We're sorry; this story is in redevelopment hell, because the last one was ridiculously long and basically in dire need of repair. As a result, there may be some confusion for new readers about unexplained events between "There are No Such Things as Vampires" and the next story in this world. Maybe someday I will repost, or else just publish these stupid things. In the meantime, just bear with me.
Thank you.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank:
my friend Tessa, for being so enthusiastic,
my friend Fauve, for nagging me to complete the story, because she wanted to know more,
my friend Sami, for letting me know that my posts were the main reason she checked her e-mail every day,
and all you people out there who are sick to the teeth of vampire stories.
my friend Tessa, for being so enthusiastic,
my friend Fauve, for nagging me to complete the story, because she wanted to know more,
my friend Sami, for letting me know that my posts were the main reason she checked her e-mail every day,
and all you people out there who are sick to the teeth of vampire stories.
TANSTAV part 37
Chapter 10 part 3
Of course, nothing is ever that easy in my life. Oh, we got home all right, taking the bus. On the way, I even got a bit of strength back in my limbs (though I still needed help walking anywhere). But when we got to the apartment, and were in the elevator, a familiar, noxious smell clogged my nostrils. Don't worry, it wasn't Jessup. No points for those of you who thought it was him, sorry. Instead, it was the cloying stench of campfire smoke mixed with too much hair gel and cologne. I glanced at my girlfriend (it felt so nice to call her that!), and could tell that she could smell it too. Xen looked as perturbed as I was.
"Is that who I think it is?"
"Unfortunately, yes." I hesitated. "If one of you could push the button for the floor below ours, we can slip out, and wait until he goes away."
"Huh?" asked Calla. "Who is it?"
"It's-" Before I could finish my sentence, the doors to the elevator opened, and there he was, standing at the end of the hall. There was no escape.
"You're looking rather...shabby, Tristan. Good heavens, is that blood?"
"Hi, Art," I growled, as civilly as possible.
Yes, as you may have guessed, it was my 'treasured' brother, Arthur. There he stood, in his fancy three-piece business suit, already a successful lawyer at the ripe old age of 23 (Personally, I don't know who in their right mind would want to be a lawyer; everyone knows that was a profession invented by demons, for the purpose of making the lives of others more difficult). His hair was brown, like mine, but his eyes were yellow like our mother's. In my opinion, he used far too much gel, so his hair would stay flat and slicked into place; it had no freedom. He had a black ivory comb sticking out of his jacket pocket, and also a bulge that was probably extra gel, showing just how given to vanity he could be about his hair. Every bit of him, from head to toe, was absolutely spotless and tidy. It reminded me so much of Father, I could barely restrain myself from hunching my shoulders and glaring at the floor, my typical pose during one of his lectures.
"What are you here for?" I asked, stepping out of the elevator, with some help from Xen and Calla. The latter was staring back and forth between me and Arthur; obviously she had figured out the connection between us, and was trying to figure out what would happen next.
"Do I need a reason to come and visit my little brother?" he asked.
"Typically, yes," I replied. I had only seen him twice since my fleeing home; the first time had been to try and persuade me to go back (after finally tracking me down), and the second was to bring me a message from Father telling me how foolhardy I was to try having a job as a detective in a ‘hicktown.’ Neither meeting had ended well.
"So, what's the message now?" The three of us began staggering down the hallway, with my brother walking alongside.
"No message. I merely came to see how you were getting on in life. Making sure that you are adjusting well to a life of poverty."
I didn't believe he gave a shard of granite about my welfare. No, in all likelihood this was him trying to flaunt his wealth, show off how much better off he was than I, because he'd allowed our dad to teach him to heel on command, and I hadn't. There was always an ulterior motive in our family; we make the Kennedys and the Tudors look like the Brady Bunch. The only difference is that, to my knowledge, none of us has ever had an affair, or murdered our brother. But if any of them had, it wouldn't surprise me too much.
"I'm doing fine, thanks," I said dryly. "I've just cleared up a particularly nasty case, and I'd like to go lie down now, so if you'll excuse me-"
Arthur finally seemed to notice Calla and Xen. He frowned.
