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.
Showing posts with label TANSTAV. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TANSTAV. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
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.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
TANSTAV part 35
Chapter 10
All right, so I lied about dying, as you may have realized from the fact that I am still writing this book; however, I do nearly die, which is close enough. And almost get attacked by leeches in the bargain.
The first thought that entered my head upon feeling the bullet hit me was: Ouch. It was followed a few seconds later by: He shot me! And then I felt it explode into two bits, which flew out my shoulders (one of the nastier habits of splatter bullets), thankfully missing my wings. I looked down, and saw a huge crimson burst spreading across the left side of my stomach, where the bullet had hit. I lifted my hand to try and staunch the blood flow, but it seemed like time was slowing down. My hand moved with all the speed of a glacier on the move, and was trembling like I had Parkinson’s disease. Finally, I pressed it onto the wound, which shot a wave of pain through me. It was about then that I realized I was falling, my knees collapsing under me.
As I hit the ground, ultimately landing on my back, I caught a glimpse of Calla, her white face covered in horror, screaming my name.
She really is quite fond of me, I remember thinking. Poor girl. I hope she doesn't blame herself for this, and that Xen will take care of her. I wonder what Fleming's doing right now.
With unbearable slowness, I rolled my eyes over in his direction, and saw him staring back at me, with a very nasty grin of triumph. He lifted the splatter gun, and cocked it at me. I got the impression that he was going to shoot me again, maybe in the heart this time. By some miracle, the last bullet had missed it, instead hitting what felt like several other important vital organs. I stared back at him, wanting to go out bravely. And then, I saw an angel above Fleming. She must have been an avenging angel, because she was dive-bombing him. A gray avenging angel, with furry wings, and red and brown hair.
"You-" the angel screamed, as she landed on Fleming, ripping the splatter gun out of his hand, "-do not touch-" her lavender eyes blazed with fury- "-MY BOYFRIEND!!!!"
Oh, Xen, I love you, I thought, smiling dazedly. I'm sorry about leaving you like this.
She slammed Fleming really hard in his already-wounded shoulder and arm; he screamed so agonizingly that I almost felt some semblance of pity from him. Xen was becoming quite vicious, hitting and tearing at him so quick and fast that he obviously couldn't even think about using his magic. Calla ran across the room, probably to keep her from doing any permanent damage. Dear Calla; she was so tenderhearted, even for the bad guy.
It was at that moment that Jessup woke up. He blinked, and then sat up, obviously confused. It appeared that Fleming's hypnotic hold on him had been broken, probably because he was so distracted at the moment. The demon looked over at the altercation going on, glanced down on the altar he was on-and then he saw me. He looked shocked, but then an expression of utter delight lit up his heavy-lidded eyes.
Uh-oh.
Slowly, Jessup got down from the altar, and, neatly sidestepping Xen, who was still trying to kill Fleming, and Calla, who was trying to get her back under control, he came over to my cage. He pulled open the door, and crouched down by my side.
"Well, well, well!" he purred. "In a spot of trouble, aren't you, Wormwood?"
"Oh, it’s not that bad," I croaked unconvincingly.
Jessup chuckled.
"It doesn't look like you'll last the night," he said, making polite conversation.
"Yeah, that's what they said about the Star-Spangled Banner," I shot back. My vision was becoming awfully hazy, which made it hard to see his stupid sideways smirk.
"True, true. But you're losing an awful lot of lifeblood, Wormwood. Far more than can be good for you."
He contemplated me for a moment, and then murmured, “There are so many ways I could kill you right now. I could, perhaps, break your neck, just like this.” He placed one hand on the top of my head, and the other around my throat. “I could jerk one hand left, the other right, and snap! No more you.” It was an echo of our conversation in his cell; I was sure he was doing it on purpose, as a cruel irony. My slowly fading pulse got a few extra jumps in; I hoped he didn't notice my fear, as it would only spur him on. With my luck, he did.
“Or maybe I could just throttle you.” Both hands became wrapped around my throat, and he squeezed gently. It was enough to start cutting my breathing off, so by the time he took them away, I was gasping a bit.
“Or, if I got my hands on one of those excellent scalpels our captor must have lying around, I could slit your carotid artery: quick, and efficient-”
“Just pick one already!” I growled. “I get it, I’m at your mercy, blah, blah, blah!”
Jessup clucked his tongue, and furrowed his eyebrows at me.
“You've always had a mouth that was unable to close once it was opened, Wormwood. But don’t fear, I’ve already decided your death. And I intend for it to linger for as long as you’ve got left.”
With that, he stood up, and exited my cage, going into the one containing the leeches. Grabbing a nearby pair of tongs, he snatched up a couple, and, holding them at arm’s length, began meandering back to me. Somehow, my companions were so involved in handling Fleming, they noticed nothing. I tried to move, or cry out, or something, but I was so weak, it was nearly impossible.
Jessup entered the cage, and dangled the leeches over me; they began thrashing around eagerly, obviously smelling my blood.
"These leeches must be enchanted so that they can drink your type of blood," the demon observed. Since gargoyle blood has a temperature of over 128 degrees Fahrenheit, and gives severe burns to anyone who touches it, except other gargoyles, that did seem like the only plausible explanation.
Jessup suddenly lifted my hand off the hole in my gut. I was unable to do anything about it, because I was as weak as a baby sparrow. Dangling the leech-bearing tongs over my wound, he said, "You know, it's almost a shame you're going to die like this. You were my greatest opponent."
"Just get on with it, you plant-spawn!" I spat. For a demon, that is one of the worst insults you can call him without resorting to outright cursing. Apparently there's this old myth in their culture about a demon born from a union between his father and a woman born from a tree (reminiscent of a dryad), and when he was fully grown, he caused 1000 years of destruction of the demons somehow. So to call a demon plant-spawn (or son/daughter of a plant) is to ask for death. But since I was dying anyway, I figured I had nothing to lose, and might as well tick him off on my way out. Jessup lost the smirk; giving me a hate-filled glare, he began to lower the hungry leeches to the wound.
Without warning, he flew backwards, as if a giant hand had smacked him, slamming into the wall. The tongs (with the leeches still attached, thank goodness) were wrenched by something unseen out of his hand, and zoomed back into the tank.
"Oh, no you don't!" an angry female voice shouted. To my surprise, I recognized it as Calla! She marched over, hands clenched into tiny fists. Then she waved her left hand, and the cage containing the Ghul burst open. The creature scrambled out in terror, and fled the house. She let him go, and instead used her power to push Jessup into the cage, which relocked itself. After that, I didn't see any more of what was happening over there; suddenly Xen was by my side, staring down at me.
With all the willpower I could muster, and the last ounces of strength in my body, I reached up and touched her face, caressing it.
"You're beautiful, my angel," I whispered.
Sniffling, she croaked, "You keep getting yourself into the biggest messes, don't you, Tristan?"
Then, grasping my hand tightly in one of her her own for a moment, she tore open my shirt and quickly began making incisions throughout my chest cavity with her claws.
All right, so I lied about dying, as you may have realized from the fact that I am still writing this book; however, I do nearly die, which is close enough. And almost get attacked by leeches in the bargain.
The first thought that entered my head upon feeling the bullet hit me was: Ouch. It was followed a few seconds later by: He shot me! And then I felt it explode into two bits, which flew out my shoulders (one of the nastier habits of splatter bullets), thankfully missing my wings. I looked down, and saw a huge crimson burst spreading across the left side of my stomach, where the bullet had hit. I lifted my hand to try and staunch the blood flow, but it seemed like time was slowing down. My hand moved with all the speed of a glacier on the move, and was trembling like I had Parkinson’s disease. Finally, I pressed it onto the wound, which shot a wave of pain through me. It was about then that I realized I was falling, my knees collapsing under me.
As I hit the ground, ultimately landing on my back, I caught a glimpse of Calla, her white face covered in horror, screaming my name.
She really is quite fond of me, I remember thinking. Poor girl. I hope she doesn't blame herself for this, and that Xen will take care of her. I wonder what Fleming's doing right now.
With unbearable slowness, I rolled my eyes over in his direction, and saw him staring back at me, with a very nasty grin of triumph. He lifted the splatter gun, and cocked it at me. I got the impression that he was going to shoot me again, maybe in the heart this time. By some miracle, the last bullet had missed it, instead hitting what felt like several other important vital organs. I stared back at him, wanting to go out bravely. And then, I saw an angel above Fleming. She must have been an avenging angel, because she was dive-bombing him. A gray avenging angel, with furry wings, and red and brown hair.
"You-" the angel screamed, as she landed on Fleming, ripping the splatter gun out of his hand, "-do not touch-" her lavender eyes blazed with fury- "-MY BOYFRIEND!!!!"
Oh, Xen, I love you, I thought, smiling dazedly. I'm sorry about leaving you like this.
She slammed Fleming really hard in his already-wounded shoulder and arm; he screamed so agonizingly that I almost felt some semblance of pity from him. Xen was becoming quite vicious, hitting and tearing at him so quick and fast that he obviously couldn't even think about using his magic. Calla ran across the room, probably to keep her from doing any permanent damage. Dear Calla; she was so tenderhearted, even for the bad guy.
It was at that moment that Jessup woke up. He blinked, and then sat up, obviously confused. It appeared that Fleming's hypnotic hold on him had been broken, probably because he was so distracted at the moment. The demon looked over at the altercation going on, glanced down on the altar he was on-and then he saw me. He looked shocked, but then an expression of utter delight lit up his heavy-lidded eyes.
Uh-oh.
Slowly, Jessup got down from the altar, and, neatly sidestepping Xen, who was still trying to kill Fleming, and Calla, who was trying to get her back under control, he came over to my cage. He pulled open the door, and crouched down by my side.
"Well, well, well!" he purred. "In a spot of trouble, aren't you, Wormwood?"
"Oh, it’s not that bad," I croaked unconvincingly.
Jessup chuckled.
"It doesn't look like you'll last the night," he said, making polite conversation.
"Yeah, that's what they said about the Star-Spangled Banner," I shot back. My vision was becoming awfully hazy, which made it hard to see his stupid sideways smirk.
"True, true. But you're losing an awful lot of lifeblood, Wormwood. Far more than can be good for you."
He contemplated me for a moment, and then murmured, “There are so many ways I could kill you right now. I could, perhaps, break your neck, just like this.” He placed one hand on the top of my head, and the other around my throat. “I could jerk one hand left, the other right, and snap! No more you.” It was an echo of our conversation in his cell; I was sure he was doing it on purpose, as a cruel irony. My slowly fading pulse got a few extra jumps in; I hoped he didn't notice my fear, as it would only spur him on. With my luck, he did.
“Or maybe I could just throttle you.” Both hands became wrapped around my throat, and he squeezed gently. It was enough to start cutting my breathing off, so by the time he took them away, I was gasping a bit.
“Or, if I got my hands on one of those excellent scalpels our captor must have lying around, I could slit your carotid artery: quick, and efficient-”
“Just pick one already!” I growled. “I get it, I’m at your mercy, blah, blah, blah!”
Jessup clucked his tongue, and furrowed his eyebrows at me.
“You've always had a mouth that was unable to close once it was opened, Wormwood. But don’t fear, I’ve already decided your death. And I intend for it to linger for as long as you’ve got left.”
With that, he stood up, and exited my cage, going into the one containing the leeches. Grabbing a nearby pair of tongs, he snatched up a couple, and, holding them at arm’s length, began meandering back to me. Somehow, my companions were so involved in handling Fleming, they noticed nothing. I tried to move, or cry out, or something, but I was so weak, it was nearly impossible.
Jessup entered the cage, and dangled the leeches over me; they began thrashing around eagerly, obviously smelling my blood.
