I flipped a coin,” Jerry answered casually before adding. “Come on let’s go scalping,” he said as he tossed a fresh five-dollar bill to land next to Esau‘s leg.

Esau watched Jerry adjust and smooth down his royal purple tie that stood out proudly against his bright blue and white striped shirt.

While Elka covered a deep yawn, Scott Carthwright pulled a creased ten dollar bill out of his pocket when the delivery guy from Antonio’s, a stellar delicatessen, walked up with a brown paper bag.

Scott opened the bag and pulled out the parchment wrapped sandwich that was supposed to be a mortadella on wheat with a fat pile of pungent pepperoncini and thick rings of Vidalia onion. He was looking forward to the olive oil and balsamic dressing that would soak the bread and impregnate it with the progeny of sweet, bitter, spicy, and savory. Scott let out a dramatic exasperated sigh and looked at the delivery guy who sported sharp features and a hooked nose. “It says rye, I said no rye man.”

The salt and pepper haired delivery man, Joshua, flicked his eyes over to the clock before his gaze landed on Scott’s plastic badge and ID number, G13689.

While Scott continued to bitch about his sandwich, on the marble landing of the carved staircase, Karl pushed a wooden handled mop along the floor after a pair of traders walked past. His beige monochromatic clothing made him almost disappear in the sea of ostentatious bustling busybodies with their platinum money clips, excessive caffeine consumption and high blood pressure.

Karl glanced down at his sunny yellow mop bucket filled with sudsy water.

Submerged in the soapy water was a matching automatic weapon to Esau’s, which laid in deadly dormancy, waiting to take lives.

Elka glanced up at the large clock and made her way to her glass-walled corner office, which was sprawling and spacious, she smiled at the fresh peonies her secretary Janice had left on the corner of her desk.

No sooner had Elka taken her seat and booted up her computer, when her life changed irreparably by a masked man in a leather jacket.

The metal detectors began to blare their alarms as Bane walked into the lobby of the Exchange, armed guards milled about with their federally issued .40 caliber handguns.

Bane’s broad shoulders were encased in a well-worn and creased leather jacket. DCS Downtown Courier Service, was emblazoned across the back in dull brick red letters.

Bane’s thick and heavily corded muscular neck and body were obscured by the fire engine red helmet that drew the attention of Sandra, a full-time member of the Exchange’s security team.

Sandra approached Bane and began to recite her repetitive litany for newcomers to the Exchange.

Her dark hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and she struggled to not roll her eyes in irritation at yet another person not being able to read the sign that clearly stated to remove all headwear, from hat to motorcycle helmet.

“Hey rookie, lose the helmet. We need faces for camera.”

“Come on,” Sandra managed before the red helmet was off Bane’s head and smashing into her face. The bridge of her nose exploded, and she saw bright blue stars before losing consciousness.

She would awake in a narrow emergency room gurney a while later, a plastic IV line in one arm, keeping the pain down to a dull roar.

In a brutal display of startling power, Bane moved to the right and swung the helmet in an arc, catching another guard in his forward momentum. He dodged left and avoided the next man’s reaching arm and gun. Bane slipped around the man’s extended arm and forced him to discharge his weapon before dropping him to the ground.

Bane looked around at the fallen guards, his veins and arteries swelled and became engorged with lethal toxicity. His body moved with the feral grace of felines stalking in the tall brush of the Serengeti.

“This is a stock exchange, there’s no money you can steal,” Jerry said in a tone that still held the repugnant tone of his obnoxious silver-spooned upbringing.

“Really? Then why are you people here?” Bane rebutted quickly and pulled Jerry roughly by the neck to a nearby desk. Bane slammed Jerry’s soft featured face onto the desk’s paper cluttered surface and ripped the plastic access badge from his chest.

Dennis tried to sink into his seat and disappear off of Bane’s radar, his sweating fingers struggled to not drop Bane’s red motorcycle helmet onto the ground. He felt like he was going to piss his pants, sphincter tightening. His stomach threatened to reject his liquid latte breakfast, acidic bile burned at the back of his throat.

While the metal detectors continued to blare their alarms as the masked group of men stormed the lobby. The masked men were all heavily armed and swarmed the offices and took up post by the elevators.

One of the men sprayed a line of bullets in the ceiling and the abrupt gunfire quieted a lot of screams.

Another anonymous man lifted a bullhorn to his masked mouth and began to speak. His voice reverberated through the lobby and reached Elka’s ears as she crawled under her desk and hugged her knees to her chest, through the glass walls, Elka could see that Janice had taken the same position under her own desk.

“Disobedience will be punished by death,” the masked man began and in a brutal display of startling power, grabbed one of the crying interns who was wailing incessantly and pulled her to her feet. He swung the bullhorn in an arc, catching the crying woman in mid-sob and knocking her unconscious to the floor.

“Cooperation and silence are what will allow you to retain your life.” Elka peeked around the corner of her desk as the masked man looked around at the people shaking in fear, the veins and arteries in his muscular neck swelled and became engorged with lethal toxicity. His body moved with the feral grace of felines stalking their unsuspecting prey in the tall brush.

Elka ducked back under her desk as the man’s gaze took to sweeping across the faces of the scared men and women standing in trembling huddles. They were corralled by their own fear, nearly paralyzed with the thought that the next bullet fired was going to kiss them between their shoulder blades.

Elka took a sharp intake of breath and nearly felt the weight of the masked terrorist’s eyes pass over where she was hidden from view. She flinched when she heard his voice grow in volume as he moved down the hallway, his men had spread out and were dragging people from their offices and impromptu hiding spots.

Elka pressed her lips together and inhaled deeply through her nose, she tried to remember all the jargon her yoga instructor spouted about finding a place of calm and being able to breathe away anxiety. She closed her eyes; her heartbeat was pounding in her ears with a dull roar and she couldn’t shake the image of the masked man. A short film on perpetual repeat, danced behind her eyelids of his predatory stalking around the Exchange floor, his eyes found every weakness among the hostage masses, from their red blood cells to their very warm, wet core.

Elka risked another peek around her desk just as the armed man did another visual sweep. His eyes landed on Elka when her face appeared around the mahogany desk. Elka found herself unable to move, trapped under his warm caramel colored eyes.

As the dangerous man approached her with light footfalls despite his heavy boots, he watched her expression fill with fear. He smiled behind his mask as he closed the distance between them, walking towards her with deliberate and painful slowness.

He stopped in front of her, “stand up,” he ordered and pointed to the floor in front of him. He watched her struggle to stand and found he barely had to drop his eyes to return her wide-eyed stare. His eyes fell to her plastic badge indicating her supervisorial capacity.

The next few moments were a blur for Elka, she was startled back to reality by the feel of his massive hand enclose around her bicep.

From the closeness of his proximity, his voice caused her stomach to clench and her mouth went dry.

“How much longer does the program need?” the intricate metal asked man asked Esau, with his eyes completely trained on Elka and the rapid and rise and fall of her chest.

“Eight minutes but they cut the fiber, cells working,” Esau said as he watched the progress of the computer program weave its way into the monetary network.

She flinched when she heard his voice call again to the man that had until not too long ago, shining shoes.

“Time to go mobile,” sounded the masked man’s musically toned voice as he closed a large hand around her upper arm. From the closeness of his proximity, his voice caused her stomach to clench and her mouth went dry.

The next few moments were a blur for Elka, she was startled back to reality by the feel of his massive hand yank her around by her bicep.

Elka heard the shouting of the masked man’s counterparts and fresh gunfire erupted as she was pulled towards the exit doors of the Exchange.

“Everybody up!” a deep male voice shouted and was followed up by a spray of bullets. Some hit yielding flesh with a meaty smack.

“You two, move.”

Bane paused in front of Dennis and pulled at the red helmet that he was clutching like newborn stock options.

“Thank you,” Bane said in a haunting and melodic tone as he pulled the helmet from Dennis’s sweating hands.

Elka seemed to wake up as the physically imposing man pulled her towards a line of waiting motorcycles.

She began a futile attempt to pull free of his grasp.

He didn’t audibly respond to her feeble attempt at resistance, instead he tightened his grip until he forced a hiss of pain from her lips and yanked her towards the closest bike.

Bane didn’t relinquish his stranglehold on Elka’s arm, even as he swung his leg over the bike and settled on the padded seat. He spared a glance at Elka before he pulled her to perch in front of him.

Her fears were renewed when he started the bike’s engine and began to let it idle as the other men with him gathered the remaining hostages at the exit doors and got on the bikes as they gunned the engines to life.

Outside, SWAT and police milled about and argued about the best approach to the terrorists.

Foley and Blake had their firearms leveled at the Exchange as one of the rooftop snipers squinted and called out. “I’ve got something.”

“Steady….” Foley called.

“Steady.”

The hostages started down the steps of the Exchange and the security chief shouted over the growing Gotham Police Department’s adrenaline buzz.

“Hold your fire, they’ve got hostages.”

In the midst of the shouting, Elka tried to slide out of Bane’s grasp, she almost squealed with victory when the toe of her shoe hit the ground. Her joy was fleeting as Bane wrapped a powerful arm around her and pulled her back until she was flush against his chest. She was forced to shift her body until the smooth, metal gas tank was cool against the inside of her trembling thighs.

As Bane and his men tore through the city on their motorcycles, they dropped their hostages one at a time.

The police force erupted in chaos and officers tried left and right for a clean shot at any and all of the terrorists, while trying desperately to avoid the innocents.

Some of the unlucky guys and gals landed poorly and Gotham’s emergency room had a slew of broken wrists and ankles to grit-filled road rash.

The original objective had been to take temporary hostages in order to ensure a safe escape from the Exchange.

As Bane urged the bike’s speedometer higher, Elka squeezed her eyes shut.

Bane kept his grip on her strong and unyielding, through the razor thin vents of his mask, he could detect the sensual aroma of a high-end parfum, sold only in overpriced blue glass bottles.

The fragrance held the sweet and citrus undertones of rosehips and bergamot.

Bane inhaled a lungful of the subtle fragrance as he continued to maneuver the motorcycle through the city.

As he steered them further from the Exchange, Elka began to fall still under her body’s shock response.

“Where are you taking me?”

Bane was genuinely surprised when Elka’s voice sounded above the wind rushing past them. He responded immediately and without delay as soon as her last spoken syllable had tumbled from her lips.

His single word response caused her vocal cords to temporarily cease to function.

“Home.”