"Who are these?"
"Xenobia Keller," Xen introduced herself.
"Calla Gardiner," Calla squeaked. "I'm his assistant."
"Keller...Keller..." Arthur mused the name, ignoring my assistant altogether, ticking me off even more. Finally, his eyes lit up.
"You were our neighbor! That girl that Father always wanted Tristan to stay away from--"
As he realized what he was saying, and what this meant, he cut himself off. His face became shocked, as he scrutinized the way Xen was supporting me, and how my arm was draped around her shoulders. She started to move away; being seen showing affection in public embarrassed her. I only clutched her tighter to me. Since we had basically let the imp out of the bag, there seemed no point in hiding things now.
"Tristan," said Arthur in a strangled tone, "am I to understand that you are in a-a physical relationship with this-this-"
"I am here, you know," said Xen testily, "You don't have to talk about me like I'm not. And typically, I refer to myself as a chimera."
"And to answer your question, yes, Arthur, she is my girlfriend," I said, standing up as straight as possible. "Actually, to be accurate, she's my fiancée now."
I thought my brother was about to have an apoplectic fit. His face went dark gray (the gargoyle equivalent of blushing, or going red with anger), and he gasped, "You can't do this, Tristan! You can't sully your bloodline by marrying a half-breed freak!"
"I can, and I will!" I shouted. "Don't you dare call her a freak!"
I stepped free of the girls, and advanced in his direction, fists clenched. Except for some staggering, I was able to keep my balance.
Arthur, though good in a verbal debate (which is just a fancy word for squabbling, in my opinion), and a hero on his high school air hockey team (by which I mean literally in the air), has never had to be in an actual fight before. Ever since I became a detective, and even before that, I've had several. I was pretty sure that, even if I couldn't actually take him, I could at least give him a good wallop or two.
My brother was unwilling to stay and face me. He pushed past us, and headed for the elevator.
"Father will hear about this!" he called back over his shoulder. "He will be furious!"
"Good! I hope so!" I shot back. "Tell him he and Mom are invited to the wedding, too!"
The elevator doors slammed shut on Arthur's furious expression. Xen looked at me.
"Are they really invited?"
"It doesn't matter," I replied with a shrug, "They're not gonna come, anyway."
About a week later (after I finally got a new phone), the dreaded call came. A fierce voice said through the receiver, in response to my query of ‘Hello?’, "What is the meaning of this news I have heard from Arthur?!"
"Hi, Dad, nice to hear from you too," I said, after a moment. I had regained most of my strength over the week, and was feeling unusually bold. Of course, if Dad had been there in person, I would probably have cringed and shrunk before him, like I had back home.
"Don't be impertinent, Tristan! Are you or are you not intending to marry that girl?!"
"...Yes. Yes, I am going to marry Xen. In October."
"I forbid it. And I forbid you to continue having that-that human as an assistant."
There was no pleading, no threatening, no explanations, just forbidding. I snorted in disgust.
"I’m not your puppet, Dad. You can't stop me. I love Xen, and am going to marry her, whether you like it or not. And Calla needs me, I can’t send her away. Besides, she’s a mage. She’s not an exact human."
"Tristan, if you ever wish to set foot in my house again, or see even a penny of your inheritance, you will comply with my wishes!"
"Okay. Then we are agreed. Bye." And with that, I hung up.
Needless to say, I have not heard from him, or anyone else in my family, in the past three months. But, since I have received a raise from the chief, as well as a rewarding payment from the Jorgensen and Skald families, and Xen's paintings have become incredibly popular (it's amazing what sudden fame will do for you), meaning she is getting more money too, I don't especially care. Of course, there are times when I wish things could have been different between us...Oh, well, water under the burning bridge, right?
Jessup was sent back to prison, with security around his cell (and everyone else's, for that matter) increased tenfold, so hopefully nobody can escape, or be smuggled out, again. Despite his pleading insanity, Fleming was convicted, and also sent to Chernabog. This has all given me immense satisfaction. So now, I can only sit in my office, or in my apartment, and wait for my next case to arise.