"These leeches must be enchanted so that they can drink your type of blood," the demon observed. Since gargoyle blood has a temperature of over 128 degrees Fahrenheit, and gives severe burns to anyone who touches it, except other gargoyles, that did seem like the only plausible explanation.
Jessup suddenly lifted my hand off the hole in my gut. I was unable to do anything about it, because I was as weak as a baby sparrow. Dangling the leech-bearing tongs over my wound, he said, "You know, it's almost a shame you're going to die like this. You were my greatest opponent."
"Just get on with it, you plant-spawn!" I spat. For a demon, that is one of the worst insults you can call him without resorting to outright cursing. Apparently there's this old myth in their culture about a demon born from a union between his father and a woman born from a tree (reminiscent of a dryad), and when he was fully grown, he caused 1000 years of destruction of the demons somehow. So to call a demon plant-spawn (or son/daughter of a plant) is to ask for death. But since I was dying anyway, I figured I had nothing to lose, and might as well tick him off on my way out. Jessup lost the smirk; giving me a hate-filled glare, he began to lower the hungry leeches to the wound.
Without warning, he flew backwards, as if a giant hand had smacked him, slamming into the wall. The tongs (with the leeches still attached, thank goodness) were wrenched by something unseen out of his hand, and zoomed back into the tank.
"Oh, no you don't!" an angry female voice shouted. To my surprise, I recognized it as Calla! She marched over, hands clenched into tiny fists. Then she waved her left hand, and the cage containing the Ghul burst open. The creature scrambled out in terror, and fled the house. She let him go, and instead used her power to push Jessup into the cage, which relocked itself. After that, I didn't see any more of what was happening over there; suddenly Xen was by my side, staring down at me.
With all the willpower I could muster, and the last ounces of strength in my body, I reached up and touched her face, caressing it.
"You're beautiful, my angel," I whispered.
Sniffling, she croaked, "You keep getting yourself into the biggest messes, don't you, Tristan?"
Then, grasping my hand tightly in one of her her own for a moment, she tore open my shirt and quickly began making incisions throughout my chest cavity with her claws.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
TANSTAV part 34
We interrupt this program, again, for the sole purpose of annoying you and keeping you in suspense about what happens next while we force you to read our explanation about werewolves.
The first thing you ought to know about werewolves is that, all that information you've heard or read about them only being vulnerable to silver, silver bullets, and/or wolfsbane? Stuff and nonsense. Eating recently buried corpses? Myth. Unibrows, curved nails, red hair and blue eyes? Not necessarily signs of one. In fact, the only things mythology and classic horror pictures seem to have gotten right are that werewolves become wolves every full moon, their eyes and hair are the same colors as in human form, and they transmit the curse through biting others. Another few symptoms that makes them easier to recognize are longer canine teeth, lessened inhibitions, hyperactivity on the day of the full moon, and a strong preference for having their meat cooked rare. Other than that, they can typically fit in with normal human society.
There seems to be no cure for lycanthropy, and it can be kind of dangerous. For example, if a werewolf bites someone while still in human form, it can lead to the bitten person turning into a biped, hybrid wolf-human creature during the full moon. Regardless of whether they become a full or a half wolf, the transformation process is very painful, and makes them become very savage in wolf form. The best thing for werewolves to do during the full moon is to go deep into any nearby forest, so that they won't bite anyone, except maybe a few deer and rabbits. The only known incident of a werewolf-deer or -rabbit was after the Tunguska explosion, when a whole lot of things went haywire. Thankfully, the deformed animals were soon tracked down and taken care of by the monster world-no, that doesn't mean killed, it means taken to a monster community and hidden from the humans.
Some werewolves let their new species control them, and can become very out of hand. They start acting on instincts more, and can get together and form packs of savages, because they ignore the fact that wolves are generally peaceful creatures.
Mages and alchemists have struggled to find a cure, but lately, there has been some protest about their efforts. Many werewolves in this era have begun to see it as a difference in life, not a disability. They argue that to try and get rid of werewolves is to get rid of a way of life, which they have become accustomed to, and even enjoy. Their senses and physical strength increase as a result of being bitten, they suddenly have their own 'packs' who understand what they are going through, and all it takes is a small sacrifice of a little pain, and one night every month that is not their own. To them, it's worth it. Weirdos.
And now, back to our program.
The first thing you ought to know about werewolves is that, all that information you've heard or read about them only being vulnerable to silver, silver bullets, and/or wolfsbane? Stuff and nonsense. Eating recently buried corpses? Myth. Unibrows, curved nails, red hair and blue eyes? Not necessarily signs of one. In fact, the only things mythology and classic horror pictures seem to have gotten right are that werewolves become wolves every full moon, their eyes and hair are the same colors as in human form, and they transmit the curse through biting others. Another few symptoms that makes them easier to recognize are longer canine teeth, lessened inhibitions, hyperactivity on the day of the full moon, and a strong preference for having their meat cooked rare. Other than that, they can typically fit in with normal human society.
There seems to be no cure for lycanthropy, and it can be kind of dangerous. For example, if a werewolf bites someone while still in human form, it can lead to the bitten person turning into a biped, hybrid wolf-human creature during the full moon. Regardless of whether they become a full or a half wolf, the transformation process is very painful, and makes them become very savage in wolf form. The best thing for werewolves to do during the full moon is to go deep into any nearby forest, so that they won't bite anyone, except maybe a few deer and rabbits. The only known incident of a werewolf-deer or -rabbit was after the Tunguska explosion, when a whole lot of things went haywire. Thankfully, the deformed animals were soon tracked down and taken care of by the monster world-no, that doesn't mean killed, it means taken to a monster community and hidden from the humans.
Some werewolves let their new species control them, and can become very out of hand. They start acting on instincts more, and can get together and form packs of savages, because they ignore the fact that wolves are generally peaceful creatures.
Mages and alchemists have struggled to find a cure, but lately, there has been some protest about their efforts. Many werewolves in this era have begun to see it as a difference in life, not a disability. They argue that to try and get rid of werewolves is to get rid of a way of life, which they have become accustomed to, and even enjoy. Their senses and physical strength increase as a result of being bitten, they suddenly have their own 'packs' who understand what they are going through, and all it takes is a small sacrifice of a little pain, and one night every month that is not their own. To them, it's worth it. Weirdos.
And now, back to our program.
TANSTAV part 33
Chapter 9 part 4
Well, at least he was being honest with us. But the fact that I would receive a commendation for contributing to this maniac's plan did not improve my morale, oddly enough. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure some people find the prospect of having their life force drained in order to create a vampire a very intriguing, even enjoyable idea. However, I have a low tolerance for having my life force drained, especially if its purpose is for ultimate world domination. I'm just conservative like that.
Not only that, but I could see some extreme flaws in Fleming's plan. And, feeling I had nothing to lose, I took the opportunity to point them out.
"...So, what happens when we run out of humans?"
Fleming frowned uncomprehendingly.
"Huh?"
"Well, according to the myths, humans are the natural food source of vampires. If, as you say, you plan on turning the whole human race into vampires, then what are they supposed to eat? I suppose they could feed on animals, but with that many of them in the world, and such a limited supply of animals to compensate, soon there'd be none left, and then they'd have to resort to us. How well have you thought this through? I mean, since you started this with the best interests of monsters at heart, to suddenly have your creations start depending on our blood to survive is kind of-"
"SHUT UP!" bellowed Fleming. "I'll worry about that when the time comes!"
Which was code for, 'I haven't thought about that possibility, but there's no way I'm going to admit it to you, annoying person who just made me look stupid'. I should know; I've used that code before.
It was at that point that I suddenly realized that the ropes, though unbreakable, were not un-slip-out-able. I figured this out by the fact that as I was shifting my hands, I suddenly found that my left thumb was free.
This is great!
Taking the opportunity, I began working on wiggling the rest of my hand out too. Meanwhile, Fleming made a gesture with the bandaged hand, wincing as he did so, and Jessup slowly went to his side. He handed over the splatter gun, and at Fleming's command, he lay down on the altar, hands folded across his chest. I almost felt sorry for him; he was about to be used to create a monster that would annihilate mankind, and he probably didn't even know what was happening. Then I remembered what he had almost done to Xen, and my pity instantly subsided. I went back to concentrating on freeing myself.
Over in the corner, Xen and Calla were not standing idly by, like you'd expect of damsels in distress (believe me, they are anything but). They were standing back to back, and trying to untie each other. Since nobody was taking any notice of them at the moment, now seemed as good a time as any. Needless to say, I did not draw Fleming's attention to the situation. Speak of the devil, he was now pulling a chain that opened a hole in his roof (with the ends of the lightning rods poking through), revealing that the storm had reached its height.
"Perfect conditions!" he cried enthusiastically. "A storm with thunder and lightning, yet on a night when the moon is full! An exact replication of the experiments of President Newman! Now to charge the spell with lightning, add my modifications, and then it will begin!"
Carefully, he levitated the spell into the air, until it was directly below the hole. Then there was a short wait, during which I was able to get my left hand all the way free. After that, it was a simple matter of pulling the loop of rope off my right wrist. But for the time being, just for a moment, I stayed where and how I was, with my hands behind me. I was idly curious as to what would happen.
Finally, I heard the sharp retort of lightning striking the rods (Two bolts at once, in almost the same place? That’s a coincidence that pretty much only ever occurs in the places where monsters live) and sizzling down, to hit the spell, which suddenly turned a brighter shade of green, and looked a lot healthier. Without needing any assistance from Fleming, the ball of light zoomed down, and hovered over the recumbent Jessup. Fleming stood by the altar's side, smiling with glee. Calla, now free of her ropes, started forward, but Xen grabbed her and held her back.
"No!" I heard her cry over a roar of thunder. "It could kill you if you went in there now! It's never a good idea to enter a pentacle when a spell's taking place!"
"But what do we do? He'll be killed!" Calla wailed.
Xen looked despairingly over at me. To her evident surprise, I smiled at her, and mouthed the words, "It'll be fine!" In all likelihood, she thought I was either trying to reassure her by lying through my teeth, or I had lost my mind.
The spell left the altar, and began circling the pentacle, testing it to make sure it was sound. It zoomed around the five points of the star, skimming the ground once in a while, reveling in its new life-and then it stopped. Fleming looked startled. He made as if to approach-and, remembering where he was, froze. He couldn't leave the pentagon that was the center of the star, because that would expose him to whatever damage the spell could inflict on him. The spell in question was hovering tentatively over one particular spot on the pentacle; if it had been alive, and given to emotions, I would have said that it was perturbed. If you looked closer, you would see why: there, marring the perfect chalk circle, were five drag marks, creating a small set of holes in the pentacle.
You forgot about my stumble earlier, didn't you? Well, believe it or not, even with my hands tied, I'm not that clumsy when the situation is serious. I'd remembered that you have to be careful with spells in pentacles; they are very delicate, and if the pentacles or spells are messed up even the tiniest bit, it can destroy the whole thing. I've even heard horror stories of screwed-up spells in pentacles turning on those who cast them, and obliterating them into nasty, slimy blobs of goo. While I didn't necessarily thoroughly wish that on Fleming, it would certainly make fixing this whole mess a lot easier.
Suddenly, the spell went berserk. It began leaping and jumping around the room, smashing into the walls (because of the flaw in the pentacle, it could leave), smacking into the ceiling and floor, just hitting everything it could-though, unfortunately, missing both the insane mage and the demon, but fortunately missing me and my companions. An utterly horrified Fleming tried to intervene, to use his magic to capture and subdue the spell, but to no avail. Old and senile as it was, it had soon beat itself to pieces of residue, lying here and there throughout the room. We all (except Jessup, who was still hypnotized) stared aghast at the remains of what had been one of the most controversial spells of our time. My historian's heart bled for it, and asked President Newman to forgive me for this desecration (though his soul, may it rest in peace, probably rejoiced at the destruction of his great folly).