[justcallmehermione]

Let me update ya ;)

Story: Small Bump  Rating: M for some delicious smut Pairings: Linzin, Tokka (implied), and Kataang

FF.net

AO3

Chapter 12: The Beifong Estate

“I wish you guys could stay a little longer,” Kya sighed as she gave the couple another big hug.

“I agree,” Sokka adds, throwing his arms around the trio, “I’m going to miss my meat eating buddy!” Everyone laughed at his new nickname for Lin. Now that she was eating for two, Lin sometimes felt like she was always hungry and always had room for more food on her plate. Kya had chided her about overeating not being healthy for her or the baby, but she dismissed her remarks. Tenzin knew Lin had plenty of opportunities to burn off the extra calories in the sparring yard as well as their bed.

“Make sure to tell me when you’re close to your due date, and where you are so I can be there to meet the little one,” Kya reminded Lin.

“I will, don’t worry,” she agreed.

“Don’t worry about letting me know, I’ll be intercepting Kya’s mail so I can make it there first,” Sokka jokes.

“We’ll see you in a couple months,” Tenzin stated. He waved as he mounted Oogi, Lin following him closely.

“Yip yip,” Tenzin commanded. Oogi took to the sky, headed north. The couple waved at their relatives until they were high in the sky.

The newlyweds had decided to head to the Beifong Estate in Gaoling. Lin’s grandparents wanted to spend some time with them before the baby arrived, probably so they can throw some kind of party in her honor. The Beifongs not only enjoyed showing others their wealth, but also their connections and what better connection than their granddaughter having the Avatar’s grandchild? Tenzin was a little apprehensive about going there. He knew that Lin loved her grandparents and had some fond childhood memories with them, but he also knew that sometimes their propriety could get on Lin’s nerves. Lin had been in such high spirits after their make up and he didn’t want her to go down any more dark paths.

“Yuan for your thoughts?” Lin inquired, noticing the look on her husband’s face.

“Nothing important,” he assured her, “Just looking forward to continuing our honeymoon adventure.” He smiled at her. She smiled back and leaned into him to plant a kiss on his lips.

“Yes, I like our little honeymoon adventures. Especially the time we spend in bed together,” she purred, sliding her hand to rest on Tenzin’s inner thigh.

“Please behave,” he said while clearing his throat, “You know I don’t want to give Oogi the oogies while we travel.”

Lin laughed at her husband. “Fine,” she acquiesced, “I’ll behave until we have a little privacy.”

After an entire day of traveling, wrapped in a couple furs to keep the chill, winter air out, the couple finally arrived in Gaoling. They landed in the gardens in the back of the Beifong Estate, where the lanterns were starting to be lit as twilight started. Tenzin and Lin were greeted by a butler and were escorted into the manor house as another servant saw that Oogi was taken care of in the stables. Tenzin and Lin were led to the main parlor where Lao and Poppy were enjoying some after-dinner drinks.

“Master Tenzin and Mistress Lin have arrived,” the butler announced as they entered the room. Lao and Poppy set down their drinks and rose to greet their guests.

“Lin, you look absolutely radiant!” her grandmother proclaimed. She approached the pregnant woman and gave her a kiss on each cheek.

“It’s so good to see you again,” Lin greeted back.

“Tenzin, it’s a pleasure as always,” Lao greeted, bowing to him.

“Likewise,” Tenzin replied, returning the bow.

“Are you hungry? We can have some leftovers brought in here. I requested that they be saved a little later than usual,” Poppy explained.

“Yes, please,” Lin replied politely, resting a hand on her baby bump. Now that she was in her second trimester, her belly seemed to grow a little more everyday. Tenzin thought she looked beautiful and told her as much every chance he could, but he knew she was starting to doubt him since her feet were slowly disappearing from under her.

“Thank you for allowing us to visit,” Tenzin said.

“Oh, please! You’re always welcome here!” Lao told him.

“Yes, we miss Lin visiting us regularly now that she’s a grown, married woman,” Poppy agreed.

“I miss our visits, too,” Lin shared.

“Come sit, let’s catch up while we wait for your food. I’d love to hear about all your latest adventures,” Poppy directed the couple to one of the sofas in the parlor. Lao and Poppy sat on the sofa across from them, picking up their drinks from earlier. Tenzin and Lin shared stories from their recent travels. Lin updated them on how she was feeling during the pregnancy. Tenzin knew that Lao and Poppy did not always approve of Toph and her life choices, but he was glad that they were able to reconcile and that Lin was able to have more people in her life who loved and supported her. The food arrived and the newlyweds were able to refuel after the journey north while Lao and Poppy updated them on the goings-on of the Earth Kingdom nobility and the work Lao’s company had been doing.

After a little anecdote about a recent tea party Poppy had been to she started to explain, “Oh, that reminds me! Lin, I know you’re not fond of high society get-togethers, but I just could not resist…” Tenzin put a hand on the small of Lin’s back, reminding her that he was here for her and hoping she found the gesture relaxing as they waited for Poppy to reveal a surprise.

“What is it, Grandmother?” Lin invited her to continue.

“Well, since this is your first baby and you’ll need some things to help take care of him or her, I thought it might be fun to throw you a tea party. When you announced your pregnancy, you know that the news spread fast and all my friends started asking if there’d be a celebration for you. Then you wrote asking if you could stay here for a bit and I just couldn’t help myself,” Poppy finished explaining.

“Your grandmother will be hosting the party in your honor at the beginning of next week,” Lao added.

“Yes, and I invited your sister, mother, and mother-in-law to it as well!” Poppy exclaimed.

Lin smiled a little uneasily, “That’s great. I’m looking forward to it.” Tenzin started rubbing small circles on Lin’s back trying to reassure her. He prayed to the spirits that Lin would remain calm and on good terms with him and her grandparents, despite another party with her in the spotlight.

Later that evening, Tenzin was lying in bed as Lin was finishing her nightly hygiene routine. He was debating whether or not to bring up how she was feeling about the party. He really didn’t want to upset her anymore, but he also wanted her to know that he was there for her. Lin finished up in the washroom and flopped onto the bed next to him with a deep sigh.

Well, it’s now or never, he thought before he began, “Anything you’d like to discuss?”

Lin sighed and replied, “I’m not sure if I’m ready for another party quite yet.”

“Well, you still have a few days before it. We can always run away in the meantime,” he offered with a cheesy smile on his face.

She turned and smiled up at her husband, “I might take you up on that offer.”

“Hey, it might not be so bad. It’ll be nice to see our moms again. And your sister will be here to help take the edge off. You two could always have a Beifong sparring match and tear some rocks up beforehand,” he suggested.

“That’s not a bad idea, airhead,” Lin told her husband while she snuggled closer to him, closing her eyes. Tenzin held Lin close as they drifted to sleep, looking forward to enjoying his time with his wife in Gaoling.

The week flew by and before they knew it it was time for the Tea Party. Poppy had invited nobles from all across the Earth Kingdom as well as some prominent individuals from the  other nations and the United Republic. Toph, Katara, and Suyin had arrived a few days after Tenzin and Lin, and the newlyweds had enjoyed catching up with them while also preparing for  the big event.

Katara, Toph, Suyin, and Lin were finishing up getting ready when Tenzin knocked on the door.  Katara was helping Lin with her hairstyle while Suyin was doing Toph’s makeup.

“Well, don’t you all look stunning?” Tenzin remarked as he entered the room. All the women were wearing beautiful gowns that seemed to match the colors of their eyes: Katara’s dress a bright, icy blue, Toph’s a pale mint, Su’s and Lin’s an olive color. Their hair was all done  in more formal styles and they were all wearing more makeup than usual.  Katara finished Lin's hair, so Lin got up to greet Tenzin. Tenzin’s mouth hung open slightly when he saw his wife’s figure. Her dress was floor-length with long sleeves and a high waisted belt that seemed to accentuate her now-protruding stomach. Half of her hair had been pulled back into intricate plaits that met in the back of her head  while the rest of her hair was left in loose tendrils that flowed past her shoulders.

“Lin, you’re absolutely gorgeous,” Tenzin whispered as his wife embraced him. He pecked her cheek very carefully, trying not to mess up her make-up.

Lin flushed at the romantic gesture and words and whispered, “Thanks, Tez.” Tenzin could not believe how lucky he was to have such a beautiful wife carrying his future child.

“All right that's enough from the two love birds,” Toph interrupted, “Let's start making our way to the party before my mother has a fit because we are late.”

The group made their way to the grand staircase that led to the main foyer. As they approached the stairs, Tenzin offered his arm to his wife to help her down the stairs. He took advantage of their closeness to whisper in his wife's ear, “Let me know if you need a little break from the party my love. I know a private place where we can spend some time alone.”

Lin elbowed his side gently in response and scolded, “Will you behave? This is not the time to make such suggestions to your pregnant wife.”

“On the contrary, anytime is an appropriate time to show my beautiful wife how much I love and adore her. Not to mention, I do love pleasing you any chance I get.”  He ended his line with a wink and pulled back a little since they were about to enter the room Poppy had set up for the Tea Party.

“Lin! You are absolutely glowing!” Poppy proclaimed when she entered the room. Tenzin  could sense his wife tense a little when most of the heads in the room turned in her direction. It wasn't a very large nor a very crowded room, especially compared to the events the couple had attended in the past, but there were still probably at least 50 or so people at about a dozen tables scattered throughout the room. At the center of each table was a beautiful glass vase with lovely flowers that included peonies in a soft blush color, baby blue carnations, and white daisies, all lined with a rim of baby’s breath. How fitting, Tenzin thought to himself, putting baby's breath in a flower arrangement at a tea party for a pregnant woman.

“Hello everyone,” Lin greeted her guests with an elegant wave, “Tenzin and I are so very glad you could come celebrate such a happy time with us.”  Tenzin gave the crowd a wave as well and smiled at their guests. He glanced over in Poppy's direction and saw her nod of approval at their good hosting manners.

“Come and join us,” Poppy invited the new arrivals and guests of honor. Once they were all seated at the same table, Poppy gave the orders to start the tea ceremony. Tenzin watched as his wife focused on taking small bites of her food and small sips of her tea to appear like the proper lady her grandmother wanted her to be. He knew she would rather have heartier food options since the pregnancy seemed to make her ravenous, but he also knew she wanted to make her grandmother proud and not cause any scenes.

After most of the food and tea had been consumed, Poppy guided her granddaughter   and her husband to a pair of chairs that were in the front of the room, facing the crowd.  Poppy  cleared her throat and waited for everyone to quiet down and face her.