Of course, nothing is ever that easy in my life. Oh, we got home all right, taking the bus. On the way, I even got a bit of strength back in my limbs (though I still needed help walking anywhere). But when we got to the apartment, and were in the elevator, a familiar, noxious smell clogged my nostrils. Don't worry, it wasn't Jessup. No points for those of you who thought it was him, sorry. Instead, it was the cloying stench of campfire smoke mixed with too much hair gel and cologne. I glanced at my girlfriend (it felt so nice to call her that!), and could tell that she could smell it too. Xen looked as perturbed as I was.
"Is that who I think it is?"
"Unfortunately, yes." I hesitated. "If one of you could push the button for the floor below ours, we can slip out, and wait until he goes away."
"Huh?" asked Calla. "Who is it?"
"It's-" Before I could finish my sentence, the doors to the elevator opened, and there he was, standing at the end of the hall. There was no escape.
"You're looking rather...shabby, Tristan. Good heavens, is that blood?"
"Hi, Art," I growled, as civilly as possible.
Yes, as you may have guessed, it was my 'treasured' brother, Arthur. There he stood, in his fancy three-piece business suit, already a successful lawyer at the ripe old age of 23 (Personally, I don't know who in their right mind would want to be a lawyer; everyone knows that was a profession invented by demons, for the purpose of making the lives of others more difficult). His hair was brown, like mine, but his eyes were yellow like our mother's. In my opinion, he used far too much gel, so his hair would stay flat and slicked into place; it had no freedom. He had a black ivory comb sticking out of his jacket pocket, and also a bulge that was probably extra gel, showing just how given to vanity he could be about his hair. Every bit of him, from head to toe, was absolutely spotless and tidy. It reminded me so much of Father, I could barely restrain myself from hunching my shoulders and glaring at the floor, my typical pose during one of his lectures.
"What are you here for?" I asked, stepping out of the elevator, with some help from Xen and Calla. The latter was staring back and forth between me and Arthur; obviously she had figured out the connection between us, and was trying to figure out what would happen next.
"Do I need a reason to come and visit my little brother?" he asked.
"Typically, yes," I replied. I had only seen him twice since my fleeing home; the first time had been to try and persuade me to go back (after finally tracking me down), and the second was to bring me a message from Father telling me how foolhardy I was to try having a job as a detective in a ‘hicktown.’ Neither meeting had ended well.
"So, what's the message now?" The three of us began staggering down the hallway, with my brother walking alongside.
"No message. I merely came to see how you were getting on in life. Making sure that you are adjusting well to a life of poverty."
I didn't believe he gave a shard of granite about my welfare. No, in all likelihood this was him trying to flaunt his wealth, show off how much better off he was than I, because he'd allowed our dad to teach him to heel on command, and I hadn't. There was always an ulterior motive in our family; we make the Kennedys and the Tudors look like the Brady Bunch. The only difference is that, to my knowledge, none of us has ever had an affair, or murdered our brother. But if any of them had, it wouldn't surprise me too much.
"I'm doing fine, thanks," I said dryly. "I've just cleared up a particularly nasty case, and I'd like to go lie down now, so if you'll excuse me-"
Arthur finally seemed to notice Calla and Xen. He frowned.
"Who are these?"
"Xenobia Keller," Xen introduced herself.
"Calla Gardiner," Calla squeaked. "I'm his assistant."
"Keller...Keller..." Arthur mused the name, ignoring my assistant altogether, ticking me off even more. Finally, his eyes lit up.
"You were our neighbor! That girl that Father always wanted Tristan to stay away from--"
As he realized what he was saying, and what this meant, he cut himself off. His face became shocked, as he scrutinized the way Xen was supporting me, and how my arm was draped around her shoulders. She started to move away; being seen showing affection in public embarrassed her. I only clutched her tighter to me. Since we had basically let the imp out of the bag, there seemed no point in hiding things now.
"Tristan," said Arthur in a strangled tone, "am I to understand that you are in a-a physical relationship with this-this-"
"I am here, you know," said Xen testily, "You don't have to talk about me like I'm not. And typically, I refer to myself as a chimera."