"How could this happen?!" howled Fleming, clutching his hands to his head, wincing with pain because it involved moving his damaged arm and shoulder. "How?! What did I-"
He stopped, as his bulging eyes noticed the dragged-through part of the pentacle. Suddenly looking a little murderous, he turned to me, and looked down, seeing the white dusting of chalk on the claws of my left foot.
I shrugged and gave a sort of grin.
"Oops."
Fleming was not appeased.
"YOU!" he screeched. "YOU FILTHY, DESTRUCTIVE, SPELL-WRECKING _________________ INTERFERING ______________ LOUSY__________ SON OF ___!"
A lot of the vile epithets he cried out are ones I would rather not repeat. Let us just leave it at the fact that they were mostly very opprobrious remarks, some of which were not particularly realistic or anatomically possible. I noticed Calla wincing and covering her ears. Good, she was far too young to be hearing that kind of language. In fact, it was stuff that nobody should ever have to hear. I think it was about then that Fleming grabbed up one of the splatter guns and shot me.
Well, at least he was being honest with us. But the fact that I would receive a commendation for contributing to this maniac's plan did not improve my morale, oddly enough. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure some people find the prospect of having their life force drained in order to create a vampire a very intriguing, even enjoyable idea. However, I have a low tolerance for having my life force drained, especially if its purpose is for ultimate world domination. I'm just conservative like that.
Not only that, but I could see some extreme flaws in Fleming's plan. And, feeling I had nothing to lose, I took the opportunity to point them out.
"...So, what happens when we run out of humans?"
Fleming frowned uncomprehendingly.
"Huh?"
"Well, according to the myths, humans are the natural food source of vampires. If, as you say, you plan on turning the whole human race into vampires, then what are they supposed to eat? I suppose they could feed on animals, but with that many of them in the world, and such a limited supply of animals to compensate, soon there'd be none left, and then they'd have to resort to us. How well have you thought this through? I mean, since you started this with the best interests of monsters at heart, to suddenly have your creations start depending on our blood to survive is kind of-"
"SHUT UP!" bellowed Fleming. "I'll worry about that when the time comes!"
Which was code for, 'I haven't thought about that possibility, but there's no way I'm going to admit it to you, annoying person who just made me look stupid'. I should know; I've used that code before.
It was at that point that I suddenly realized that the ropes, though unbreakable, were not un-slip-out-able. I figured this out by the fact that as I was shifting my hands, I suddenly found that my left thumb was free.
This is great!
Taking the opportunity, I began working on wiggling the rest of my hand out too. Meanwhile, Fleming made a gesture with the bandaged hand, wincing as he did so, and Jessup slowly went to his side. He handed over the splatter gun, and at Fleming's command, he lay down on the altar, hands folded across his chest. I almost felt sorry for him; he was about to be used to create a monster that would annihilate mankind, and he probably didn't even know what was happening. Then I remembered what he had almost done to Xen, and my pity instantly subsided. I went back to concentrating on freeing myself.
Over in the corner, Xen and Calla were not standing idly by, like you'd expect of damsels in distress (believe me, they are anything but). They were standing back to back, and trying to untie each other. Since nobody was taking any notice of them at the moment, now seemed as good a time as any. Needless to say, I did not draw Fleming's attention to the situation. Speak of the devil, he was now pulling a chain that opened a hole in his roof (with the ends of the lightning rods poking through), revealing that the storm had reached its height.
"Perfect conditions!" he cried enthusiastically. "A storm with thunder and lightning, yet on a night when the moon is full! An exact replication of the experiments of President Newman! Now to charge the spell with lightning, add my modifications, and then it will begin!"
Carefully, he levitated the spell into the air, until it was directly below the hole. Then there was a short wait, during which I was able to get my left hand all the way free. After that, it was a simple matter of pulling the loop of rope off my right wrist. But for the time being, just for a moment, I stayed where and how I was, with my hands behind me. I was idly curious as to what would happen.
Finally, I heard the sharp retort of lightning striking the rods (Two bolts at once, in almost the same place? That’s a coincidence that pretty much only ever occurs in the places where monsters live) and sizzling down, to hit the spell, which suddenly turned a brighter shade of green, and looked a lot healthier. Without needing any assistance from Fleming, the ball of light zoomed down, and hovered over the recumbent Jessup. Fleming stood by the altar's side, smiling with glee. Calla, now free of her ropes, started forward, but Xen grabbed her and held her back.
"No!" I heard her cry over a roar of thunder. "It could kill you if you went in there now! It's never a good idea to enter a pentacle when a spell's taking place!"
"But what do we do? He'll be killed!" Calla wailed.
Xen looked despairingly over at me. To her evident surprise, I smiled at her, and mouthed the words, "It'll be fine!" In all likelihood, she thought I was either trying to reassure her by lying through my teeth, or I had lost my mind.
The spell left the altar, and began circling the pentacle, testing it to make sure it was sound. It zoomed around the five points of the star, skimming the ground once in a while, reveling in its new life-and then it stopped. Fleming looked startled. He made as if to approach-and, remembering where he was, froze. He couldn't leave the pentagon that was the center of the star, because that would expose him to whatever damage the spell could inflict on him. The spell in question was hovering tentatively over one particular spot on the pentacle; if it had been alive, and given to emotions, I would have said that it was perturbed. If you looked closer, you would see why: there, marring the perfect chalk circle, were five drag marks, creating a small set of holes in the pentacle.
You forgot about my stumble earlier, didn't you? Well, believe it or not, even with my hands tied, I'm not that clumsy when the situation is serious. I'd remembered that you have to be careful with spells in pentacles; they are very delicate, and if the pentacles or spells are messed up even the tiniest bit, it can destroy the whole thing. I've even heard horror stories of screwed-up spells in pentacles turning on those who cast them, and obliterating them into nasty, slimy blobs of goo. While I didn't necessarily thoroughly wish that on Fleming, it would certainly make fixing this whole mess a lot easier.
Suddenly, the spell went berserk. It began leaping and jumping around the room, smashing into the walls (because of the flaw in the pentacle, it could leave), smacking into the ceiling and floor, just hitting everything it could-though, unfortunately, missing both the insane mage and the demon, but fortunately missing me and my companions. An utterly horrified Fleming tried to intervene, to use his magic to capture and subdue the spell, but to no avail. Old and senile as it was, it had soon beat itself to pieces of residue, lying here and there throughout the room. We all (except Jessup, who was still hypnotized) stared aghast at the remains of what had been one of the most controversial spells of our time. My historian's heart bled for it, and asked President Newman to forgive me for this desecration (though his soul, may it rest in peace, probably rejoiced at the destruction of his great folly).
"How could this happen?!" howled Fleming, clutching his hands to his head, wincing with pain because it involved moving his damaged arm and shoulder. "How?! What did I-"
He stopped, as his bulging eyes noticed the dragged-through part of the pentacle. Suddenly looking a little murderous, he turned to me, and looked down, seeing the white dusting of chalk on the claws of my left foot.
I shrugged and gave a sort of grin.
"Oops."
Fleming was not appeased.
"YOU!" he screeched. "YOU FILTHY, DESTRUCTIVE, SPELL-WRECKING _________________ INTERFERING ______________ LOUSY__________ SON OF ___!"
A lot of the vile epithets he cried out are ones I would rather not repeat. Let us just leave it at the fact that they were mostly very opprobrious remarks, some of which were not particularly realistic or anatomically possible. I noticed Calla wincing and covering her ears. Good, she was far too young to be hearing that kind of language. In fact, it was stuff that nobody should ever have to hear. I think it was about then that Fleming grabbed up one of the splatter guns and shot me.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
TANSTAV part 32
Chapter 9 part 3
I think he expected us to gasp in horror, or applaud him (though how we could do so tied up was beyond me), or something like that. Instead, Xen asked incredulously, "What?", Calla inquired, "Do they not exist?", and I said, "Dude, you are even crazier than Colin Newman."
(Colin Newman: our fourteenth president, and an alchemist. Was in charge at the same time as Abraham Lincoln was for the humans, though lasted a great deal longer than he. Nearly impeached in 1865 for trying to create zombies using the corpses of Civil War soldiers. Though in the name of science, his actions were voted to be unethical, as people thought it best to let the dead rest in peace. His wife finally persuaded him that what he was doing was a really bad idea. That, combined with the fact that his experiments nearly resulted in two of his children being electrocuted to death, caused him to suffer a nervous breakdown, and retire before he could begin his second term. Also passed two bills before leaving the presidency: one making necromancy illegal, the other allowing any monsters to do experiments with science and magic, as long as they were not harmful to other creatures. All in all, not a bad guy, but maybe too obsessed with dabbling in the secrets of life and death. Has his face on our five-dollar bill and penny.)
Fleming flushed with anger at my slight to his sanity.
"Newman was a coward and a failure! He didn't have the courage to press on with his work! I, however, shall succeed where he failed! For I have actually discovered the secret of instilling life in a dead man, and creating a vampire!"
Like any really psycho villain, Fleming could not resist the opportunity to tell us his evil plan, and how he had come to think of it, in complete graphic detail. Despite the precariousness of the situation, I found myself rolling my eyes. He continued, "It is fitting that you should mention him, actually. About a year ago, I was visiting his old house, and by chance, wound up in the attic. It was there, amongst the exhibits, that I discovered the original spell he had been using to try and give his creations life!"
He reached behind the altar, and withdrew a large, glowing ball of light. It was definitely magic, but it was the sorriest piece of magic I'd ever seen; a sickly shade of green, going black and white in some places, and barely with any glow to it at all.
"You'd think he'd want to reabsorb the energy he'd emitted doing that," I murmured.
"No," called Xen, "He didn't want that back in his body, he felt so guilty about what he'd done. It was part of the reason why it took him so long to recover from his breakdown."
"Huh. Wonder why he never destroyed it, then. And nobody noticed that you'd taken it?"
"Nobody. I used many concealment spells; you may have realized my great skill with them, Wormwood."
"Yeah, I did. But wasn't Newman trying to create zombies? Won't that mess with your idea?"
"Not at all! I'm going to adjust it to accommodate with my desires!"
It seemed like this guy had an answer for everything. He was still in a talking mood, which also seemed to be stalling him from his goal, so I finally asked the big question that had been gnawing at me: "Why, Fleming? What are you trying to prove?"
"Haven't you realized, Wormwood?" Fleming stared at me, his eyes protruding even more than usual. "I'm doing this for the benefit of monster kind! After this, we won't have to hide anymore, because the world will be populated by nothing but monsters!"
"Oh?" I glanced over at my comrades, who looked as shocked as I was. Even without looking in Calla's eyes, I could read her thoughts: this guy was a loony.
"Yes! When my vampire comes alive, he will feel a raging thirst for blood, and will go out into the world, drinking that of any human he sees; either they will die, or they will become vampires like himself. Then they will make more of their kind, and more, until soon, the entire world will be covered with vampires! Don't you see?" he pleaded (yes, that was the right word for it, oddly enough), "We won't need to hide! No more concealing ourselves from humans, because there will be no humans left! We shall be free!"
"Except for me, Xen, Calla, and these other nice people you're holding prisoner," I pointed out.
"Well, yes. In fact, because this spell is going to drain your life force to contribute to the creation of the vampire, it will undoubtedly kill you. But your cooperation will be duly noted, after I become supreme ruler of the world!"