“I wanted to take the opportunity to thank you all for coming again. I hope you enjoyed our hospitality. I would now like to invite anyone who wishes to offer well wishes to the expecting couple to come up and do so at this time,” Poppy announced.  She bowed to the crowd  and returned to her seat at the table. Tenzin glanced at his wife and saw she was smiling, but was positive it was an uneasy smile. He reached over and grabbed her hand in reassurance. Lin glanced at him quickly and she squeezed his hand back in thanks. The two sat with their hands together while the guests came up to offer small gifts for the baby and them, as well as to offer well wishes for the baby and mother to have good health. Not a single person made a reference to airbending the entire time and Tenzin was relieved for himself and his wife.

As the line of guests was nearing the end, a gentleman dressed in Fire Nation robes approached them and bowed. “Masters Tenzin and Beifong, it is an absolute honor to be here celebrating your new bundle of joy. I have been given the privilege of being the official envoy for the Fire Lord and her Royal Highness the Crown Princess. They regret not being able to come, but wish to pass along their love.”

“How very kind of the Fire Nation to send such a wonderful envoy with such kind and moving words,” Tenzin told the man.

“It is sad that Princess Izumi could not be here on this special occasion, but I completely understand given her current circumstances,” Lin added.

“Yes,”  the man agreed, “We are very excited about the birth of the next heir. The princess also wanted me to give you this.”  The man offered Lin a letter with the Royal Seal of the Fire Nation. Lin and Tenzin thanked the man for coming. Lin handed Tenzin the letter which he safely tucked into his breast pocket to read after the party had ended.

After the guests had all left and the family were enjoying some after dinner drinks in the  parlor,  Tenzin took the letter out of his pocket and handed it to Lin. She tore it open eagerly  and scanned the letter quickly.

“What does it say?” Suyin asked her sister.

“Who was it from?” Toph asked her daughter.

Lin smiled at them all and explained, “It is a letter from Izumi. She says that the Royal Physician believes her baby will be here within the next fortnight. She wants me there to be there for her when the baby comes.”

“Oh how exciting!” Katara exclaimed, “It's so funny to think our kids are starting to have babies of their own.”

“You've got that right, Sugar Queen,” Toph added, “I know I sure don't feel old enough to be a grandma quite yet.”

Poppy agreed and added, “Quite right, dear. I don't think I'm old enough to be a great-grandmother!” All of the older women laughed at their comments.

“I wish I could join you guys,” Su sighed, “but I agreed to help a group of students from Ba Sing Se University do some exploring in the Si Wong Desert. They want to study the sandbenders and how their culture has evolved in such an arid place.”

“We promise to send your regrets along,” Tenzin comforted her.

“Well, I suppose this means you all will be leaving us shortly,” Lao stated with a hint of sadness in his voice.

“Yes, but we should all try to get together like this again soon,” Lin offered, trying to make her grandfather feel better.

“That would be lovely, Lin,” he agreed.

By the end of the week Katara, Toph, and Suyin had left Gaoling to return to their duties elsewhere. Lin and Tenzin were now preparing to depart as well so they could join Izumi in the Fire Nation. The young couple bid the Beifongs farewell and promised to return to spend more time with them as soon as they were able.

A/N: I meant it when I said I want to finish this fic before 2020 is over.  I am trying to write as much as I can now because in exactly one week I will be returning to work as a teacher in the middle of a global pandemic. I am not looking forward to going back in person with my students so I'm trying to avoid singing about it by focusing on things that make me happy like this fic and this ship. How lucky for all you lovely readers :)  as always feel free to leave comments and Kudos because they definitely help motivate me!

[holdthosebees]

Memento Mori

A/N: Here we are again! Reposted w/out the horrifically embarrassing typo, which I’m sure y’all would have forgotten about if I hadn’t just mentioned it. Shoutout to @screechfoxes for reminding me! Anyway I’m still thinking about Mike Crew/Oliver Banks, and I will be until I die. Fic is rated M for mild, nonexplicit sexual content and canonical character death. 

It’s storming on the day that Oliver meets Michael Crew, which feels appropriate enough. Later, Oliver jokes that, if Mike were more of a drama queen, he’d think he’d done it on purpose: the lashing rain, the heavy wind, the crack and roll of thunder shivering through the air. A summer storm, out of season. It’s driven away most of Oliver’s usual customers, the alternative kids and the middle aged hippies; he’s rearranging a display of cat-themed tarot cards for the fifth time for want of something better to do when the bell above the door rings.

The vertigo is immediate. Oliver raises his eyebrows as his stomach lurches; it had been a while since something impacted him like this. Ever since point Nemo, physical sensation has been... not numb, but dulled, certainly. Even the anxiety, once a constant companion, doesn’t leave him nauseous the way it used to. Then he registers the smell of ozone, and he sighs.

The man in the doorway is short and narrow, with a friendly, square face and sandy brown hair dripping rainwater onto his forehead. He’s dressed down for the weather, no raincoat or umbrella, and above the collar of his plain blue button-down Oliver can see a branching white scar.

“Good afternoon,” Oliver says, to be polite. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Oh, I’m just browsing,” the man says. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers, as if to indicate how uninterested he is in touching anything. “I’ll try not to drip on your stuff.”

“That’s very thoughtful,” Oliver says. Then, because he feels a little silly, playing retail associate with a fellow monster, “Sorry--you’re Michael Crew, right?”

“Guilty as charged,” Michael says, with a quirk of a smile. “But please, call me Mike. Who was it that told you about me? Simon? Jude?” He looks at Oliver’s expression, and laughs. “Figures it would be Jude. She’s such a gossip, that one.”

“I suppose,” Oliver says. His conversation with Jude hadn’t been long, but it had left an impression. He’d felt rather like she was trying to recruit him into some sort of alliance, and when he hadn’t been receptive, her demeanor had been... unpleasant. She’d mentioned Michael--Mike--as something of a casual acquaintance, and so he’d expected him to be somewhat like her: so full of gleeful malice that it oozed out the edges.

“Anyway. I figured I’d drop by, see the man who hijacked Harriet’s plans for Point Nemo.” Mike punctuates this with by giving Oliver a slow once-over, up and down. Oliver smiles reflexively. It’s hard to tell whether he’s being threatened or checked out; neither option is as daunting as it might have been, once, but if Mike is planning on starting something he’d rather they not do it in his shop.

“Oh,” Oliver says, “sorry about that. I wasn’t exactly thinking much, at the time.”

“Don’t worry about it. Sea water under the bridge.” Mike says, and smiles, taking a hand out of his pocket to wave the matter away. He has a nice smile, Oliver thinks. Not too wide, not the tooth-baring threat that most of the avatars he’d met seemed fond of. Nice. “To be honest, I don’t have much to do with what the Fairchild’s are up to, these days. I don’t really bother with the macro. Yes, I know, ironic.”

“Seems very reasonable,” Oliver says.

“I thought you’d approve. Your lot doesn’t bother with that sort of thing, right?  Everyone dies, after all.” His smile quirks up at the corner; a shared joke between two dead men.

“Memento mori,” Oliver says. He’s beginning to suspect that he actually is being chatted up, a suspicion confirmed when Mike asks him out for a pint a few minutes later. He considers saying no, citing the shop: it’s too early in the day to close up, after all. But there aren’t any customers coming, and Mike’s cute enough, and it’s not like he has many options. And it’s been a very, very long time.

They talk shop a bit over drinks--”Most people just don’t understand how big eternity actually is,” Mike says, all quiet intensity, and Oliver finds himself nodding along--and then, tentative, like he’s actually nervous, Mike asks Oliver over to his flat.

Oliver hesitates. He hasn’t gotten mixed up in any of the inter-avatar politics; he’s had no need to, and an entanglement just seemed like a pointless bit of risk. Besides, he’s always found the delight in death and pain paradoxically distasteful. He loves it, worships it, recognizes it as the truth that underwrites the universe; that doesn’t mean he has to enjoy it.  

But Mike seems reasonable enough, and he’s handsome in an anemic sort of way. And there’s--something, in his eyes, the tilt of his jaw, an echo of defiant exhaustion, a coldness that Oliver recognizes. He is fairly cold himself, after all.

Going to bed with Michael Crew is--well, it would be overwhelming, if Oliver were capable of being overwhelmed. Touching his skin is vertigo, is free fall, the first crack of thunder when a storm breaks. Oliver licks the scar on his chest and tastes ozone. He can only imagine what Mike feels, touching him. They aren’t human, anymore; their bodies are vessels for something monstrous and huge, beautiful in their horror; but they can still sweat, and bite, and gasp so gently at the shock of sudden pleasure. Afterwards, Oliver lays his head on Mike’s chest and is relieved when he doesn’t feel a heartbeat.

It becomes almost a regular thing. They don’t date. They don’t have a relationship. The part of themselves that could be given to another person was already dedicated to something else; Mike will never look at anyone the way he looks up at the night sky, and Oliver will never feel as sadly tender about anything as he does when he sees the soon-to-be-dead walk past. The secret that Mike keeps is that the world is very big; the secret Oliver keeps is that your experience of it will be small. The space they make fits somewhere in-between.

The truce that they keep between them is simple. Mike comes by the store every few months or so. They make smalltalk, discuss the state of the powers, have sex sometimes. It’s nice. Mike, it turns out, is just as much of a homebody as Oliver; he lets the silences between them stretch on, doesn’t both texting ahead, doesn’t make demands of Oliver’s time. This is, of course, ideal. It is hard to care about investing in another person when you keep in the center of your heart and in your bones the knowledge that they, too, will die.

But still. It’s nice. One evening Mike swings by the store just before closing, and Oliver looks at his grey eyes and narrow shoulders and feels--something. It isn’t joy, and it isn’t exactly lust, and it’s certainly not love--Oliver does remember what it was like to be in love, although the memory feels like a reflection in water, murky and warped and far away. But something unclenches, somewhere in his chest, and he smiles without thinking when he says hello.

“Hey,” Mike says. His hair is a mess, sticking up in all kinds of windblown directions. It suits him. “I brought you something.”

“Oh?” Oliver says. Mike isn’t the gift-giving type; they aren’t exactly in a gift-giving business. Mike nods, rooting through the pockets of his faded grey trousers. What he pulls out looks at first like a lump of pale rock, but Oliver can feel the cold emanating from it, familiar and soft. He holds out his hand, and Mike presses the lump into it.

A chunk of bone, worn smooth, the pockmarks of its structure exposed all along one side. A piece from the spine of a sea creature long extinct. Oliver can feel the layers of dead things condensed on the ocean floor, the sediment of thousands of years of endings. It was, not the last of its species, but second to last. With it died the last chance they had.

When he closes his eyes, he sees the dark ocean stretching out forever.