"And to answer your question, yes, Arthur, she is my girlfriend," I said, standing up as straight as possible. "Actually, to be accurate, she's my fiancée now."
I thought my brother was about to have an apoplectic fit. His face went dark gray (the gargoyle equivalent of blushing, or going red with anger), and he gasped, "You can't do this, Tristan! You can't sully your bloodline by marrying a half-breed freak!"
"I can, and I will!" I shouted. "Don't you dare call her a freak!"
I stepped free of the girls, and advanced in his direction, fists clenched. Except for some staggering, I was able to keep my balance.
Arthur, though good in a verbal debate (which is just a fancy word for squabbling, in my opinion), and a hero on his high school air hockey team (by which I mean literally in the air), has never had to be in an actual fight before. Ever since I became a detective, and even before that, I've had several. I was pretty sure that, even if I couldn't actually take him, I could at least give him a good wallop or two.
My brother was unwilling to stay and face me. He pushed past us, and headed for the elevator.
"Father will hear about this!" he called back over his shoulder. "He will be furious!"
"Good! I hope so!" I shot back. "Tell him he and Mom are invited to the wedding, too!"
The elevator doors slammed shut on Arthur's furious expression. Xen looked at me.
"Are they really invited?"
"It doesn't matter," I replied with a shrug, "They're not gonna come, anyway."
About a week later (after I finally got a new phone), the dreaded call came. A fierce voice said through the receiver, in response to my query of ‘Hello?’, "What is the meaning of this news I have heard from Arthur?!"
"Hi, Dad, nice to hear from you too," I said, after a moment. I had regained most of my strength over the week, and was feeling unusually bold. Of course, if Dad had been there in person, I would probably have cringed and shrunk before him, like I had back home.
"Don't be impertinent, Tristan! Are you or are you not intending to marry that girl?!"
"...Yes. Yes, I am going to marry Xen. In October."
"I forbid it. And I forbid you to continue having that-that human as an assistant."
There was no pleading, no threatening, no explanations, just forbidding. I snorted in disgust.
"I’m not your puppet, Dad. You can't stop me. I love Xen, and am going to marry her, whether you like it or not. And Calla needs me, I can’t send her away. Besides, she’s a mage. She’s not an exact human."
"Tristan, if you ever wish to set foot in my house again, or see even a penny of your inheritance, you will comply with my wishes!"
"Okay. Then we are agreed. Bye." And with that, I hung up.
Needless to say, I have not heard from him, or anyone else in my family, in the past three months. But, since I have received a raise from the chief, as well as a rewarding payment from the Jorgensen and Skald families, and Xen's paintings have become incredibly popular (it's amazing what sudden fame will do for you), meaning she is getting more money too, I don't especially care. Of course, there are times when I wish things could have been different between us...Oh, well, water under the burning bridge, right?
Jessup was sent back to prison, with security around his cell (and everyone else's, for that matter) increased tenfold, so hopefully nobody can escape, or be smuggled out, again. Despite his pleading insanity, Fleming was convicted, and also sent to Chernabog. This has all given me immense satisfaction. So now, I can only sit in my office, or in my apartment, and wait for my next case to arise.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
TANSTAV part 36
Chapter 10 part 2
As bad as that sounds, it was very necessary. She had to check and make sure there was no shrapnel or remains of bullet left in my body, before she could do any real healing. How can I describe the process of being vivisected while one is still alive and mostly conscious? Let me see...oh, yes. As I once said to an annoying reporter during the rare moment I agreed to an interview, even a masochist would find the process impossible to enjoy. Xen has also told me that it’s basically the most disgusting thing she has ever done, but she knew she had to in order to save my life. Some of the experience’s kind of hazy, and I think I blacked out once or twice, which was probably a blessing. One of my more vivid memories is Xen reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small packet of white powder.
"What's...that?" I managed to gasp.
"Powdered Yoon bone," she replied, opening it. "It'll help regrow your ribs and clavicles."
"They...shattered?"
"Oh, yeah. Big time."
Despite the distressing circumstances, Xen kept her voice calm. I admired her self control, and that she was trying to act like a doctor.