I think he expected us to gasp in horror, or applaud him (though how we could do so tied up was beyond me), or something like that. Instead, Xen asked incredulously, "What?", Calla inquired, "Do they not exist?", and I said, "Dude, you are even crazier than Colin Newman."
(Colin Newman: our fourteenth president, and an alchemist. Was in charge at the same time as Abraham Lincoln was for the humans, though lasted a great deal longer than he. Nearly impeached in 1865 for trying to create zombies using the corpses of Civil War soldiers. Though in the name of science, his actions were voted to be unethical, as people thought it best to let the dead rest in peace. His wife finally persuaded him that what he was doing was a really bad idea. That, combined with the fact that his experiments nearly resulted in two of his children being electrocuted to death, caused him to suffer a nervous breakdown, and retire before he could begin his second term. Also passed two bills before leaving the presidency: one making necromancy illegal, the other allowing any monsters to do experiments with science and magic, as long as they were not harmful to other creatures. All in all, not a bad guy, but maybe too obsessed with dabbling in the secrets of life and death. Has his face on our five-dollar bill and penny.)
Fleming flushed with anger at my slight to his sanity.
"Newman was a coward and a failure! He didn't have the courage to press on with his work! I, however, shall succeed where he failed! For I have actually discovered the secret of instilling life in a dead man, and creating a vampire!"
Like any really psycho villain, Fleming could not resist the opportunity to tell us his evil plan, and how he had come to think of it, in complete graphic detail. Despite the precariousness of the situation, I found myself rolling my eyes. He continued, "It is fitting that you should mention him, actually. About a year ago, I was visiting his old house, and by chance, wound up in the attic. It was there, amongst the exhibits, that I discovered the original spell he had been using to try and give his creations life!"
He reached behind the altar, and withdrew a large, glowing ball of light. It was definitely magic, but it was the sorriest piece of magic I'd ever seen; a sickly shade of green, going black and white in some places, and barely with any glow to it at all.
"You'd think he'd want to reabsorb the energy he'd emitted doing that," I murmured.
"No," called Xen, "He didn't want that back in his body, he felt so guilty about what he'd done. It was part of the reason why it took him so long to recover from his breakdown."
"Huh. Wonder why he never destroyed it, then. And nobody noticed that you'd taken it?"
"Nobody. I used many concealment spells; you may have realized my great skill with them, Wormwood."
"Yeah, I did. But wasn't Newman trying to create zombies? Won't that mess with your idea?"
"Not at all! I'm going to adjust it to accommodate with my desires!"
It seemed like this guy had an answer for everything. He was still in a talking mood, which also seemed to be stalling him from his goal, so I finally asked the big question that had been gnawing at me: "Why, Fleming? What are you trying to prove?"
"Haven't you realized, Wormwood?" Fleming stared at me, his eyes protruding even more than usual. "I'm doing this for the benefit of monster kind! After this, we won't have to hide anymore, because the world will be populated by nothing but monsters!"
"Oh?" I glanced over at my comrades, who looked as shocked as I was. Even without looking in Calla's eyes, I could read her thoughts: this guy was a loony.
"Yes! When my vampire comes alive, he will feel a raging thirst for blood, and will go out into the world, drinking that of any human he sees; either they will die, or they will become vampires like himself. Then they will make more of their kind, and more, until soon, the entire world will be covered with vampires! Don't you see?" he pleaded (yes, that was the right word for it, oddly enough), "We won't need to hide! No more concealing ourselves from humans, because there will be no humans left! We shall be free!"
"Except for me, Xen, Calla, and these other nice people you're holding prisoner," I pointed out.
"Well, yes. In fact, because this spell is going to drain your life force to contribute to the creation of the vampire, it will undoubtedly kill you. But your cooperation will be duly noted, after I become supreme ruler of the world!"
Sunday, October 21, 2012
TANSTAV part 31
Chapter 9 part 2
I wasn't sure whether or not to be glad there was no one else around. Because on the one hand, it meant we were going into the lion's den unprotected, and nobody would know where we were; on the other hand, if there was anyone who happened to see us, and Fleming noticed, he would probably kill or capture them, too. So maybe it was for the best.
We were taken at gunpoint into his house (it looked like any other house on the street, except for the fact that it had two lightning rods instead of one-odd), and then had to stand against the wall in the hallway while Jessup tied our hands behind us, with enchanted unbreakable ropes. I hated feeling so helpless; it reminded me too much of back when I had been living with my parents, and at my father's mercy, so to speak. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why hadn't I looked for the possibility of a trap?!
It's because you're too impulsive, Tristan, the nagging voice at the back of my head said. You need to learn to use your head for something other than to hold up your ears!
Shut up, I told it. This isn't helping.
Well, what do you want me to say?
I don't want you to say anything. Didn't you hear me just tell you to shut up?
At that moment, Jessup shoved me in the back with the gun, ending (temporarily) my internal conversation. Must have been very frustrating for him, having me within his grasp, and unable to do what he wanted to me, merely acting under the orders of a crazed mage. That is, if he was even aware of anything that was happening. You never can tell with hypnotized people.
The five of us left the hall, and entered the living room-only the living room was gone. The furniture had all been moved out, and the place was basically bare, except for what looked like a sacrificial altar in the center of the room, surrounded by five cages. Inside two of the cages were the senator, and the Fonin! Both of them looked the worse for wear; they had lost weight, and were distinctly shabby. They stood at the bars of their cages, staring woefully out at us. Two other cages contained a Ghul, and some small, strange, dark creatures of the phylum Annelida inside a glass container full of water. The fifth cage was empty. Something about their positioning made me wonder...I looked down, and saw that the cages were set at each of the points of a colossal star drawn by chalk, inside of a giant circle.
You have got to be kidding, I thought. This guy is using a pentacle!
(In magical jargon, a pentacle is a symbol of a star inside a circle, and apparently has magic properties. Can be used for summoning things, among other dark rituals. Very commonly used during the Renaissance and medieval ages. There has been some doubt as to their effectiveness, as they are very unwieldy objects.)
Fleming gestured to Jessup, who began leading Xen and Calla over to a wall by the side of the pentacle. Thinking maybe he'd forgotten me, I began to follow.
"Not you, Wormwood," said Fleming. "You come over here." He gestured to the fifth cage.
"What? Why me?"
"Why did you think I tried to kidnap your girlfriend?" he asked disdainfully.
"Uh, technically, she's not my girlfriend, and I assumed it was for whatever you were doing to the others," I replied. I was beginning to see where this was going.
Ignoring me, he continued, "It was to get to you. I needed you to complete this experiment, and knew you would do anything to keep her safe."
"Why couldn't you just use Xen?" I asked, staying where I was.
Looking impatient and annoyed, Fleming gestured to the cage imperiously with the splatter gun.
"I wasn't going to use her dirty half-breed blood! I need a full gargoyle, and you were the closest one available! Now get in the cage BEFORE I HAVE JESSUP BLOW HER AND THE GIRL'S BRAINS OUT!!!!"
I gritted my fangs at the slight to Xen's heritage, but I slowly went to the cage, stumbling a little on my way.
Once inside the cage (which he neglected to lock, probably because I was bound), I asked, "Before you do-whatever it is, can I ask what you are planning to do to us?"
Fleming grinned wickedly, taking the opportunity to rub his wounded side.
"You, my dear Wormwood, are going to be the final piece in this great revolution of mine. I now have the strength of a troll, the shapeshifting powers of a Fonin, the fangs and tracking ability of a Ghul, the near-impenetrable skin of a gargoyle, and the bloodthirstiness of leeches!"
"What about Jessup?" I asked, gesturing over to him with my head. He was still guarding the girls, his face still blank. You know, without his sardonic grin, he was a bit nicer-looking.
"The demon? I need his body."
I raised my eyebrow.
"Does that sound as disturbing to you two as it does to me?" I asked the girls. Xen nodded, while Calla just stood there, looking frightened.
Fleming glared at me.
"He is going to be the host."
"For what?"
"Using all six of you," he said, gesturing to my fellow prisoners and the demon, "I am going to create," his voice rose to an incredible pitch in his excitement, "A VAMPIRE!"
I wasn't sure whether or not to be glad there was no one else around. Because on the one hand, it meant we were going into the lion's den unprotected, and nobody would know where we were; on the other hand, if there was anyone who happened to see us, and Fleming noticed, he would probably kill or capture them, too. So maybe it was for the best.
We were taken at gunpoint into his house (it looked like any other house on the street, except for the fact that it had two lightning rods instead of one-odd), and then had to stand against the wall in the hallway while Jessup tied our hands behind us, with enchanted unbreakable ropes. I hated feeling so helpless; it reminded me too much of back when I had been living with my parents, and at my father's mercy, so to speak. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why hadn't I looked for the possibility of a trap?!
It's because you're too impulsive, Tristan, the nagging voice at the back of my head said. You need to learn to use your head for something other than to hold up your ears!
Shut up, I told it. This isn't helping.
Well, what do you want me to say?
I don't want you to say anything. Didn't you hear me just tell you to shut up?
At that moment, Jessup shoved me in the back with the gun, ending (temporarily) my internal conversation. Must have been very frustrating for him, having me within his grasp, and unable to do what he wanted to me, merely acting under the orders of a crazed mage. That is, if he was even aware of anything that was happening. You never can tell with hypnotized people.
The five of us left the hall, and entered the living room-only the living room was gone. The furniture had all been moved out, and the place was basically bare, except for what looked like a sacrificial altar in the center of the room, surrounded by five cages. Inside two of the cages were the senator, and the Fonin! Both of them looked the worse for wear; they had lost weight, and were distinctly shabby. They stood at the bars of their cages, staring woefully out at us. Two other cages contained a Ghul, and some small, strange, dark creatures of the phylum Annelida inside a glass container full of water. The fifth cage was empty. Something about their positioning made me wonder...I looked down, and saw that the cages were set at each of the points of a colossal star drawn by chalk, inside of a giant circle.
You have got to be kidding, I thought. This guy is using a pentacle!
(In magical jargon, a pentacle is a symbol of a star inside a circle, and apparently has magic properties. Can be used for summoning things, among other dark rituals. Very commonly used during the Renaissance and medieval ages. There has been some doubt as to their effectiveness, as they are very unwieldy objects.)
Fleming gestured to Jessup, who began leading Xen and Calla over to a wall by the side of the pentacle. Thinking maybe he'd forgotten me, I began to follow.
"Not you, Wormwood," said Fleming. "You come over here." He gestured to the fifth cage.
"What? Why me?"
"Why did you think I tried to kidnap your girlfriend?" he asked disdainfully.
"Uh, technically, she's not my girlfriend, and I assumed it was for whatever you were doing to the others," I replied. I was beginning to see where this was going.
Ignoring me, he continued, "It was to get to you. I needed you to complete this experiment, and knew you would do anything to keep her safe."
"Why couldn't you just use Xen?" I asked, staying where I was.
Looking impatient and annoyed, Fleming gestured to the cage imperiously with the splatter gun.
"I wasn't going to use her dirty half-breed blood! I need a full gargoyle, and you were the closest one available! Now get in the cage BEFORE I HAVE JESSUP BLOW HER AND THE GIRL'S BRAINS OUT!!!!"
I gritted my fangs at the slight to Xen's heritage, but I slowly went to the cage, stumbling a little on my way.
Once inside the cage (which he neglected to lock, probably because I was bound), I asked, "Before you do-whatever it is, can I ask what you are planning to do to us?"
Fleming grinned wickedly, taking the opportunity to rub his wounded side.
"You, my dear Wormwood, are going to be the final piece in this great revolution of mine. I now have the strength of a troll, the shapeshifting powers of a Fonin, the fangs and tracking ability of a Ghul, the near-impenetrable skin of a gargoyle, and the bloodthirstiness of leeches!"