“Thank you,” he says. He rolls the bone back and forth, savoring it. “It’s--very nice.”  

“You’re welcome,” Mike says. He sounds uneasy. He puts his hands back in his pockets, shoulders hunched. He doesn’t seem self conscious, not exactly, but--this isn’t something that they do, and they both know it. Still, Oliver smiles as he tucks the bone into the pocket of his work slacks, and after a moment, Michael relaxes again.

“Drop by my place, yeah?” he says. “When you’re done closing?”

Oliver doesn’t ask why he doesn’t want to linger. When Mike opens the shop door the is a rush of wind strong enough to tug at the covers of the paperbacks on display. Then the door shuts and the bell rings, and Oliver is left in stillness.

He rings up his last customer, a middle-aged woman buying a crystal pyramid and a book on chakra manipulation. There is a black tendril wrapped around her middle, and Oliver allows himself a moment to feel the soft, cold whisper of his god. It feels good. He knows, intellectually, that he might have felt guilty about that, once.

He closes up, and goes to Mike’s flat. Mike has a cup of tea and some takeaway already waiting for him. While they eat Mike tells him, in dreamy snippets, about his trip to the ocean. The sea, he said, that was big, but the sky--the perfect black, stretching on forever, unmarred by light pollution, the incredible, indifferent distance of the stars--that was something else. He closes his eyes while he speaks, savoring the memory. Oliver doesn’t ask what happened to the sailors he was with. He doesn’t have to. All the avatars serve the End, in their own ways.

They go to bed. When Mike removes his shirt Oliver sees a new scar, a patch of raw red skin in the shape of a handprint on his shoulder. Mike’s mouth twists when he notices Oliver looking.

“Had a bit of a disagreement with Jude Perry,” he says, wry. Then he frames Oliver’s face in his hands and kisses him, all sudden intent, and Oliver feels the vertigo again, twisting with arousal in the pit of his stomach. He smiles.

Afterwards, they lie together, Mike’s head on Oliver’s chest, Oliver’s fingers tangled in Mike’s hair. This is another thing they don’t usually do, the cuddling. Mike’s not a cuddly person, just like he’s not a clingy person, or a gift giving person, or--arguably--a person at all. Oliver finds himself remember the last time he did this. Years and years ago. In bed with Graham, who he didn’t let himself think about for so long that it became an unconscious habit to repress.

But his memories are hazy and confused, another life, full of feelings that no longer fit in his body. And there are details that he can’t line up: what color was Graham’s hair? His eyes? It’s all fading away, now, tangling and strange, like an old movie in a foreign language. Oliver gives up. He closes his eyes and lets himself drift, listening to the quiet rush of Mike’s breathing.

He dreams. In his dreams he is in the middle of the ocean, water like black glass stretching out in all directions. Forever. And above it the sky, the black and endless sky, full of cold and distant stars.

The water rolls. A huge wave, a wall: the back of some great creature, larger than a ship, than a whale, its bulk enough to change the entire landscape without breaking the surface. Oliver sees miles of barnacle-ridden skin, a single sunken eye. And around it, familiar as breathing: the tendrils of death, black and fleshy, like the arms of a kraken drawing it down. The behemoth groans, and the world shakes.

Oliver wakes up. At first he thinks he is still sleeping: he smells salt, and can feel the press of one of the death-tendrils against his hand, fleshy and cold. But no. He is awake, in Mike Crew’s flat. The smell is Mike’s hair; he hasn’t been able to wash the sea off of him, yet. And the touch--

There is a tendril around Mike’s neck.

There is nothing else to do. Oliver presses his mouth to the top of Mike’s head, closes his eyes. Then he slides carefully out of bed and begins to dress. Mike won’t wonder why he left. He won’t notice anything amiss, not until tomorrow, maybe, or the day after that. However many days it takes. Oliver pulls on his trousers and feels the lump of bone press against his hip. He does up the buttons on his shirt, pulls on his coat. It is raining. A soft, light rain, streaking down the window in the grey dawn.

He stops at the doorway, looks back at Mike’s small frame curled up under the comforter. One hand grasping at the pillow.

“Rest well,” Oliver whispers. Then he turns, and closes the door behind him.

[itsomgitsgreenblogging]

The Anchor

So I literally wrote this in one day because I was having a lot of feelings about last night's episode and Fjord and Jester's relationship and how complicated and nuanced their relationship is in general.

This is not written to be particularly shippy, however, feel free to read into it as you like. I leave it purposefully open ended in that regard because, well, their relationship is open ended right now. I am just more interested in these characters and the way their different life philosophies interact.

Enjoy!

Preview:

The days in the north seemed to end much faster than those in the Menagerie Coast. The further that Fjord and Jester traveled the keener he felt that to be true. The air lacked that certain sumptuousness that it did along the coast where it was full of the sea, humidity, and a warmth that bled from the ground and swelled until everything shimmered like it was made of something costly. Even in the dregs of summer that bled into fall, the season felt austere. Fjord had known all his life that the Dwendalian Empire was a strict place, but even the rolling hills and forest lacked a sort of color that he was used to. It reminded Fjord of the washed out grey of a sea at storm, when there was barely any difference between frothy waves and storm clouds on the horizon. 

He was sure that Jester felt it too, though she tended to attempt to fill their days with color in her own dizzying and breathless sort of way. Jester loved to talk but hated conversations, and that was why they had gotten along so swimmingly from the first moment they met. Fjord offered none of himself that he couldn’t spare, and Jester was an open book whose text needed to be decoded by someone who had a degree, and so they could spend all day circling a point like they were circling a drain. Fjord had never met anyone else in his life who knew how to dance over what they meant to say as deftly as he did before. He wondered where she had learned those valuable lessons, but didn’t pry. It was mostly for his sake because he was supposed to be using her. He had thought she had carried herself like someone who had money and such a person would be useful to travel with, and she did have money...at one point. Not any longer. It was just another one of those truths that both of them acknowledged but neither of them addressed outright. Eventually though, one of them had to crack open and offer the olive branch.  For both of their sakes, Jester seemed to steel herself and bridge that divide. 

“I’m sorry Fjord,” she murmured as she curled tighter at the base of the tree, offering that branch to him though she sounded like she loathed every second of it, like a child forced to pull a baby tooth before it was ready to fall on its own. Fjord let his eyes drift over to her for a moment, as he sat rod straight against the bark. Her hair wreathed her hair and dark blue curls like a crown and she didn’t move to fix it as she flopped around like a dying fish. “I shouldn’t have spent all that money.”

“It’s alright,” Fjord promised her as he gazed up into the boughs of the tree. A hawthorn tree contains multitudes, blossoming with beautiful flowers and sharp thorns, it was a song that an old sailor had crooned between puffing at a pennywhistle. It was too bad it was out of season, Fjord thought, he would have liked to see a hawthorn bloom for the first time in his life. His gaze drifted away and then settled beyond the wide dark plains of the empire. “We’ll figure it all out.” 

“You always say that,” Jester grumbled, and Fjord could hear a pout in her voice as clear as day, see her violet-flushed cheeks and her furrowed brow. He felt a smile pull at his lips and the scars that lined the inside of his mouth from nail files and dislodged bones. It was typical, that even in these small moments that were happy, he still had to remember those things he wished he could have left behind.  

“Have I been wrong yet?” Fjord asked, nudging her with the toe of his boot. Jester turned over like a roly-poly and stuck her tongue out properly at him. Fjord released a hearty laugh in return that felt far more natural. Laughter has been a frequent friend since he had met Jester, and he liked that most of the time he meant it with her. Even if he didn’t like to share himself, he disliked being dishonest. Lying by omission hurt much less. 

“But I am sorry,” Jester admitted, her eyes wood-violets cast in shadows. Her blanket was wrapped up to her chin as she did nothing to extricate herself out of her cocoon. “If I had the money we could have traveled with the caravan.”

“My old captain once told me that if we live from our mistakes we ought to learn from them,” Fjord told her quietly, twining his fingers in the grass to anchor him. He pulled at it half-heartedly, feeling the dirt swell and contract with his gentle tugs.  

“I won’t make that mistake again, the horse didn’t even appreciate her clothing!” Jester huffed. “I promise Fjord, when we find my dad it’ll all get figured out. We’ll be able to get new horses and find our way to that academy.” 

“Get some sleep so we can switch,” Fjord told her, amused exasperation creeping into his voice. Jester rolled back over and curled up again, breath even though she was clearly not asleep. Fjord settled in again, against the trunk of that old tree. There was a promise in the north, like the promise of a shooting star. It was something ephemeral and hopeful that conflicted with that dark fear that roiled in his guts like churning black ocean water. If he could get there, perhaps he could find out what had seeped into his bones on that dark night and hadn’t let go.

Fjord shook his head, attempting to shake out those thoughts from his mind. Things were easier when Jester was awake for many reasons, but that was the main one. It was hard to focus on the past when she was dragging him along to the beat of her own drum, but as soon as he was alone all he could do was stew in those feelings that he had long wished to forget. Jester was kind and good and saw those good things in Fjord that Fjord knew that only existed like flashes of lightning, but Fjord knew he could have been better. He could have convinced that caravan leader who had turned them away, he could have done what he had needed to so that they would be safe and comfortable in a world that wasn’t nice to either of their kind. 

Vandren had always been able to make people listen to him. Some people were just like that, they could command a room or a group of men with the ease of breathing. No one had ever listened to Fjord. He had practiced the art of disappearing until he was barely made of anything more than sea mist that dissipated in the morning sun. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t drown, Fjord had thought once. Fjord was nothing, as weightless as driftwood broken off from a whole and eroded until he was battered beyond repair. Though he knew that it wasn’t that. His lungs had filled with water just the same as any man. The miracle that had saved him and flung him to shore just as carelessly, intertwined with him and grew in him...deep in his heart he knew it wasn’t a miracle at all. Miracles don't happen to children tossed aside as easily as a stone. There would be a price to pay soon enough, he just hoped he would find someone who could help him before that. 

If he could be more like Vandren...be the type of man that Vandren would trust, then maybe Fjord could make sense of the outside world. Jester deserved a friend like that at least, Fjord thought with a wince. Not whoever this pushover was. When someone joined with you in friendship there was a responsibility shared...a responsibility to be actively working towards the common good. He would take responsibility, Fjord decided. He would be the type of person that people could rely on, and if he had to discard that other person...well, there wasn’t much of him that he hadn’t discarded before to suit the needs of those who needed him. 

This would be no different, but far more important. 