She took out a pinch of bone, and gingerly placed it in a few select places. I idly wondered where she'd gotten it. I hoped the Yoon it belonged to was already dead, or that the bone had had to be surgically removed, or something. As the powder got in my system, the sharp pains I was feeling began to go away. Ah, good, the stabbing sensation in my lung had dissipated, and with some spit, Xen plugged up the hole. As soon as she was sure all the bones were put back together, after adding a bit of her blood to prevent infection, she coughed up a large glob of spit (also very gross), and began dribbling it into my wounds. Once in a while, I would point out a spot that Xen had missed, or groan in pain, but other than that, things were going pretty quietly. I noticed that Calla had freed the other prisoners (except Jessup, thank heavens), and had also moved Fleming, who was unconscious and bleeding, into another cage. She came over to where we were.
"How is he?" she asked.
"He's on the mend, thank heavens," Xen replied. The girl's shoulders rose and fell in a sigh of relief. It was then that I drifted out of consciousness again.
It didn't seem very long before I woke up again, but it must have been, because I felt a lot better. Granted, I was still weak, and I once again felt like I had after being thrashed nearly to death by those hired goons (No, I am still unwilling to tell you about it; it was very humiliating for me); but I could tell that the holes in my guts and shoulders had closed up, and my insides felt good as new. I slowly opened my eyes, and saw Xen staring anxiously down at me. I was abruptly a bit anxious myself; having to save someone’s life by tearing them open, and then putting them back together, is a very intimate, personal process. What if she was so repulsed by what she had to do that she no longer loved me? Seeing me awake, she smiled with relief; but what if she was just trying to keep me happy? Behind her, I saw Calla, who wiped her eyes, and cried out, "He's alive!"
I smiled weakly, hoping it wasn't showing my fear, and whispered, "Hey, Xen."
"It's about time," she replied.
Then, remembering something she'd said while attacking Fleming, I said, "Uh, Xen, technically I'm not your-"
"Tristan," she interrupted, "shut up."
And then she kissed me. I shut up.
When I was finally allowed to talk again, the first words out of my mouth were, "Marry me, Xen. Please?"
I know, this was not in my original plans. But I couldn't wait. I had to ask now, before something else happened. She stared at me in shock. A full ten seconds passed, making me nervous. Maybe she was too grossed out to still want me. Then, with an expression of utmost delight, she cried, "Land sakes, Tristan! I thought you'd never ask!"
Pulling me up, she hugged me. I asked, "Does that mean yes?"
She sat back, and scrutinized me, trying to see if I was serious. Realizing I was, she looked me right in the eyes, and said slowly, "Yes, Tristan. Yes, I will marry you."
That made everything all right.
After a long, long while, I finally thought to see what Calla was doing. I glanced over in her direction, and saw that she was standing by the altar, arms folded, staring up at the ceiling. She was humming slightly, and I got the impression that she was embarrassed. I tried to stand up, and felt my limbs all simultaneously collapse. Thankfully, Xen was there to catch me before I could do a faceplant, and drape my arm around her shoulders.
"Take it easy," she cautioned me, "You just nearly died. Give yourself some time."
Slowly we shuffled over to Calla, and I held out my other arm to her. At least, I made a gesture at her with my free hand. She came over, and hugged me around the chest, not caring about my bloodstained clothing (don’t worry, after gargoyle blood cools down, it’s safe to touch). With effort, I returned it.
"I'm so glad you're alive," she murmured.
"Hey, I wasn't gonna leave that easily," I replied. "Someone's got to be there to look after you."
Calla gave a small laugh, the first I'd ever heard from her. It was sweet.
At that moment, the police finally arrived. Ishida burst into the room, with what seemed like half the police force in tow.
"What the devil is going on here?!" he barked. "What happened? What's all this mess?"
Xen pointed at Fleming, and said, "He's the one you want."
I added, “You’ll want to arrest him for kidnapping, attempted murder, theft, necromancy, and deception.”
“Deception is not against the law!” Fleming, who was finally awake, squawked indignantly.
“True,” I shot back, “but it is a commandment.”
“The ninth, to be precise,” said Calla.