"What about Jessup?" I asked, gesturing over to him with my head. He was still guarding the girls, his face still blank. You know, without his sardonic grin, he was a bit nicer-looking.
"The demon? I need his body."
I raised my eyebrow.
"Does that sound as disturbing to you two as it does to me?" I asked the girls. Xen nodded, while Calla just stood there, looking frightened.
Fleming glared at me.
"He is going to be the host."
"For what?"
"Using all six of you," he said, gesturing to my fellow prisoners and the demon, "I am going to create," his voice rose to an incredible pitch in his excitement, "A VAMPIRE!"
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
TANSTAV part 30
Chapter Nine
In which we discover the horrible truth, and then I die
Calla showed Xen next; then we all looked at each other.
"I didn't see this coming," I finally said. "Did you?"
Both girls shook their heads. Though, as I thought about it, it began to make more sense. I remembered that when I had been on the Skald property, I had caught a familiar scent in the air, before Jessup’s footprints distracted me. It was only now that I recalled whose smell it had been: Fleming’s (yes, it was Fleming. I congratulate you if you were able to successfully guess that it was him). There was only one logical explanation for why he had been at the crime scene just as it was being committed, and I was staring it in the face.
“So,” asked Calla, “what do we do now?”
“We confront him,” I replied. “We’re not the official police, but we can still capture him and bring him in.”
"Okay."
However, for several moments, we just sat there in silence. We were all a little...hesitant to make the first move. Not that we were scared or anything. It was just that actually confronting this guy made us a tad nervous. In the end, I was the first to get up. And, leaving the evidence there, we exited the forensics room, and went out into the main lobby.
I saw Morty sitting at his desk, typing on his computer, bobbing his head in time with whatever music was playing through his iPod.
"Hi, Tristan," he said, looking up.
"Hey. How're things going?"
"Not too bad. Only a minimal amount of killings, thefts, etc. this week. Xen, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Good. How's your missing person investigation going, Tristan?”
"I might have a lead. I just need to get help from-" I glanced around the station. "Where's Fleming?"
"He hasn't been in. Apparently he got in an accident of some kind, had to stay home."
I and Xen both tried not to snort. Oh, he’d gotten in an accident, all right. If you called being stabbed with a palette knife by a young woman trying to defend herself against you an accident.
Unconcerned, and apparently not even curious as to why we wanted Fleming, the Reaper began playing solitaire on the computer.
“Thanks,” I said as we went away. He grunted slightly.
Fleming lived on the southeast side of Styxburg, at 666 Shelley Avenue. It would be easiest to get there by flying, but there was the problem of Calla, who couldn't fly, and also that there seemed to be a storm coming; to fly in that kind of weather would be potentially suicidal. So we took the bus. It was a rather long drive, which gave me time to think that maybe we should have gotten police backup, since this guy was obviously dangerous. Well, Morty knew where we were going...then I remembered that he had been playing solitaire. Once he got absorbed in a card game, he had a tendency to temporarily forget anything that had been said to him in the last twenty minutes. It was a bad habit that Ishida had talked to him about several times, and that might have gotten him kicked out of the police force if he weren't so good at what he did. No, we couldn't expect any help from him.
We got off the bus about a block down the street from our destination, just to be safe. Then I pulled out my phone, and made a quick call. I didn't have long to wait.
"Wormwood, what is it?" asked Ishida grumpily.
"I'm pretty sure I'm about to capture a dangerous criminal who has kidnapped at least two people."
"What?! WHO?!" I heard whooshing noises through the receiver that sounded a lot like two flames spurting from the nostrils of an alarmed police chief.
"Well, you're not going to believe this, but it's-"
My phone flew out of my hand, and smashed itself to pieces on the sidewalk. Dang, that was the second one that had been destroyed on the job! I looked at the others in alarm, when my attention was all at once drawn to a small man who had appeared just in front of us, his arm and shoulder wrapped in bandages, but with a splatter gun in his good hand, pointed at me (Note: a splatter gun is a very nasty weapon invented during our version of the Cold War, designed to produce whatever amount of bullets the shooter wants to hit his [just for argument's sake, let's say it's a him] target[s], and upon impact, does a small explosion from inside the body, causing a very nasty, grisly death if the target is alive. The splatter bullets are able to pierce even gargoyle hide, making them particularly dangerous).
"I presume you know what this is, and what it does," sneered Fleming, in a voice that was very different from his typical whiny, prissy tones. "So I hope none of you will try to be a hero. Even if you had such thoughts, my, shall we say, operative is here as well." He gestured with the gun; we turned to see Jessup, eyes glazed, standing behind us, also wielding a splatter gun.
"Unfortunately, my hypnotism is only effective on demons. So I am forced to deal with you in this unsophisticated manner. Please come with us (as if we had any choice). You are just in time to witness my glory!"
In which we discover the horrible truth, and then I die
Calla showed Xen next; then we all looked at each other.
"I didn't see this coming," I finally said. "Did you?"
Both girls shook their heads. Though, as I thought about it, it began to make more sense. I remembered that when I had been on the Skald property, I had caught a familiar scent in the air, before Jessup’s footprints distracted me. It was only now that I recalled whose smell it had been: Fleming’s (yes, it was Fleming. I congratulate you if you were able to successfully guess that it was him). There was only one logical explanation for why he had been at the crime scene just as it was being committed, and I was staring it in the face.
“So,” asked Calla, “what do we do now?”
“We confront him,” I replied. “We’re not the official police, but we can still capture him and bring him in.”
"Okay."
However, for several moments, we just sat there in silence. We were all a little...hesitant to make the first move. Not that we were scared or anything. It was just that actually confronting this guy made us a tad nervous. In the end, I was the first to get up. And, leaving the evidence there, we exited the forensics room, and went out into the main lobby.
I saw Morty sitting at his desk, typing on his computer, bobbing his head in time with whatever music was playing through his iPod.
"Hi, Tristan," he said, looking up.
"Hey. How're things going?"
"Not too bad. Only a minimal amount of killings, thefts, etc. this week. Xen, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Good. How's your missing person investigation going, Tristan?”
"I might have a lead. I just need to get help from-" I glanced around the station. "Where's Fleming?"
"He hasn't been in. Apparently he got in an accident of some kind, had to stay home."
I and Xen both tried not to snort. Oh, he’d gotten in an accident, all right. If you called being stabbed with a palette knife by a young woman trying to defend herself against you an accident.
Unconcerned, and apparently not even curious as to why we wanted Fleming, the Reaper began playing solitaire on the computer.
“Thanks,” I said as we went away. He grunted slightly.
Fleming lived on the southeast side of Styxburg, at 666 Shelley Avenue. It would be easiest to get there by flying, but there was the problem of Calla, who couldn't fly, and also that there seemed to be a storm coming; to fly in that kind of weather would be potentially suicidal. So we took the bus. It was a rather long drive, which gave me time to think that maybe we should have gotten police backup, since this guy was obviously dangerous. Well, Morty knew where we were going...then I remembered that he had been playing solitaire. Once he got absorbed in a card game, he had a tendency to temporarily forget anything that had been said to him in the last twenty minutes. It was a bad habit that Ishida had talked to him about several times, and that might have gotten him kicked out of the police force if he weren't so good at what he did. No, we couldn't expect any help from him.
We got off the bus about a block down the street from our destination, just to be safe. Then I pulled out my phone, and made a quick call. I didn't have long to wait.
"Wormwood, what is it?" asked Ishida grumpily.
"I'm pretty sure I'm about to capture a dangerous criminal who has kidnapped at least two people."
"What?! WHO?!" I heard whooshing noises through the receiver that sounded a lot like two flames spurting from the nostrils of an alarmed police chief.
"Well, you're not going to believe this, but it's-"
My phone flew out of my hand, and smashed itself to pieces on the sidewalk. Dang, that was the second one that had been destroyed on the job! I looked at the others in alarm, when my attention was all at once drawn to a small man who had appeared just in front of us, his arm and shoulder wrapped in bandages, but with a splatter gun in his good hand, pointed at me (Note: a splatter gun is a very nasty weapon invented during our version of the Cold War, designed to produce whatever amount of bullets the shooter wants to hit his [just for argument's sake, let's say it's a him] target[s], and upon impact, does a small explosion from inside the body, causing a very nasty, grisly death if the target is alive. The splatter bullets are able to pierce even gargoyle hide, making them particularly dangerous).
"I presume you know what this is, and what it does," sneered Fleming, in a voice that was very different from his typical whiny, prissy tones. "So I hope none of you will try to be a hero. Even if you had such thoughts, my, shall we say, operative is here as well." He gestured with the gun; we turned to see Jessup, eyes glazed, standing behind us, also wielding a splatter gun.
"Unfortunately, my hypnotism is only effective on demons. So I am forced to deal with you in this unsophisticated manner. Please come with us (as if we had any choice). You are just in time to witness my glory!"
Sunday, October 14, 2012
TANSTAV part 29
Chapter 8 part 3
At about 11 a.m. I woke up. I groggily opened my eyes, and saw Xen setting the table, her back to me. Quietly, I started to get up, and sneak up on tiptoe. Hey, I can never resist that sort of thing. I was about a foot away, when Xen spun around and demanded, "When were you planning on telling me about Calla's other vision?!"
Needless to say, the query caught me slightly off guard. After a moment of nervous hesitation, I asked, "Why'd she tell you?"
"She didn't mean to," she replied. "It happened to be in her thoughts at the exact moment when I accidentally looked her in the eyes." She sighed. "Tristan, why didn't you tell me?"
"I was afraid to. I didn't want to upset you. And we already had that thing of you being potentially captured on our hands."
"And you didn't think that I'd be upset when I found out?"
"Well, actually, I was kind of hoping you wouldn't. Find out."
"Oh, I would have, one way or another," she said, smiling grimly for a moment. Then, serious again, she took my face in both hands, and forced me to look at her.
"Tristan, don't do that. Don't try to hide the truth from me. That hurts me even worse than if you'd just come forward with it right away. I love you. If something bad's going to happen to you, I want to know about it."
"But what about if I'm trying to hide your birthday presents or something?" I protested, after a moment. Somehow, I'm never able to keep up the seriousness of situations for long. It's a gift and a curse. However, it did the trick. Xen smiled.
"Okay, in that kind of situation, then I give you permission. But only then!"
Then, staring me in the eyes, she demanded, "Promise?"
"Yes, dear."
"Tristan!"
"Yes, I promise. Cross my heart, liver and kidneys, and hope to be smashed if otherwise."
Satisfied, Xen's hands transferred themselves from my face to the back of my neck, as she hugged me.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"From what I saw, her vision sounds pretty bad. She thinks it means you're going to die."
"Hey, her last vision didn't turn out like she thought. Sure, I don't like the sound of it, but I'm not going to let it affect me too much. I hope. Where is Calla, by the way?"
"Hiding in her room. She's scared that you'll be mad at her for accidentally showing me."
I sighed. You'd think after so many weeks in my company, she'd know she had nothing to fear from me. Then again, her life had been pretty screwed up until now, so maybe she couldn't help having a little paranoia.
I went to her door, bearing some of the French toast Xen had made. I knocked: DUM-dum-dum-DUM-dum! After a small, hesitant second, I heard the reply: dum DUM! I opened the door, and held out the French toast; Calla timidly took the plate.
"You're not mad?"
"Nope. It was inevitable."
"I'm sorry I didn't hide it better. I know you didn't want her to worry. She doesn't want you to die."
"Kid, we'll worry about it when it happens. Now, eat. You're about to shrivel up like a broom straw."
Smiling at the impossibility of my simile, she tucked in.