_____

He pressed the breath in his lungs into her mouth as the weight of the ocean and all of his horrible decisions bore down on them with teeth and tendrils and hungry yellow eyes. Live, Fjord begged her. Live. 

It wasn’t a kiss, Fjord thought pressed against the wall of a captain’s quarter later as Avantika’s fingers danced across his skin. Kisses were things freely given from the heart. Fjord had nothing left in him to save. It was just easier to think of that, of anything else, besides the things that were as plain as the nose on his face. It should have been her choice, but it hadn’t been. So it wasn’t a kiss. It was merely a desperate attempt to save someone else beside himself...to save someone deserving for once in his life. Somehow Fjord was always failing at the simplest of tasks. 

And then he was saved. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Fjord was the worst kind of thief, the kind that took other’s precious things and pretended they were his own and that he was worthy and deserved them. But the goddess looked upon him, and told him he was worthy and that he did deserve to be saved. He supposed he just had to figure out what She saw in him that he didn’t.

Fjord would make it right. He had to. For all of their sakes, to deserve their trust and their love. Patched together Fjord and driftwood Fjord and empty Fjord wouldn’t cut it. He would be a Fjord that he could be proud of, that was his promise.  

_________

Fjord never understood how such big consequences could be decided by such insignificant moments. He could trace a million split second decisions that had somehow led him here. And yet all of them seemed small compared to the moment he had hesitated and the moment that Jester had pushed forward into the hag’s hut and left them all behind. Beau released a strangled noise, her face still sallow. Yasha’s face had gone as hard as stone. Nott looked as if she wished she could sink into the center of the earth. 

 He was supposed to be different now, Fjord thought helplessly. He was different. He was no longer cutting himself apart to please others. He had been given a second chance by a fateful meeting, and had taken it. He was supposed to be stronger. He was supposed to protect them all. But instead it was Jester walking in alone, and then rushing out like the hounds of the nine hells were nipping at her feet. 

Jester-Jester! Are you sure? Fjord had asked, begged as she came running out once more. There was panic under her smile that stretched across his features, magic pulsing under her skin and filling the air in a harried rhythm. Her veins were full of her god’s favor, that Fjord knew. She made them all shimmer like the diamond dust she had scattered across her skin, but never for her own sake it was always for someone else’s. It was that lack of care that had Fjord so deeply disturbed. There wasn’t much that Fjord couldn’t believe she wouldn’t trade away for them. She would trade her tongue for a person's life as he was tossed about in a storm, regardless of if that man deserved it or not. She would give beautiful scales for feet if that meant she could dance with her friends, regardless of if needles pierced her skin every step.  

Everything’s fine, she reassured, her voice carrying a half-lullaby as if she was trying to soothe not only herself but the rest of them who were teetering between the edge of despair and terror. There was a lock of hair twisted around her horn that she didn’t fix, her tail lashed nervously about her legs, her smile was so tight he was afraid it would snap her lips. Fjord helped her gather their traumatized friends up and set them on course again. 

Is it fine? Fjord wanted to beg her. Are you fine? I thought I was going to lose you all to a decision we couldn’t make together again. I was terrified. I was scared, I am always so scared. Are you scared? If you are scared then couldn’t we all be scared together? We are together, but I feel alone. Do you feel alone sometimes, Jester? Is that how you can face a creature like that alone and live to tell the tale? 

But Fjord’s throat was too slick (with sea water, no something thicker, blood, maybe the sea serpent had taken his tongue this time) and no words could escape. Neither of them talked, because that’s what they did. How could one talk when silence was the price you paid for your wishes? 

__________

In the chest there were two sets of silk clothing, gingerly folded and placed alongside a child’s doll that was damp to the touch. Amongst those items, there was a silver pocket watch. On the back of the pocket-watch Fjord caught a glimpse of initials as she turned it. B. V. 

Big Viridian, Fjord thought, feeling a chuckle attempting to escape his throat as he thought on the woman who had taken them through the village of Rumblecusp. Veth turned the watch over in her hands, pulling out a small kit of tools and began to fiddle with it in an attempt to make it work. She grumbled as she did. That was Veth to a tee, Fjord thought idly amused, fixing something so small in such a huge clusterfuck of a situation. She gave up with a sigh, and Fjord watched as Jester reached across and fluttered her fingers. A mist of green and blue caught on the silver edge, and Fjord heard the ticking of the watch. 

“You aren’t planning on keeping that are you?” Fjord asked Jester as she cupped it in her hands. 

“Keeping what?” 

“The pocket-watch,” Fjord clarified. 

The doll’s leg was wet with mildew, and it had raggedy string hair. It had been a human perhaps, a girl doll of some sort. Fjord wondered if the little girl was still on the island, if she had grown up here or if she had washed up on shore like what felt like a lifetime ago and just kept the doll as some kind of momento. Did the clothes belong to her parents? To her? To someone important that she could never replace? What was the difference between these villagers in him? The only one he could think of was that he had just been lucky in the place he had landed. 

Or maybe not, Fjord thought irritated as Jester explained her plan of interrogating the villagers to find B.V.  

“What if they do remember? What if it’s important to them? What if they do remember and they don’t want to speak up for...I don’t know fear of retribution or being outed or something. We shouldn’t take it,” Fjord tried to explain the taste of a cold blade on the tip of his tongue, watching Jester’s face draw in like storm clouds in a grey sky. 

“What if someone hears the ticking sound that follows us everywhere?” Caduceus added from where he was currently inspecting the box itself. Fjord found himself grateful to him for the millionth time since knowing him. Caduceus was steady at the wheel in a way that Fjord found himself lacking. Deep breaths, Cad had advised during one meditation. She can only hear you when you are breathing. 

“Yeah, we know the initials we can put it back. It’ll be a nice treat to open a box and find it working,” Fjord attempted to explain to Jester, but she drew even further away from him.   

“It was pretty dusty, but sure. Put it back, Fjord’s feeling honorable,” Jester said with a scoff and a look she shared with Nott as she tossed Nott the watch. Fjord leveled a glare at them both, and realized that he didn’t think he had ever glared at Jester before. He hadn’t liked how callous she had sounded...it made his stomach feel funny. It made him wonder if she was serious about things he had thought she was joking about like letting people blow up in a volcano or forget in a strange mist about her god-who-wasn’t-really-a-god. It made him doubt her...even though she had been the single constant in his life since this craziness had all begun.   

He looked at her that night, with Yasha’s music still ringing...haunting and sad and beautiful in his ears. Jester slept fleetingly and restlessly, turning over in her sleep like she was on the verge of waking. Fjord wished for a moment he could make it stop. When had it happened? When had they drifted apart and become so disconnected? Their goals so misaligned? There were a thousand scattered memories, and yet Fjord couldn’t pinpoint one. 

It’s just stress, a part of Fjord-the analytical one explained. She doesn’t know what her god wants. Hell, her god isn’t even a god. You know that feeling well enough, how it is to attempt to appease something far greater than you that you have no idea how to appease. 

And what if he is disappointed in her? Another part of Fjord, the one terrified of turtles and scary noises in the dark and larger children with grabbing hands that pushed his head under water in buckets cried. We could barely protect any of them, or ourselves, from the wrath of one entity. What will we do if...what can we do? 

They would have to talk, Fjord thought. For once, they would really need to talk. 

He just hoped he didn’t lose her in the attempt to anchor her. 

[lpdwillwrite4coffee]

CHILDREN OF LILITH CHAPTER NINETEEN

Serena was going to kill him. Slowly and painfully. She might not even use her tools to rip out his insides- just her nails, new manicure be damned.

Every time she set out to finish her job, one of Nicholas’ pathetic packs of Newborns was right around the corner already fucking everything up. He was being careless; oblivious to anything other than his own scheming. Typical.

Striding out of the elevator, Serena blew past several human Familiars, none of whom were hers. She’d lost her desire for a pet a while ago, when-

She cut her own thoughts off with a short grunt at the back of her throat.

One of Nicholas’ many secretaries stepped out from behind her desk, moving towards her. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bradley is in with-”

“Does it look like I fucking care?” Serena snarled, fangs jutting against her bottom lip.

Stiletto heels grinding into the carpet, she proceeded to the end of the hall and threw open the door. “What the hell is wrong with you?” She shouted.

Then she noticed the other woman sitting across from Nicholas, sipping from a cup of tea and tossing her dark wavy hair over her shoulder. Her laughter faded at Serena’s entrance, but her warm eyes still danced with the joy from the moment she and Nicholas had been having.

She was beautiful- slender and olive skinned- and she held herself like she was aware and proud of her appearance. Serena immediately hated her.

“Who the hell is this?” Serena asked, motioning to her while glaring at Nicholas.

Leaning back in his seat, Nicholas smirked. “Which question would you like me to answer first? Wait, never mind, I don’t care.” He glanced over at the other woman and winked. “Serena, this is Caroline. She’s a Public Relations adviser for City Hall.”

“How exciting,” Serena deadpanned.

Nicholas continued through her interjection. “She’s also Alexander’s newest acquisition.”

Serena blinked. “What?”

Caroline smiled over the edge of her cup. “You act as if I’m a prize.”

“A woman as beautiful as you is a prize,” Nicholas said, grinning. “One a man like Alexander must have fought very hard to win.”

“He certainly put forth a considerable effort,” Caroline said, finishing her tea. “He even sent over flowers to my office this morning, just because.”

Serena folded her arms over her chest and sneered. “You might want to adjust your definition of ‘considerable effort’.”

Caroline’s lips twitched as she set her cup down on the low side table. “You really weren’t exaggerating, were you Nicholas?”

“And this isn’t even the worst of it,” he said, eyes flicking over to Serena.

Death was too easy for him. Serena was going to split him apart a thousand different ways but leave his heart safely behind his sternum, just so he could suffer in agony for the rest of eternity.

Serena took a step forward, ready to leap over the desk and begin dismembering him, when another voice joined them.

“Caroline?” Alexander stood in the doorway, a thick stack of papers in his hands. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you for lunch,” she answered with a knowing smile. “Nicholas found me wandering the halls and offered me a cup of tea while I waited for you to wrap up your meeting.”

“It was the least I could do,” Nicholas said, eyeing Alexander. His expression was polite but there was a cold edge in his gaze that made even Serena nervous.

Her Sire noticed it as well, given the sudden stiffness in his shoulders. “That was kind of you, Nicholas. Thank you.” There was no hint of gratitude in Alexander’s voice. Looking to Caroline, he said, “Have you finished your visit or should I leave you to entertain Nicholas some more?”