I nodded to her. “Thank you, Calla.”
Two cops headed for the cage; I asked the chief, "How did you find us?"
"We traced the last signal we'd gotten from your phone, and-" Ishida stopped, and frowned at me, looking confused.
"Why do you have blood on what remains of your shirt?"
"It's...complicated, chief. I'll tell you in the report. Just know that you've got two new prisoners, one of whom needs to go back to Chernabog, ASAP. And let me know if you find a hooded cloak, or if Fleming has any notes about this. I need something to add to my collection."
(I keep little mementos from all my cases in a file cabinet at work.)
With the help of the girls, I shuffled over to the cage where my enemy stood, glaring at me, his handsome face contorted with a paroxysm of deepest rage.
"Hi," I said. "You know, being behind bars really suits you."
"This isn't over, Wormwood," Jessup hissed, "I'll get out again, and when I do, I'll come for you, and your lady friends, and make sure that before you die you watch them undergo the most horrible, painful-"
"Spare me. If I had a dime every time someone threatened my life, I’d have-” I did a quick mental calculation- “about twenty dollars.”
“You've been threatened by two hundred different people?” Calla gasped.
“No, some of them repeated themselves. Anyway, Jessup, you don't have a snowball in Texas's chance of getting out. And if you do, I'll be waiting. You name the place."
"Yeah. We'll be waiting too," growled Xen. She bared her fangs at him; I noticed that Calla, though looking a lot less intimidating, did have her best glare on. She whispered, "I hope you enjoy prison, sir."
It was then that we decided to go home. I'd had enough for one day, and besides, we had some plans to make.
As bad as that sounds, it was very necessary. She had to check and make sure there was no shrapnel or remains of bullet left in my body, before she could do any real healing. How can I describe the process of being vivisected while one is still alive and mostly conscious? Let me see...oh, yes. As I once said to an annoying reporter during the rare moment I agreed to an interview, even a masochist would find the process impossible to enjoy. Xen has also told me that it’s basically the most disgusting thing she has ever done, but she knew she had to in order to save my life. Some of the experience’s kind of hazy, and I think I blacked out once or twice, which was probably a blessing. One of my more vivid memories is Xen reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small packet of white powder.
"What's...that?" I managed to gasp.
"Powdered Yoon bone," she replied, opening it. "It'll help regrow your ribs and clavicles."
"They...shattered?"
"Oh, yeah. Big time."
Despite the distressing circumstances, Xen kept her voice calm. I admired her self control, and that she was trying to act like a doctor.
She took out a pinch of bone, and gingerly placed it in a few select places. I idly wondered where she'd gotten it. I hoped the Yoon it belonged to was already dead, or that the bone had had to be surgically removed, or something. As the powder got in my system, the sharp pains I was feeling began to go away. Ah, good, the stabbing sensation in my lung had dissipated, and with some spit, Xen plugged up the hole. As soon as she was sure all the bones were put back together, after adding a bit of her blood to prevent infection, she coughed up a large glob of spit (also very gross), and began dribbling it into my wounds. Once in a while, I would point out a spot that Xen had missed, or groan in pain, but other than that, things were going pretty quietly. I noticed that Calla had freed the other prisoners (except Jessup, thank heavens), and had also moved Fleming, who was unconscious and bleeding, into another cage. She came over to where we were.
"How is he?" she asked.
"He's on the mend, thank heavens," Xen replied. The girl's shoulders rose and fell in a sigh of relief. It was then that I drifted out of consciousness again.
It didn't seem very long before I woke up again, but it must have been, because I felt a lot better. Granted, I was still weak, and I once again felt like I had after being thrashed nearly to death by those hired goons (No, I am still unwilling to tell you about it; it was very humiliating for me); but I could tell that the holes in my guts and shoulders had closed up, and my insides felt good as new. I slowly opened my eyes, and saw Xen staring anxiously down at me. I was abruptly a bit anxious myself; having to save someone’s life by tearing them open, and then putting them back together, is a very intimate, personal process. What if she was so repulsed by what she had to do that she no longer loved me? Seeing me awake, she smiled with relief; but what if she was just trying to keep me happy? Behind her, I saw Calla, who wiped her eyes, and cried out, "He's alive!"