Upon analysis, we at the station discovered that the blood sample on the palette knife was O negative (which means the person could give some to everyone-how sweet!), belonged to a mage, and whoever it belonged to had no prior records, since we couldn't match it with anyone in the files. In short, a whole lot of nothing. Sure, I didn't expect a name and address, but it would be nice if we could get something to go on! It would also be nice if we could get some better forensics people, and could solve world hunger, but we can’t have everything. I paced the lab, racking my brains for answers. Calla and Xen, who had accompanied me, sat at the table where the evidence was placed and watched me silently, though I could tell they wanted to know the answers just as much as I did.
How does this fit together? I asked myself. If Jessup's not the one who kidnapped those people, who did? And what was he doing there, if not kidnapping the senator? And why would someone who could kidnap a senator want a homeless Fonin, anyway? How-
"Something's not right about this." Calla's voice interrupted my thought process. I looked up, and saw that she was holding the surveillance tape, frowning.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"There's something in here," she replied. "It's blocking out part of the tape. If I can just-"
Placing her hand on top of it, she made a pulling motion, sending in part of a spell at the same time-and something came out of the tape, clinging to her hand! It was a clump of magical aura, red and black! Calla pulled, and tugged, until finally, she had a gigantic handful. She scrutinized the tape, which she held in her other hand, and gave a nod of satisfaction.
"There, that's better."
I was temporarily dumbfounded (no comments from any of you wise guys reading this). Then, regaining my composure, I went forward, and scooped Calla up in a bear hug! At first she went stiff with fright, but upon realizing I meant her no harm, she relaxed. Then, setting her down, I snatched up the tape, and hurriedly put it into the player.
This time, a few minutes before 8:30, something definitely happened. Jessup was lying on his bunk, staring up at the ceiling, when suddenly, who should appear in his cell but our old friend, Mr. Shadow. To my surprise, when Jessup looked up and saw the shrouded mage standing there, there was no delight, or even anticipation, on his face. He looked surprised; maybe even a little frightened.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "What-"
The shadow man waved one of his cloak sleeves, presumably his hand as well, and the demon was cut short. His eyes were suddenly glazed over, and he got up from the bunk. He slowly walked over to the shadow man, who grabbed him by the wrist. Then they vanished, soundlessly.
For about five minutes, the tape showed an empty cell. Then, finally, both the demon and his captor rematerialized. Jessup still had that glazed-over expression; the shadow made a gesture with his sleeve, and the demon slowly staggered back to his bunk. He sat down, and stared fixedly at the shadow man.
"You will remember nothing," the shadow hissed at him. "You will think you have done nothing but lie there all morning, napping."
Slowly, Jessup nodded. Then he lay down on the bunk, and shut his eyes. The shadow glanced up, and though he was wearing a hood, I could tell he'd seen the camera. He gestured at it, and then vanished. I presumed that was when he'd put the spell into it concealing part of the tape.
Everything was becoming clear to me. Whoever that was must have taken Jessup, and after hypnotizing him, made him step on the grass, in order to set up a blind! Unless, of course, this was another trick by Jessup, to throw me off the track; I wouldn't put it past him. But as I've said before, I think I'm a pretty good judge of character. This time, it hadn't looked like he was faking things. I looked at Xen and Calla, and I could tell they saw the renewed determination in my eyes.
"Calla, can you do something else for me?"
"What?"
"Can you touch this knife, see if you can tell who the person is whose blood is on it?"
"I-I'll try."
Reaching out, she picked up the knife, touching one finger into the by-now dried blood, and began to concentrate. She didn't have to concentrate long. Her eyes widened, and she looked me in the eyes, showing me who it was.
I said, "You have got to be kidding me."
At about 11 a.m. I woke up. I groggily opened my eyes, and saw Xen setting the table, her back to me. Quietly, I started to get up, and sneak up on tiptoe. Hey, I can never resist that sort of thing. I was about a foot away, when Xen spun around and demanded, "When were you planning on telling me about Calla's other vision?!"
Needless to say, the query caught me slightly off guard. After a moment of nervous hesitation, I asked, "Why'd she tell you?"
"She didn't mean to," she replied. "It happened to be in her thoughts at the exact moment when I accidentally looked her in the eyes." She sighed. "Tristan, why didn't you tell me?"
"I was afraid to. I didn't want to upset you. And we already had that thing of you being potentially captured on our hands."
"And you didn't think that I'd be upset when I found out?"
"Well, actually, I was kind of hoping you wouldn't. Find out."
"Oh, I would have, one way or another," she said, smiling grimly for a moment. Then, serious again, she took my face in both hands, and forced me to look at her.
"Tristan, don't do that. Don't try to hide the truth from me. That hurts me even worse than if you'd just come forward with it right away. I love you. If something bad's going to happen to you, I want to know about it."
"But what about if I'm trying to hide your birthday presents or something?" I protested, after a moment. Somehow, I'm never able to keep up the seriousness of situations for long. It's a gift and a curse. However, it did the trick. Xen smiled.
"Okay, in that kind of situation, then I give you permission. But only then!"
Then, staring me in the eyes, she demanded, "Promise?"
"Yes, dear."
"Tristan!"
"Yes, I promise. Cross my heart, liver and kidneys, and hope to be smashed if otherwise."
Satisfied, Xen's hands transferred themselves from my face to the back of my neck, as she hugged me.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"From what I saw, her vision sounds pretty bad. She thinks it means you're going to die."
"Hey, her last vision didn't turn out like she thought. Sure, I don't like the sound of it, but I'm not going to let it affect me too much. I hope. Where is Calla, by the way?"
"Hiding in her room. She's scared that you'll be mad at her for accidentally showing me."
I sighed. You'd think after so many weeks in my company, she'd know she had nothing to fear from me. Then again, her life had been pretty screwed up until now, so maybe she couldn't help having a little paranoia.
I went to her door, bearing some of the French toast Xen had made. I knocked: DUM-dum-dum-DUM-dum! After a small, hesitant second, I heard the reply: dum DUM! I opened the door, and held out the French toast; Calla timidly took the plate.
"You're not mad?"
"Nope. It was inevitable."
"I'm sorry I didn't hide it better. I know you didn't want her to worry. She doesn't want you to die."
"Kid, we'll worry about it when it happens. Now, eat. You're about to shrivel up like a broom straw."
Smiling at the impossibility of my simile, she tucked in.
Upon analysis, we at the station discovered that the blood sample on the palette knife was O negative (which means the person could give some to everyone-how sweet!), belonged to a mage, and whoever it belonged to had no prior records, since we couldn't match it with anyone in the files. In short, a whole lot of nothing. Sure, I didn't expect a name and address, but it would be nice if we could get something to go on! It would also be nice if we could get some better forensics people, and could solve world hunger, but we can’t have everything. I paced the lab, racking my brains for answers. Calla and Xen, who had accompanied me, sat at the table where the evidence was placed and watched me silently, though I could tell they wanted to know the answers just as much as I did.
How does this fit together? I asked myself. If Jessup's not the one who kidnapped those people, who did? And what was he doing there, if not kidnapping the senator? And why would someone who could kidnap a senator want a homeless Fonin, anyway? How-
"Something's not right about this." Calla's voice interrupted my thought process. I looked up, and saw that she was holding the surveillance tape, frowning.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"There's something in here," she replied. "It's blocking out part of the tape. If I can just-"
Placing her hand on top of it, she made a pulling motion, sending in part of a spell at the same time-and something came out of the tape, clinging to her hand! It was a clump of magical aura, red and black! Calla pulled, and tugged, until finally, she had a gigantic handful. She scrutinized the tape, which she held in her other hand, and gave a nod of satisfaction.
"There, that's better."
I was temporarily dumbfounded (no comments from any of you wise guys reading this). Then, regaining my composure, I went forward, and scooped Calla up in a bear hug! At first she went stiff with fright, but upon realizing I meant her no harm, she relaxed. Then, setting her down, I snatched up the tape, and hurriedly put it into the player.
This time, a few minutes before 8:30, something definitely happened. Jessup was lying on his bunk, staring up at the ceiling, when suddenly, who should appear in his cell but our old friend, Mr. Shadow. To my surprise, when Jessup looked up and saw the shrouded mage standing there, there was no delight, or even anticipation, on his face. He looked surprised; maybe even a little frightened.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "What-"
The shadow man waved one of his cloak sleeves, presumably his hand as well, and the demon was cut short. His eyes were suddenly glazed over, and he got up from the bunk. He slowly walked over to the shadow man, who grabbed him by the wrist. Then they vanished, soundlessly.
For about five minutes, the tape showed an empty cell. Then, finally, both the demon and his captor rematerialized. Jessup still had that glazed-over expression; the shadow made a gesture with his sleeve, and the demon slowly staggered back to his bunk. He sat down, and stared fixedly at the shadow man.
"You will remember nothing," the shadow hissed at him. "You will think you have done nothing but lie there all morning, napping."
Slowly, Jessup nodded. Then he lay down on the bunk, and shut his eyes. The shadow glanced up, and though he was wearing a hood, I could tell he'd seen the camera. He gestured at it, and then vanished. I presumed that was when he'd put the spell into it concealing part of the tape.
Everything was becoming clear to me. Whoever that was must have taken Jessup, and after hypnotizing him, made him step on the grass, in order to set up a blind! Unless, of course, this was another trick by Jessup, to throw me off the track; I wouldn't put it past him. But as I've said before, I think I'm a pretty good judge of character. This time, it hadn't looked like he was faking things. I looked at Xen and Calla, and I could tell they saw the renewed determination in my eyes.
"Calla, can you do something else for me?"
"What?"
"Can you touch this knife, see if you can tell who the person is whose blood is on it?"
"I-I'll try."
Reaching out, she picked up the knife, touching one finger into the by-now dried blood, and began to concentrate. She didn't have to concentrate long. Her eyes widened, and she looked me in the eyes, showing me who it was.
I said, "You have got to be kidding me."
Thursday, October 4, 2012
TANSTAV part 28
Chapter 8 part 2
As could be expected, I decided to go home from work early. I tried to relax, but my heart felt ready to burst from worry. I leaped out the window of my office, and was flying toward my building-when I realized that I had forgotten Calla. It's hard to do an about-face in midair, but somehow I managed it. I saw Calla standing at the window. Our eyes met, and I heard her thoughts say, Go. I'll catch up. Sending a wave of gratitude in reply, I turned back, and zoomed to Xen's apartment window. The blinds were closed; I couldn't see if she was there or not. I banged frantically on the glass, praying she would come. No answer. Hoping she would forgive me for this, I jumped off the ledge, flew backward a bit, and then went full-speed towards the glass.
Once again, CRASH!!
I was starting to make a habit out of smashing through windows. That part of my brain that thinks really weird things at inopportune moments wondered if someone would start paying me for it. Recovering, and brushing glass out of my hair, I leaped to my feet- and saw Xen, spinning around to face me, something in her hand. As soon as she saw who it was, relief covered her visage, and, dropping whatever it was onto the table, she sagged limply against her easel, which was set up nearby. Before I could go to her, the door to her apartment burst open, and in came Calla, gasping for breath. When she saw Xen was still there, she sighed with the same amount of relief as my technically-not-girlfriend was exhibiting.
"You're still here! We're early enough that maybe-"
"Actually, you're late," said Xen calmly. We gaped at her; finally, she said, "The shadow was here, but he didn't get me."
"Why not?"
She gestured wordlessly to the object on the table, which I finally recognized as her palette knife. It was coated in a red, sticky substance that was definitely not paint.
"I told you I'd have it handy. He got away before I could bite him, but not before I'd dealt a few good blows. I'm not about to let myself get kidnapped again."