“No, we just finished.” Standing, she flashed a brilliant smile at Nicholas and said, “Thank you again. It was lovely to finally meet some of Alexander’s colleagues.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Nicholas said. “Enjoy your lunch.”

Wrapping a protective arm around Caroline’s waist, Alexander lead her out of the office, but not before staring Nicholas down, irises flashing white.

When the two had disappeared down the corridor, Serena squared her shoulders and faced Nicholas. “What was that about?”

“I was intrigued by the girl,” he said, lounging casually in his chair. “And she smells like honey. I love honey.”

Serena rolled her eyes. “I was talking about the serious round of hate eye-fucking you and Alexander were giving each other. Poor Caroline must have felt left out with all that potent eroticism bouncing over her head.”

Chuckling darkly, Nicholas stood up. “Believe me, I won’t be the one getting fucked in this scenario.”

“What does that mean?”

“Aren’t you tired of following him blindly?” Nicholas asked, walking to his drink cart and reaching for a decanter of scotch.

“I don’t follow anyone blindly,” Serena snapped.

“Sure about that… kitten?”

Her snarling rippled through the air and Nicholas lifted an amused eyebrow.

“Whoops. I forgot only he calls you that.”

“Exactly.” She took a step forward. “So give me a reason not to cut your tongue out.”

“Because I’m looking out for both of us,” Nicholas said, turning with his drink in hand.

Serena frowned. “You’re not questioning anymore, you’ve already decided. You don’t trust him.”

“I don’t trust anyone. Not even myself,” he added with a smirk.

“Does this have anything to do with what you said yesterday?”

Slipping his hand into his pocket, Nicholas leaned back as he took a long pull from his glass. “Things aren’t adding up.”

“Care to explain further?” Serena asked.

“Whether or not it benefits our reputation, don’t you find it a bit reckless of our Sire to allow that girl to continue running through the city, just to be publicly ruined?” Nicholas finished the contents of his glass and turned to pour another. “Do you know what that book called her? ‘The Fire that Overtakes.’”

Serena scowled. “What does that mean?”

“It means she’s a lit cigarette ready to be tossed into a patch of dry grass,” he said. “And Alexander refuses to stamp her out before she causes real damage.”

Unease settled in Serena’s stomach. “What other reason could he have to keep her alive?”

Nicholas’ stare became distant as he absently swirled the liquor in his glass. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

Agitation curled under his skin, causing him to fidget with the rolled sleeves of his button down. Swallowing his drink in one gulp, he slammed the tumbler down on the cart and started towards the door.

Watching him, Serena called, “If you think he has some kind of hidden agenda, then what purpose does Caroline serve?”

Nicholas paused, looking askance at her. “My guess? In two or three years, she’ll be your replacement.”

Unmoving and blind with dread, Serena stared into the space previously occupied by Nicholas until she couldn’t hear his footsteps any longer.

And then she growled.

* * *

“I don’t like this,” Nikki said, staring at her warped reflection in the stainless steel elevator doors.

Sliding a new magazine into his gun, Griffin cocked it before glancing at her. “What? That we’re crashing your doctor’s office or that we didn’t take the stairs?”

It wasn’t just the Underground’s patterns Nikki was discovering, she was discovering the patterns of the people too. And with Griffin, his use of sarcasm was directly proportionate to how tense he was.

Well fine, if he was going to be that way...

“Actually I was talking about how much I don’t like the carpet they put in,” she said, motioning to the floor. “Too much paisley, don’t you think?”

Griffin huffed out a laugh and she narrowed her eyes on the distracting tug at the corner of his mouth.

“I meant this.” She said. “All of this. Going in there, armed to the teeth-”

“I only brought my guns and four knives. I hardly see how that’s ‘armed to the teeth’.”

“He’s a fifty-something neurologist from New Hampshire.”

“Who’s also a Vampire’s Familiar,” Griffin added, lifting an eyebrow at her.

“He’s human.”

“Humans are dangerous too.”

Nikki’s stare was drawn down to the visible edge of his holster strap, like it was emphasizing his point for him.

“Let’s just try not to scare the guy too much okay? It might give him a heart attack.” She turned away with a sigh.

“Fifty’s kinda young for a heart attack,” Griffin muttered, glancing at the LED screen above the door.

Making an aggravated noise at the back of her throat, she started to retort back when she saw his smug grin and the fine wrinkles at the corner of his eye, and lost her words.

That bastard.

Nikki groaned and rolled her eyes, facing forward again. She would not smile back. She would not indulge his impish behavior.

Except that was definitely a grin she saw in her reflection.

Damn it.

The elevator doors separated with a ding and the warm, flirtatious tendrils surrounding them evaporated as they both remembered why they were there to begin with.

“Which way?” Griffin asked, stepping into the lobby.

“Left,” she said, following at his side.

A nurse at reception saw them both and nodded in greeting. “Hi there, how may I-?”

Griffin didn’t break his stride as he spoke. “Doctor Oliver. Where is he?”

“He’s with a patient right now.”

“Where?”

Panic widened the woman’s eyes as she reached for the desk phone. “Sir, you’ll have to wait-”

“Fine, we’ll find him ourselves,” Griffin said as they passed her.

Moving down the corridor, they both started pushing open exam room doors, ignoring the shouts from the nurses behind them. At the end of the hall at the left Nikki spotted the room she was most familiar with- Doctor Oliver’s private office. He had brought her in there after their first appointment to discuss her eligibility for the medical trial he was conducting. At the time the room had felt comforting, but now it reminded her of a steel trap. Jogging ahead, she threw open the door and rushed inside.

Doctor Oliver sat across from a young woman no older than Nikki, with a thin medical file in his hands and wire rimmed bifocals pushed to the tip of his nose. The woman gasped, glancing between Nikki and Griffin and then back at the doctor.

“Miss Anderson,” Doctor Oliver said with wry smile. “I’m sorry, but as you can see I’m with a patient, so if you’ll just wait-”

“Sorry doctor, but I’m not exactly in an accommodating mood,” she cut him off. Looking to the other woman, Nikki jerked her head towards the door. “You should leave.” When she didn’t move Nikki added, “Trust me. You don’t want this guy anywhere near your brain.”

At that, the woman gathered her purse and hurried past them, knocking into the nurse that was entering.

“I’m so sorry doctor, I told them to wait. I’ll call security-”

“No Linda, that’s alright,” Doctor Oliver said, removing his glasses and standing up. “I have business to discuss with Miss Anderson. Shut the door, will you?”

Confusion furrowed the nurse’s brow, but after a moment she did as she was asked and left the three alone in his office.

“So I take it you were expecting us?” Nikki asked.

“Somewhat,” Doctor Oliver said, edging around his desk. “I anticipated some sort of confrontation, but I hadn’t thought you’d bring your own attack dog.” He motioned towards Griffin, who only smirked menacingly.

Nikki leveled her stare on the man. “Well when you find out your physician is working with a Vampire, it’s a good idea to bring backup.”

Doctor Oliver regarded her with interest. “So, you’ve been made aware of the Underground.”

“I’ve been made aware of a lot of things,” she said, stepping forward. “Like how you’ve been peddling a drug made by Nicholas Bradley’s company while simultaneously being Alexander Rex’s bitch. Both of whom are Vampires, and one an Alpha.”

“Only one?” Doctor Oliver quirked an eyebrow at her, unfazed by her accusations. “Hmm. You might want to reconsider your source.”

Nikki’s throat went dry as she stared back at the man. “Both Bradley and Rex are Alphas?”

“That’s not possible,” Griffin said. “Each territory only has one Alpha.”

Doctor Oliver lifted his dark eyes to Griffin’s. “According to the old Codes. But those aren’t in existence anymore.”

“Says who?”

To Nikki, the gentle doctor had always had an air of benevolence surrounding him, making it even easier to trust him with her health and well-being. But in that moment, as a slow grin cracked his aging face apart, she saw the twisted malignancy hiding under his surface all this time.

“My Master, of course,” Doctor Oliver said, looking back to Nikki.

“You mean Rex.”

Licking his lips, Doctor Oliver said, “Your corpse will be the foundation of his empire.”

“Why?” Nikki snapped. “Why does he give a damn about me?”

The old man studied her a moment. “You already know.”

“Because I’m a Hunter? That’s why he poisoned me?”

“Poison?” Doctor Oliver frowned. “You weren’t poisoned. You were tested.”

Fear settled under Nikki’s skin like frostbite. “Tested for what?”

“To see if you were from the right bloodline.”

Griffin moved forward, crowding into the man’s space. “How about you start giving us the full story, before I really get impatient.”

“We had to be certain you were who my Master believed you to be,” Doctor Oliver started, looking at Nikki. “The rarest breed of Blooded Hunter… A Luminari.”

“A what?”

“The fire that overtakes,” Doctor Oliver continued. “Your kind present a very difficult obstacle if not dealt with immediately. Which is why we needed to find you as quickly as possible.”

She scowled at him. “By giving me fake migraine medicine?”

“’Fake’ isn’t exactly an accurate descriptor,” he said. “More like amplified.”

Griffin glared down at the doctor. “Meaning?”

“The pills Nikki took were about a hundred times the strength of a normal dose of Vicodin,” Doctor Oliver explained. “For the hundreds of others that took them, it was strong enough to kill them. But for Nikki, it was like taking a fast acting aspirin.”

Nikki’s face distorted in horror. “You murdered hundreds of people, just to see if they were a Hunter- a Luminari, like me?”

“We did it in search of you,” he clarified. “And we’ve been looking for a very long time.”

“But why?” She shouted, rushing forward. “What does being a Luminari have to do with your boss or his fucking empire?”

In a burst of manic energy, the doctor came at her, thrusting her against the wall and sending several framed pictures clattering to the floor. “Because you’re the only one that would be able to stop him and any other Vampires that got in your way! So we had to stop you first! We had to snuff you out before your fire engulfed us all!”

The tip of a silver blade appeared at the doctor’s neck and Nikki’s stare flashed up to see Griffin’s fist tightening around the handle.

Voice low and lethal, Griffin said, “How about you take a step back, before I snuff you out.”

Releasing Nikki, the doctor moved away with several halting paces, keeping his hands up in surrender.

“You don’t understand,” he said as he backed up against his desk. “I did what I had to.”

“You purposefully killed hundreds, maybe thousands, of people because your Master told you to,” Griffin said with disgust. “You’re nothing but a well-trained sheep.”

“It’s better to be a shepherd’s livestock than a wild beast caught in his snare,” Doctor Oliver replied, eerily calm.

“The only beast I see is you,” Griffin bit out. Turning, he went to Nikki and wrapped his hand around her arm. “C’mon,” he murmured, trying to lead her to the door. “He’s not gonna give us anything on Rex.”