I smiled weakly, hoping it wasn't showing my fear, and whispered, "Hey, Xen."
"It's about time," she replied.
Then, remembering something she'd said while attacking Fleming, I said, "Uh, Xen, technically I'm not your-"
"Tristan," she interrupted, "shut up."
And then she kissed me. I shut up.
When I was finally allowed to talk again, the first words out of my mouth were, "Marry me, Xen. Please?"
I know, this was not in my original plans. But I couldn't wait. I had to ask now, before something else happened. She stared at me in shock. A full ten seconds passed, making me nervous. Maybe she was too grossed out to still want me. Then, with an expression of utmost delight, she cried, "Land sakes, Tristan! I thought you'd never ask!"
Pulling me up, she hugged me. I asked, "Does that mean yes?"
She sat back, and scrutinized me, trying to see if I was serious. Realizing I was, she looked me right in the eyes, and said slowly, "Yes, Tristan. Yes, I will marry you."
That made everything all right.
After a long, long while, I finally thought to see what Calla was doing. I glanced over in her direction, and saw that she was standing by the altar, arms folded, staring up at the ceiling. She was humming slightly, and I got the impression that she was embarrassed. I tried to stand up, and felt my limbs all simultaneously collapse. Thankfully, Xen was there to catch me before I could do a faceplant, and drape my arm around her shoulders.
"Take it easy," she cautioned me, "You just nearly died. Give yourself some time."
Slowly we shuffled over to Calla, and I held out my other arm to her. At least, I made a gesture at her with my free hand. She came over, and hugged me around the chest, not caring about my bloodstained clothing (don’t worry, after gargoyle blood cools down, it’s safe to touch). With effort, I returned it.
"I'm so glad you're alive," she murmured.
"Hey, I wasn't gonna leave that easily," I replied. "Someone's got to be there to look after you."
Calla gave a small laugh, the first I'd ever heard from her. It was sweet.
At that moment, the police finally arrived. Ishida burst into the room, with what seemed like half the police force in tow.
"What the devil is going on here?!" he barked. "What happened? What's all this mess?"
Xen pointed at Fleming, and said, "He's the one you want."
I added, “You’ll want to arrest him for kidnapping, attempted murder, theft, necromancy, and deception.”
“Deception is not against the law!” Fleming, who was finally awake, squawked indignantly.
“True,” I shot back, “but it is a commandment.”
“The ninth, to be precise,” said Calla.
I nodded to her. “Thank you, Calla.”
Two cops headed for the cage; I asked the chief, "How did you find us?"
"We traced the last signal we'd gotten from your phone, and-" Ishida stopped, and frowned at me, looking confused.
"Why do you have blood on what remains of your shirt?"
"It's...complicated, chief. I'll tell you in the report. Just know that you've got two new prisoners, one of whom needs to go back to Chernabog, ASAP. And let me know if you find a hooded cloak, or if Fleming has any notes about this. I need something to add to my collection."
(I keep little mementos from all my cases in a file cabinet at work.)
With the help of the girls, I shuffled over to the cage where my enemy stood, glaring at me, his handsome face contorted with a paroxysm of deepest rage.
"Hi," I said. "You know, being behind bars really suits you."
"This isn't over, Wormwood," Jessup hissed, "I'll get out again, and when I do, I'll come for you, and your lady friends, and make sure that before you die you watch them undergo the most horrible, painful-"
"Spare me. If I had a dime every time someone threatened my life, I’d have-” I did a quick mental calculation- “about twenty dollars.”
“You've been threatened by two hundred different people?” Calla gasped.
“No, some of them repeated themselves. Anyway, Jessup, you don't have a snowball in Texas's chance of getting out. And if you do, I'll be waiting. You name the place."
"Yeah. We'll be waiting too," growled Xen. She bared her fangs at him; I noticed that Calla, though looking a lot less intimidating, did have her best glare on. She whispered, "I hope you enjoy prison, sir."
It was then that we decided to go home. I'd had enough for one day, and besides, we had some plans to make.
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