I finally crossed the room to Xen, and wrapped my arms tightly around her. Now I knew she was scared, possibly in shock, even though she was trying to put up a brave front for my and Calla’s sakes; I could feel her body trembling as she clung to me, and smell her convulsive sweat (which is not as gross as you might think; it reminds me of aloe vera).
"Good for you," I said softly.
"Was it-fatal?" asked Calla, gingerly examining the knife.
"I doubt it. I think I only got the shadow in the shoulder, and the arm. But I can tell you this. It wasn't Jessup."
I pulled back a little, and looked her in the eyes with a frown.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I'd have recognized his smell. This smell...it was of a human being, or at least something mostly human. Male mage, I'd say."
I thought about this. It did not connect with the previous information I had collected. Obviously, there was still a missing piece to this puzzle.
"I don't understand," Calla suddenly said.
"What?"
"One of my visions...it didn't come true. They always come true!"
"And yours did," said Xen with a shaky smile.
Calla turned to her.
"But I saw you get kidnapped!"
"No, what you saw was the shadow appearing and grabbing me while I was painting, correct?" Calla nodded. "Your vision just missed the part where I whirled around, knife in hand, and stabbed him. You then automatically jumped to the conclusion that I would let myself be taken easily."
The kid looked down at the floor, her eyes misting a little, and immediately Xen went to her.
"Oh, I'm sorry, that sounded mean. It was an easy conclusion to make. Besides, maybe the fact that you told us made it possible for me to not be captured."
Calla looked a bit hurt still, but smiled tentatively.
That night, Xen stayed at my place, because we'd had to report the illegal entry to the police, and after the cops had searched the apartment for any information, in the unlikely event that I wouldn't be able to find it, she was feeling a little overwhelmed, and didn't want to have to stay there by herself. Besides, I had no intention of letting her out of my sight, now that the shadow had tried to get her. Maybe he would try to get revenge, and even though she'd proven to be capable of handling herself, I wanted to be able to help protect her should the need arise. It was the second time she'd been up almost all day, so she was exhausted. At the same time, however, she was afraid to go to sleep; I could tell. She was lying on the couch, while I tried to make myself comfortable on the floor. But for a long while, I could see the lavender glow of her eyes in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. Finally, I said aloud, "Can't sleep, huh?"
"Not really. The memory of what happened keeps playing over and over every time I close my eyes, and I don't-"
She cut herself off; a quiet sob, which she tried and failed to suppress, resounded in her throat. I got up, and gently lifting her out of the way, sat down on the couch. Xen sat up next to me, and leaned into my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her. She cried for a long, long time. I said nothing, just sat and took my turn to be the one offering emotional support. By the time her last bits of hysteria had subsided, that part of my shirt was thoroughly soaked. Noticing, she whispered, scrubbing at her eyes, "Sorry about your shirt."
"It doesn't matter," I replied. I took her face in my hands, and kissed each tear away. Finally, I kissed her mouth (which had a slight flavor of salt). That definitely seemed to help.
Xen fell asleep with her head in my lap, and soon after, I dozed off too.
As could be expected, I decided to go home from work early. I tried to relax, but my heart felt ready to burst from worry. I leaped out the window of my office, and was flying toward my building-when I realized that I had forgotten Calla. It's hard to do an about-face in midair, but somehow I managed it. I saw Calla standing at the window. Our eyes met, and I heard her thoughts say, Go. I'll catch up. Sending a wave of gratitude in reply, I turned back, and zoomed to Xen's apartment window. The blinds were closed; I couldn't see if she was there or not. I banged frantically on the glass, praying she would come. No answer. Hoping she would forgive me for this, I jumped off the ledge, flew backward a bit, and then went full-speed towards the glass.
Once again, CRASH!!
I was starting to make a habit out of smashing through windows. That part of my brain that thinks really weird things at inopportune moments wondered if someone would start paying me for it. Recovering, and brushing glass out of my hair, I leaped to my feet- and saw Xen, spinning around to face me, something in her hand. As soon as she saw who it was, relief covered her visage, and, dropping whatever it was onto the table, she sagged limply against her easel, which was set up nearby. Before I could go to her, the door to her apartment burst open, and in came Calla, gasping for breath. When she saw Xen was still there, she sighed with the same amount of relief as my technically-not-girlfriend was exhibiting.
"You're still here! We're early enough that maybe-"
"Actually, you're late," said Xen calmly. We gaped at her; finally, she said, "The shadow was here, but he didn't get me."
"Why not?"
She gestured wordlessly to the object on the table, which I finally recognized as her palette knife. It was coated in a red, sticky substance that was definitely not paint.
"I told you I'd have it handy. He got away before I could bite him, but not before I'd dealt a few good blows. I'm not about to let myself get kidnapped again."
I finally crossed the room to Xen, and wrapped my arms tightly around her. Now I knew she was scared, possibly in shock, even though she was trying to put up a brave front for my and Calla’s sakes; I could feel her body trembling as she clung to me, and smell her convulsive sweat (which is not as gross as you might think; it reminds me of aloe vera).
"Good for you," I said softly.
"Was it-fatal?" asked Calla, gingerly examining the knife.
"I doubt it. I think I only got the shadow in the shoulder, and the arm. But I can tell you this. It wasn't Jessup."
I pulled back a little, and looked her in the eyes with a frown.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I'd have recognized his smell. This smell...it was of a human being, or at least something mostly human. Male mage, I'd say."
I thought about this. It did not connect with the previous information I had collected. Obviously, there was still a missing piece to this puzzle.
"I don't understand," Calla suddenly said.
"What?"
"One of my visions...it didn't come true. They always come true!"
"And yours did," said Xen with a shaky smile.
Calla turned to her.
"But I saw you get kidnapped!"
"No, what you saw was the shadow appearing and grabbing me while I was painting, correct?" Calla nodded. "Your vision just missed the part where I whirled around, knife in hand, and stabbed him. You then automatically jumped to the conclusion that I would let myself be taken easily."
The kid looked down at the floor, her eyes misting a little, and immediately Xen went to her.
"Oh, I'm sorry, that sounded mean. It was an easy conclusion to make. Besides, maybe the fact that you told us made it possible for me to not be captured."
Calla looked a bit hurt still, but smiled tentatively.
That night, Xen stayed at my place, because we'd had to report the illegal entry to the police, and after the cops had searched the apartment for any information, in the unlikely event that I wouldn't be able to find it, she was feeling a little overwhelmed, and didn't want to have to stay there by herself. Besides, I had no intention of letting her out of my sight, now that the shadow had tried to get her. Maybe he would try to get revenge, and even though she'd proven to be capable of handling herself, I wanted to be able to help protect her should the need arise. It was the second time she'd been up almost all day, so she was exhausted. At the same time, however, she was afraid to go to sleep; I could tell. She was lying on the couch, while I tried to make myself comfortable on the floor. But for a long while, I could see the lavender glow of her eyes in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. Finally, I said aloud, "Can't sleep, huh?"
"Not really. The memory of what happened keeps playing over and over every time I close my eyes, and I don't-"
She cut herself off; a quiet sob, which she tried and failed to suppress, resounded in her throat. I got up, and gently lifting her out of the way, sat down on the couch. Xen sat up next to me, and leaned into my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her. She cried for a long, long time. I said nothing, just sat and took my turn to be the one offering emotional support. By the time her last bits of hysteria had subsided, that part of my shirt was thoroughly soaked. Noticing, she whispered, scrubbing at her eyes, "Sorry about your shirt."
"It doesn't matter," I replied. I took her face in my hands, and kissed each tear away. Finally, I kissed her mouth (which had a slight flavor of salt). That definitely seemed to help.
Xen fell asleep with her head in my lap, and soon after, I dozed off too.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
TANSTAV part 27
Chapter Eight
Calla has some disturbing premonitions, and, at the brink of despair, I suddenly see the light
I sat at my desk, absentmindedly toying with a pencil. I seemed nowhere closer to the answer than before Greenbriar had brought in her crowd of stool pigeons. There was something vital missing from this case. None of Jessup's minions matched the description of the shadow, who they had also mentioned was small and slight; his bully boys had all been tall, muscular brutes, with no talent for strategic thought. There was always the possibility that Jessup had secretly acquired a smaller, more intelligent minion somehow, but I couldn't see how he'd have managed it after being locked up. But in that case, how could he have done it afterward? I mean, the prison guards were bribable, but after his imprisonment all Jessup’s holdings had been confiscated, and distributed amongst different government officials. I was pretty sure I’d found all his secret caches, and how would he get to them anyway? Maybe he’d been blackmailing the prison guards somehow? But with no resources left, and being locked up in a cell, how could he get anything on them? Gah, how I hated this guy!
I glanced up at Calla, to see how she was doing. She was seated in her chair in front of my desk, and looking rather peculiar. Her eyes were staring vacantly downwards, and her head drooped forward, listless.
"Kid?" I asked, "You okay?"
Slowly, very slowly, she looked up in my general direction. She whispered, "Xen is next. When the shadow man comes next, it will be for Xen."
I stared at her, aghast, until I remembered her telling me that she had premonitions sometimes.
"When?" I asked, trying to remain calm; however, the main part of my thoughts was planning on doing severe damage to several of Jessup's bodily functions should this vision come to pass.
"I-I don't know," she said. Her eyes became focused again, and she looked distraught. "I just saw Xen, sitting and painting, and then the shadow appearing and grabbing at her! It could happen at any time! And-"
She stopped herself, looking at me in a perturbed manner.
"What? What else did you see?"
"You don't want to know," she squeaked.
"Yes, I do, Calla."
"You won't like it."
"That doesn't matter. It concerns me, doesn't it?"
After some hesitation, she nodded.
"Well, if you're having visions about me, I want to know what happens. Whatever it is, I promise I won't get mad at you."
Squeezing her eyes shut, Calla said in a rush, as if trying to get the words out as fast as possible, "I saw you lying on the ground, bleeding. It was in a dark place, and you were hurt really bad in the stomach and shoulders, and I didn't know what to do!"
That was a sobering vision. For several moments, I was unsure how to react. From what she was saying, it sounded like she was seeing my death. But with an effort, I pulled myself together.
"Hey, Calla," I said. She looked over at me, her pupils dilated, though avoiding eye contact.
"Severe injury is not the same as death. Besides, nothing in the future is certain. You might just be seeing a possibility."
Calla looked unconvinced.
"I always see my visions come true. Always."
"Well," I said, trying to be nonchalant, "no sense worrying about it now. We've got a case to work on."
I knew that she wouldn't get it out of her mind that easily. But she was silent. I took the opportunity to call Xen, just in case. After three rings, which made my heart palpitate severely, she finally answered.
"Hello?"
"Xen! You're okay!"
"Yeah...should I not be?"
"...No, not at all. Just making sure."
"Okay, Tristan, what happened?" Her tone was that no-nonsense one that means no beating around the bush, or trying to fudge the truth. I can never hide anything from Xen when she uses that tone of voice, and have already promised never to lie to her anyway. I told her, tentatively, about Calla's vision of the shadow trying to kidnap her. However, I neglected to mention her other vision of my possible death.
"Huh. That's...not good," Xen finally said.
"No. It's not. So I was just calling to, y'know, make sure you were still there."
"Yeah, I'm right here. No evil shadows yet," she said dryly, trying to make it a joke.
"Be careful, please," I said softly.
"I will, Tristan. Don't worry about me."
"You know I can't do that."
"Come on, you have that bodyguard of yours posted right outside my room. What could happen?"
"The shadow is a teleporter. Calla saw him just appearing in your apartment, right next to you."
"Well, in that case, I shall keep my palette knife handy," was the reply. I managed a weak laugh.
"Bye, Xen."
"I'll see you when you get home."