“Wait,” she said, pulling away briefly and facing the doctor. “So who really wants me dead? Bradley or Rex?”

Doctor Oliver was quiet for a beat before he said, “Every Vampire in this city wants to watch you be drawn and quartered so they can suck the marrow from your bones.”

Nausea washed through her as she gaped. “Go to hell,” she spat.

“He’ll ruin you, like he’s ruined others,” he continued. “He’ll never stop. There’s no hope for you Nikki. You’ll burn, by his hand or yours, it doesn’t matter- You’ll turn to ash no matter what.”

“Enough,” Griffin shouted, wrenching open the door. As he did a scream echoed down the hall, only to be cut off by a wet tearing noise.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” a female voice called out, taunting them.

Griffin and Nikki both stepped out of the office, staring down the long corridor. Blocking the main exit was a pack of ten- no make that twelve- Vampires, with the same black haired female from earlier at the head of the group. She held Linda’s lifeless body by the front of her pink scrubs, blood still gushing from her ravaged throat. Dropping the nurse, the female prowled forward, licking her fingers clean.

“So it is you,” she said, eyeing Griffin with a fanged smile. “Griffin O’Connor. We all thought you were dead. It was in the papers and everything.”

“Is this the part where I tell you not to believe everything you read?” He said, a mocking edge creeping into his words.

The female ignored him and flicked her blanched eyes to Nikki, adding, “And there’s your girlfriend. The Hunter bitch everyone’s been talking about.”

“Careful.” Nikki warned. “Bitches in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

“Cute.” The female smirked. “But you should probably start running now.”

As she spoke the Vampires behind her crouched down, readying themselves to launch forward at a deadly sprint. With a lion’s growl, the female snapped her jaws, and in a blur of motion the whole pack funneled down the hall towards them.

Gripping her hand tight, Griffin started running and pulled Nikki with him, through the side corridor and to the right. A red exit sign caught his attention and he aimed their trajectory, barreling past the metal door and down several flights of stairs.

“Griffin, something’s wrong,” Nikki gasped behind him.

“What?”

“I can’t… I’m trying to run faster, like I did before but-”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he cut her off, afraid of any inhuman ears catching on. “C’mon.” He slowed at the eighth floor entrance and led her into the hallway.

The entire floor was under construction, probably Rex’s doing after he bought the building, with the overpowering smell of fresh paint and drywall clinging inside Griffin’s throat. Tarps were thrown over new furniture and cubicles and equipment had been left out near unfinished projects. Griffin scanned the area but from what he could see, the floor was empty of workers.

The room was quiet. The dogs, however, were howling at the encroaching Newborns. They had broken up their stampede and taken to the ceiling, stalking closer.

Brittle tile crumbled under a hard footfall and a heavily muscled male leapt down, hissing through elongated fangs. Two more followed suit, landing in lithe crouches behind the first.

Griffin’s gun was in his hand before he blinked. Three bullets found their marks and each body thudded to the concrete floor, dust swirling out from where they fell.

Wrapping his hand around Nikki’s, he quickened to a sprint, hauling her with him. She had been right- Nikki’s speed wasn’t a fraction of what it had been the day before or even that morning. Her limbs faltered and she stumbled several times, only staying upright because he caught her.

“Griffin,” she panted with fear behind her eyes.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” he told her as they jogged down another flight of stairs.

Zigzagging their path would hopefully slow down the ones following them, and fade their scent trail enough to confuse the others that had split off from the pack.

Hopefully.

They bolted into another empty floor of half completed offices under construction and he made sure they got close enough to the cans of paint and primer to mask their smell.

“Oh no,” Nikki whispered, fingernails pinching into the back of his hand as she squeezed him tight.

“What?” He slowed momentarily, staring down at her.

At first he didn’t understand where the red drops on the concrete came from. The office walls were obviously being painted a dull white, so there would be no need for scarlet paint…

And then he saw Nikki’s other hand. Her fingers were smudged with an even deeper shade of red, the kind that twisted a huge knot in his stomach. It was the same color he’d been helpless to watch pool around his own abdomen, as he bled out on the floor of a burning night club.

Cursing under his breath, he pulled her to a halt and snagged a relatively clean rag off a work bench nearby.

“Here,” he said, pressing it under her nose.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “It only just started.” She looked around at the floor and rushed to a collection of painting materials. Popping the lid off a can of paint thinner, she dumped it over, covering the thin trail of blood she’d left behind.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said, taking Griffin’s hand again as she started to run.

“Nik-” He planted his feet, the soles of his boots squeaking on the slick floor. “You have to go.”

Wiping away the last smear of blood from her nose, Nikki stared up at him. “Yeah, I know we need to go, c’mon.”

Griffin’s hand, the one still firmly locked in her grasp, started to tremble. Painful realization clutched his insides, constricting until he couldn’t breathe.

He shook his head, swallowing hard. “Not us. You.”

A frown etched deeply between her brows. “What?”

“You have to run,” he said, pulling free of her and digging into his pocket.

“Griffin? What are you-?”

“Here.” He pressed keys into her palm and folded her fingers over them. “Take the van and drive as fast as you can back to the house.”

Nikki blinked. “No.”

“I’ll find my own way back.”

“No, Griffin.” She stared up at him, bright eyes wide with disbelief.

“I’ve gotta give you a fighting chance,” he said, leaning in and locking his gaze on hers. “I can hold them off long enough for you to make it outside, but you have to hurry.”

“No.” She shook her head, trying to hand him back his keys. “Griffin, I’m not leaving you.”

“I’ll be fine.” It was a lie.

Blue irises flashed gold as she grabbed his arm. “No,” she shouted.

Cupping his hand around the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair, he held her so their faces were inches apart. His voice dropped to a firm whisper. “Listen to me. Nikki, I have to keep you safe. That’s all that matters now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You heard what Doctor Oliver said. You’re important- more important than we ever thought.” Griffin’s throat tightened, straining his words. “I have to keep you alive. You have to come out on the other side of this Nikki, and this is how.”

Angry tears stung her eyes. He wasn’t giving orders for an escape plot. He was trying to say goodbye.

“No, Griffin.” She fought to shake her head again, but his grip was too strong. “There’s too many of them. I’m not just gonna abandon you here.”

He paused, only for the span of two heart beats, memorizing the details of her face…The brilliant color of her Hunter eyes.

Then the dogs started to snarl a warning.

“Yes you are.”

It was a stunning flurry of movement Nikki couldn’t process.

His hold on her still firm, Griffin swept her towards the door and shoved her through, releasing her into the stairwell. He slammed the door in a deafening clang and twisted the dead bolt, locking her out.

Nikki’s horrified gasp echoed off the cinderblock walls around her. Breaking out of her shocked stillness, she leapt at the door, pulling violently at the handle but to no avail.

Bruised fingertips slid down the gray metal. “No,” she breathed, staring at the thin sliver of light at the frame.

“Run, Nikki,” Griffin shouted through the door.

Jagged keys bit into the flesh of her palm. Shoes dragged in uneven steps, backing her away from the door.

A fist pounded against the steel, and Griffin bellowed, “Run!”

Demonic growling filled the air around her and Nikki did as Griffin told her.

She left him behind.

* * *

There were few moments when Amsterdam wished the modern world was aware of the existence of Vampires, but he found himself having that desire now. It would mean they would have invented a phone casing capable of being chucked across the room and not obliterated by his inhuman strength. Unfortunately, cell phones were too much of a pain to replace every other day, so his stayed intact in his grasp.

There was a tiny new crack in the screen though. Perhaps he wasn’t as good at controlling himself as he thought.

Tapping the keypad as gently as he could, he redialed Griffin’s number for the fourth time and waited for the inevitable.

“You’ve reached Griffin O’Connor. I’m unable to come to the phone right now, so please leave a message and I’ll get back-”

John ended the call and exhaled through his nose, jaw clenching.

This wasn’t the kind of news to be left on an automated voicemail service, and it was certainly too urgent to wait much longer. He dialed again.

“For God’s sake,” he growled, swiping his thumb over the end call button.

As a last stitch effort, he scrolled through his contact list, scanning the names. He was almost certain Griffin had given him the number in case of an emergency…

Double tapping the icon, he pressed the phone to his ear and waited.

“You’ve released Boz the computer genie, what are your three wishes?”

“Ah…” John drew his brows down in confusion. “Boz Cavaletti?”

“Speaking.”

“This is John Amsterdam.”

“Oh, yeah, hey John! How’s it going man?” He crunched down on a mouthful of what sounded like popcorn and smacked his lips. John struggled not to be horrified by his manners.

“I was trying to get in touch with Griffin,” John said, pacing in front of his windows.

“Oh, sorry I’m not with him. I’m out dealing with something in Queens,” Boz said. There was a moment of tense silence before he continued. “Wait, is Griff not answering his phone?”

“I’ve called several times, but I only got his voicemail. Is he with Lisa?”

John could hear the creak of a desk chair and fingers typing over a keyboard. “No, she’s out on patrol.”

“And Nikki?” John glanced over the nearby rooftops at the small collection of rainclouds in the distance.

“She’s still with Griffin,” Boz answered, still typing.

A pit of cement took form in John’s stomach. “Oh.”

“Do me a favor and put me on hold while you call him again, ‘kay?” Boz asked and John could hear the sequence of keys being hit. It had the cadence of someone typing in a specific password.

“Of course, just a moment,” John said. Touching another icon on the screen he brought up the call log and hit redial. Ring… Ring… Ring…

He switched to the other line. “It’s still his voicemail.”

“That’s okay, I traced the signal,” Boz told him. “I gotta go. Thanks John.”

“Yes, but-”

The line cut out and John was left staring at his phone.

With yet another crack in the screen.

* * *

Breathing wasn’t easy.

The act of it was. Cyclical patterns of inhaling and exhaling that continued without conscious effort- that was easy. But once the brain and body disagreed, things became difficult.

Breathing when every nerve ending rejected its simplicity and lungs begged to let loose in a torrent of screams or sobs or both, was another matter.

Nikki stood with her hand tightening compulsively on the door handle, gulping down air and forcing it out. He told her to do it. He had told her to leave. Thrown her into the stairwell and ordered her to run.

She could hear the noise from the city outside, just on the other side of the gray metal expanse in front of her. Pressing her forehead to the door jam, she listened to the passing cars and pedestrians. The van was parked only a block away. She could make it there safely in less than two minutes.

Except… she couldn’t. She couldn’t run.

“Goddamn it,” she snapped, releasing the knob and spinning the opposite direction.

Her speed wasn’t anything to be envious of, but at least her legs felt steadier than moments earlier. She climbed each flight taking two steps at a time, using the banister to pull herself along. Nikki stopped when she reached the floor Griffin had last been on, and tested the door handle. It was still locked.

Silence. She held her breath, hoping to hear some faint noise of life, but…

He’s fine. He’s going to be fine. He ran… lead them away from her….

Stamping down the panic, Nikki started running again, up two more floors to where Doctor Oliver’s office was located. If the pack was chasing Griffin she doubted they’d loop back to where they’d started. Racing as quietly as she could down the corridor, she glanced into each examination room in case anyone was lingering, but the whole floor had cleared out.

She rounded the corner, heart dropping at the sight of nurse Linda’s corpse angled grotesquely between the reception desk and the wall. Nikki looked around again before ducking into Doctor Oliver’s office and heading for the desk.

She’d thought the doctor would’ve had a letter opener or a tool kit hidden in a drawer somewhere- any sharp object she could use to defend herself. But all she found were loose paper clips and the occasional staple. Not exactly Vampire resistant.

Finally, under a stack of printer paper, she found a box cutter with a retractable blade.

“That’s stealing you know.”

Nikki jerked her head up as Doctor Oliver moved further into the room… with a revolver gripped at his side.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” the doctor continued, with eyes wide. “I wasn’t prepared.”

Nikki could only stare at the older man. She wanted to ask what he meant, but the glinting lethal promise he clutched in his hand kept her silent.

“My Master warned me,” Doctor Oliver said. “He told me to push you, to jab at you like a rancher does to cattle, herding them along.” A manic grin split his face and he chuckled darkly. “But instead I opened the gate and let you run wild.”

“What do you mean?” Nikki asked, in spite of her fear.

“I betrayed the cause,” Doctor Oliver answered. “Your legend was meant to end in bloodshed. But now you know too much. You were never meant to know!”

Nikki locked her stare on the muzzle of the gun, now aimed squarely at her chest.

She felt utterly small in that moment. A speck cast into the void. At the mercy of every imaginable influence. And everything went still.

“You don’t have to do this.” The words were firm as they passed over her lips. “Rex doesn’t own you. He can’t make you do anything. You still have a choice.”

The doctor laughed and the sound fell around her like glass shards. “I am bound by loyalty.”

“It seems to me a man that cruel isn’t deserving of your loyalty.”

“Watch it,” Doctor Oliver shouted, taking a step forward. “You don’t speak of my Master that way. He has done everything necessary to bring about a new empire. Nothing great was ever constructed without bone dust.”

“And this empire of his,” she started. “It’s my bone dust that will help make it?”

“The extinguishing of your flame will forge his steel.”

Nikki’s jaw tensed. More riddles, she thought.

“So, I’m special. I get that,” she said, taking half a step to the left. “But is killing me really worth all destruction he’s already caused? I’m just one woman.”

“You’re more than that,” the doctor blurted. “You’re a Luminari. The rarest of embers made to spark a war.”

Nikki frowned, his words taking root in her core. The familiarity was as if he was reciting a poem she’d heard before, but had since forgotten.

Doctor Oliver advanced another pace, adjusting his grip on the revolver. “But my Master will prevail. He always has.” His dark gaze held hers for a moment before he said, “I can see it… your fear of what’s coiled up inside you. It’s already started to work against you.” His eyes flicked to the red stain on her hand. “You’re already losing the battle.”

Nikki clenched her fist against her thigh. The shadows edging his words were filled with a mangled truth she wanted to understand, but knew she’d never be able to.

The smile that curved across Doctor Oliver’s face was one of bitter acceptance.

“At least my death will be quick,” he said, just before he jammed the muzzle under his chin and pulled the trigger.

The doctor’s body arched backwards, a spray of red and gray erupting along the wall behind him, just before he crumpled to the floor. Bone chips scattered throughout the river of blood pouring from the top of his head, adding a sickening topography to the white carpet.

Clamping her hands over her mouth, Nikki cut off her scream, but that didn’t stop the broken groans slipping between her fingers. She closed her eyes, but those few seconds replayed over and over until she was certain she would be sick.

Breathe… she needed to breathe.

And she had to focus.

She needed to find Griffin.

With shaking legs, Nikki skirted around the doctor’s body and ran from the room, box cutter in hand. She sprinted to the other end of the hall and took a left towards the second flight of emergency stairs and down three floors to a vacant hall that had just finished with construction.

She heard him before she saw him.

Halfway down the corridor, around the corner in the open cubicle space- That’s where she heard the chaotic sounds that made her heart fall into her gut.

Keeping herself close to the wall, she glanced around the corner at the ongoing brawl. Griffin was surrounded by eight Newborns, all of whom were taking their turns to attack in short bursts, wearing him down. He was holding his own, but Nikki could tell he was exhausting himself. Not to mention the injuries he’d already sustained. His lip was bloodied, and bruises were forming along his jaw and cheek.

The female in red plaid with ink black hair pounced on Griffin, delivering multiple expert blows that ended with a nauseating pop of his left shoulder. Griffin shouted in pain and folded in on himself so severely Nikki thought he’d fall to the floor. But then he was upright and slicing at anything near him with his blade, cutting into two males.

It still wasn’t enough. Griffin wouldn’t last much longer on his own.

I’ve seen Newborns rip each other apart over a drop of fresh blood…

They were his words, said only as an example of Vampire cruelty.

Nikki really hoped it wasn’t an exaggeration.

Staring down at the box cutter in her grip, she inhaled and leaned back against the wall. With the pad of her thumb she slid the blade up through the handle and laid its edge against her left palm. Searing pain burned along her hand, followed by a thin red line that welled over onto the floor.

Taking one last fortifying breath, Nikki stepped out of her hiding spot into the middle of the hallway.

“Hey,” she shouted, catching the attention of several Vampires. They lifted their heads, scenting the air and growling.

Holding up her wounded hand, she called out, “You want some?”, blood trickling down her wrist.

A group of four swiveled around, watching each other as they prowled closer.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Nikki coaxed. “Come and get it.”

A behemoth of a male, with broad shoulders and thick neck, took the first step out of formation and two females turned on him. One with blonde curls and the other a short brown bob, leapt onto his back and sank their fangs into sinewy muscle. The brunette ripped a hunk of flesh out of his shoulder, spitting it on the ground while the blonde had her fingers jammed into his eye sockets, plucking the gooey membranes from their cavities. He wailed in agony as he fell to knees, blood streaming down his face.

A leaner male with long dark hair took the opportunity to run at Nikki, only to have the brunette female give up the other male’s shoulder she was gnawing on to go after him. She swung at him, tackling him to the ground, but he flipped her and punched his fists through her ribcage like it was made of tooth picks. Twisting, he pulled out a mass of arteries and fibrous muscle tissue and crushed it in his hand. The female turned to ash underneath his boot as he stood.

Nikki could barely hear Griffin shouting at her over her pulse drumming in her ears. She clenched her fist and blood seeped through her knuckles. She just needed to give Griffin time…

Hair like the wings of a crow spread out across the male’s shoulders, his white eyes locked on her throat as he stalked closer.

Three… Two…

“Come on,” Nikki shouted before spinning on her heel and bolting down the corridor.

Blood splattered the floor, leaving a trail as she ran. Heavy foot falls were gaining on her at a pace that made her sick with panic. Her legs ached and her joints burned as she hung a right down a perpendicular hallway. She wasn’t going to be able to outrun him. She could already feel weakness taking hold, weighing her down.

Going left, she expected another long corridor but pulled up short in a dead end supply closet. Several meters away she heard his low icy chuckle. She was trapped, and the male knew it too.

A fire extinguisher hung in its case by the closet door, and she wrenched it free. Bloodied fingers yanked out the pin and gripped the nozzle, ready to squeeze the handle.

Nikki held her breath, watching the top of his shadow sweep across the wall and around the corner. Rushing forward, she aimed the hose, releasing a cloud of nitrogen gas directly into the male’s eyes. He cried out, covering his face with his hands, stumbling back.

Using both hands, Nikki swung the extinguisher like a baseball bat. The dense cylinder made contact with his chin, toppling him over with a satisfying crack. Dropping the extinguisher, she started to run, but he caught her by the ankle and dragged her to the floor.

Nikki screamed, digging her nails into the carpet as he hauled her back. She was flipped in an instant and he was over top of her, grabbing her legs and kneeing them apart. Throwing her elbow into his throat she was able to wriggle away, enough to rear back and kick him in the chest. She kicked again and rolled onto her stomach, crawling towards her box cutter. Just as her fingertips brushed the handle, he caught her by her calf and she felt his fangs shred the hem of her pants leg.

Fevered heat blasted through Nikki, and in a powerful thrust her heel found the underside of his jaw, bone cracking like ice. He roared and lunged forward, grabbing her arm. Contorting out of his grasp, she sliced the blade through the corded muscle of his bicep before angling upwards and stabbing him in the left eye. Kneeing him in the ribs, she leveraged his weight off of her and pinned him to the floor. She brought the box cutter down again, this time severing the main arteries in his neck and cutting through his vocal cords. Pulling the blade free, she stumbled away, tripping over his torso as she tried to regain her footing and make a run for it.

Someone caught her by the elbow, pulling her into the doorway of one of the offices, shoving her back. Her head swam and she slid to the floor, leaning against the doorframe. Long brown hair tied back in a ponytail billowed out as the woman disappeared around the other side of the wall.

Woman?

Two rapid gunshots fired, then a pause, followed by two more.

And finally, silence.

Nikki tried to get to her feet when Lisa appeared in the doorway, slipping her Glock back into its holster. Crouching down, she extended her hand to Nikki.

“You okay?”

Nikki was vaguely aware she was nodding. “I…”

“What happened?” Lisa asked, inspecting her wounded hand.

Hearing two other sets of footsteps, Nikki turned as Griffin and another woman rounded the corner.

The newcomer regarded Nikki with bright hazel eyes set against tan skin and thick black hair. She stared at her with curiosity and Nikki felt an eerie familiarity. This woman was looking at her just as Griffin had that first day in the coffee shop.

At the thought, Nikki glanced to Griffin, who hung back a few paces. Bloodied and exhausted, he cradled his left arm to his abdomen and stood favoring the same side. He wouldn’t look her in the eye. He simply stared into space several inches to her right, a muscle in his jaw working overtime.

“Nikki?” Lisa tilted her head. “What happened?”

Her voice as hollow as she felt, Nikki said, “I cut myself.”