As I hung up, I tried not to think that those might be the last words I would ever hear from her.
Calla has some disturbing premonitions, and, at the brink of despair, I suddenly see the light
I sat at my desk, absentmindedly toying with a pencil. I seemed nowhere closer to the answer than before Greenbriar had brought in her crowd of stool pigeons. There was something vital missing from this case. None of Jessup's minions matched the description of the shadow, who they had also mentioned was small and slight; his bully boys had all been tall, muscular brutes, with no talent for strategic thought. There was always the possibility that Jessup had secretly acquired a smaller, more intelligent minion somehow, but I couldn't see how he'd have managed it after being locked up. But in that case, how could he have done it afterward? I mean, the prison guards were bribable, but after his imprisonment all Jessup’s holdings had been confiscated, and distributed amongst different government officials. I was pretty sure I’d found all his secret caches, and how would he get to them anyway? Maybe he’d been blackmailing the prison guards somehow? But with no resources left, and being locked up in a cell, how could he get anything on them? Gah, how I hated this guy!
I glanced up at Calla, to see how she was doing. She was seated in her chair in front of my desk, and looking rather peculiar. Her eyes were staring vacantly downwards, and her head drooped forward, listless.
"Kid?" I asked, "You okay?"
Slowly, very slowly, she looked up in my general direction. She whispered, "Xen is next. When the shadow man comes next, it will be for Xen."
I stared at her, aghast, until I remembered her telling me that she had premonitions sometimes.
"When?" I asked, trying to remain calm; however, the main part of my thoughts was planning on doing severe damage to several of Jessup's bodily functions should this vision come to pass.
"I-I don't know," she said. Her eyes became focused again, and she looked distraught. "I just saw Xen, sitting and painting, and then the shadow appearing and grabbing at her! It could happen at any time! And-"
She stopped herself, looking at me in a perturbed manner.
"What? What else did you see?"
"You don't want to know," she squeaked.
"Yes, I do, Calla."
"You won't like it."
"That doesn't matter. It concerns me, doesn't it?"
After some hesitation, she nodded.
"Well, if you're having visions about me, I want to know what happens. Whatever it is, I promise I won't get mad at you."
Squeezing her eyes shut, Calla said in a rush, as if trying to get the words out as fast as possible, "I saw you lying on the ground, bleeding. It was in a dark place, and you were hurt really bad in the stomach and shoulders, and I didn't know what to do!"
That was a sobering vision. For several moments, I was unsure how to react. From what she was saying, it sounded like she was seeing my death. But with an effort, I pulled myself together.
"Hey, Calla," I said. She looked over at me, her pupils dilated, though avoiding eye contact.
"Severe injury is not the same as death. Besides, nothing in the future is certain. You might just be seeing a possibility."
Calla looked unconvinced.
"I always see my visions come true. Always."
"Well," I said, trying to be nonchalant, "no sense worrying about it now. We've got a case to work on."
I knew that she wouldn't get it out of her mind that easily. But she was silent. I took the opportunity to call Xen, just in case. After three rings, which made my heart palpitate severely, she finally answered.
"Hello?"
"Xen! You're okay!"
"Yeah...should I not be?"
"...No, not at all. Just making sure."
"Okay, Tristan, what happened?" Her tone was that no-nonsense one that means no beating around the bush, or trying to fudge the truth. I can never hide anything from Xen when she uses that tone of voice, and have already promised never to lie to her anyway. I told her, tentatively, about Calla's vision of the shadow trying to kidnap her. However, I neglected to mention her other vision of my possible death.
"Huh. That's...not good," Xen finally said.
"No. It's not. So I was just calling to, y'know, make sure you were still there."
"Yeah, I'm right here. No evil shadows yet," she said dryly, trying to make it a joke.
"Be careful, please," I said softly.
"I will, Tristan. Don't worry about me."
"You know I can't do that."
"Come on, you have that bodyguard of yours posted right outside my room. What could happen?"
"The shadow is a teleporter. Calla saw him just appearing in your apartment, right next to you."
"Well, in that case, I shall keep my palette knife handy," was the reply. I managed a weak laugh.
"Bye, Xen."
"I'll see you when you get home."
As I hung up, I tried not to think that those might be the last words I would ever hear from her.
TANSTAV part 26
Chapter Seven part 3
We interrupt this program to bring you a special expose on demons.
Demons are often typecast as some of the scummiest monsters in the world. Mostly they resemble humans, but with some kind of animalistic deformity, such as fangs, scales, animal feet, etc. They are somewhat related to devils, but we're not sure how. Demons have bodies. Devils don't.
Most demons get jobs of power in the monster world, such as becoming politicians, lawyers, soldiers, drug dealers, and other occupations created for the inconvenience of monster and humankind. They seem to get a sadistic pleasure out of torturing others through a plethora of methods, from interrogations to paperwork. Unfortunately, over the years humans have picked up some of their methods (probably thanks to the influence of devils, who can whisper in your ear when you least expect it), and have been using them to plague themselves and others.
Interestingly enough, Asian demons are a lot less inclined towards wickedness than European, North or South American, and Australian demons (there are no demons that we know of at either of the Poles or Canada). They have their own codes of honor, and up until the nineteenth century, some of them would even punish themselves for disgracing their families by disembowelment with their own claws. Some Asian demons have been known to marry humans, and produce half-demon children. The children usually follow the same sort of honor code as their demon parents, and will try to go through life in such a way that they will be able to keep that code, and enforce it on everyone else (such as being a police chief, or similar authority figure).
Imps are a minor form of demon. Less evil, but very bureaucratic and obsessed with literal compliance with rules (though not insusceptible to bribery, thankfully). Typically they are small and black, with beady eyes, warts, fangs, stuff like that. Another name for them is goblins. They love shiny objects, and so will sometimes get jobs as bankers. However, their efficiency and red tape obsession allows them to fit into almost any job.
Not all demons are evil, any more than all fae are good. Regardless, their history and genetic traits have led to that reputation, and many of them follow it to the letter.
And now, back to our program.
We interrupt this program to bring you a special expose on demons.
Demons are often typecast as some of the scummiest monsters in the world. Mostly they resemble humans, but with some kind of animalistic deformity, such as fangs, scales, animal feet, etc. They are somewhat related to devils, but we're not sure how. Demons have bodies. Devils don't.
Most demons get jobs of power in the monster world, such as becoming politicians, lawyers, soldiers, drug dealers, and other occupations created for the inconvenience of monster and humankind. They seem to get a sadistic pleasure out of torturing others through a plethora of methods, from interrogations to paperwork. Unfortunately, over the years humans have picked up some of their methods (probably thanks to the influence of devils, who can whisper in your ear when you least expect it), and have been using them to plague themselves and others.
Interestingly enough, Asian demons are a lot less inclined towards wickedness than European, North or South American, and Australian demons (there are no demons that we know of at either of the Poles or Canada). They have their own codes of honor, and up until the nineteenth century, some of them would even punish themselves for disgracing their families by disembowelment with their own claws. Some Asian demons have been known to marry humans, and produce half-demon children. The children usually follow the same sort of honor code as their demon parents, and will try to go through life in such a way that they will be able to keep that code, and enforce it on everyone else (such as being a police chief, or similar authority figure).
Imps are a minor form of demon. Less evil, but very bureaucratic and obsessed with literal compliance with rules (though not insusceptible to bribery, thankfully). Typically they are small and black, with beady eyes, warts, fangs, stuff like that. Another name for them is goblins. They love shiny objects, and so will sometimes get jobs as bankers. However, their efficiency and red tape obsession allows them to fit into almost any job.
Not all demons are evil, any more than all fae are good. Regardless, their history and genetic traits have led to that reputation, and many of them follow it to the letter.
And now, back to our program.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
TANSTAV part 25
Chapter Seven part 2
Calla's eyes grew to nearly the size of wagon wheels; for a moment, she was speechless.
"You don't have to answer just yet," I assured her. "Think about it for a while."
"What would I need to do?" she squeaked.
"You'd help me in my investigations."
"Like Dr. Watson?"
"Not exactly. I can write my own memoirs. But you could go ask people questions for me, visit crime scenes, pretty much the same stuff I do. People are more likely to talk freely to a harmless-looking girl than a big, scary gargoyle."
Calla half snorted, another large step for her.
"You're not that scary."
Suddenly, I spread out my wings to full length; standing up to my full height, I bared my fangs, exposed my claws, lunged forward slightly, and roared, "OH, YEAH?!"
The girl screamed in fright, and flung her arms up in front of her. Without warning, I felt something slam into me, knocking me backward into the wall!
For a few minutes, all I could do was lie there and try to get my breath back. I managed to lift my head up and look at Calla. She was huddled on the floor, arms wrapped around her chest, rocking back and forth. Finally, she looked over in my direction. Seeing that I was staring back, she uncurled from the fetal position, and crawled forward.
"Are you okay?" she whispered. "Please don't be hurt."
"I'm fine, just a little winded," I replied, managing to pull myself up.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"
"No, I'm sorry for scaring you like that. I forgot."
"But I should have had more self-control!"
"Kid, you've been through an incredibly traumatic experience. I'm not surprised that you're a little shell-shocked."
"But Doctor Higgins has been treating me! He was supposed to get me all better!" She looked down helplessly.
"Patience, kid. Rome wasn't built in a day, you know."
"What's Rome got to do with it?" Calla muttered. However, she smiled a little, so I knew things were okay for now.
I avoided mentioning the previous conversation for a few days. No sense opening old wounds, and it might be good to let her think it over. So it surprised me when, on April 13, Calla asked, "Do you still want me to be your assistant?"
"Only if you want to," I replied.
"Well, I certainly wouldn't mind. I mean, you can't be everywhere at once, and it might be nice for you to have an assistant-"
"Calla," I interrupted, "what would you like to do? Quit worrying about what I want."
"I-I'll do it, if you like."
"But what do you, personally, want?"
"...I want to make you happy."
I gave a small sigh of amused exasperation. Blushing, Calla finally stammered, "I think I would enjoy being your assistant."
"Good. That's all you had to say, kid."
The next day, I took Calla with me to the office. In order to get her started, I had her read over the facts of the case, while I sorted through old files, and organized my desk. Occasionally she would ask me questions, but for the most part we both worked in silence. It was nice to have someone with a fresh view of things there; maybe it would help me find some extra clues. Suddenly, in a remarkable display of good timing, there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," I called, with a feeling of deja vu.
In came Greenbriar, followed by an imp, a Fonin woman, and two mouse men, all of whom looked exceedingly nervous. Greenbriar glanced curiously at Calla, who looked up when they entered, then quickly back at the papers on her desk.
"This is Calla Gardiner, my assistant," I announced. "Anything you need to say to me can be said in front of her. Calla, this is Morgan Greenbriar, head of H.N.M, and..."
"The eyewitnesses. Jared, Grace, Timothy, and Nigel," she said, indicating each of them in turn.
The two of us exchanged pleasantries, while the foursome clustered together in a huddle, eyes darting in all directions. To make them feel better, I got up from my desk, crossed the room and closed the door.
"That won't work," Timothy muttered. "The shadow sees all, knows all. We'll be next, I know it!" His whiskers trembled in fear, and he was absentmindedly tying knots in his tail.
"Not if I have anything to say about it," I declared. "Now, I'm going to need statements from all of you about what you saw. Calla, would you mind?"
Nodding in understanding, she touched a spell we’d purchased earlier that would record things other people said. It turned green, indicating that it was on.
They all said pretty much the same thing-during lunchtime at the center, they had been heading for their usual eating corners, when they saw a dark form appear out of nowhere (soundlessly), grab Whitechapel, and disappear just as soundlessly. The only real variation was that Grace had been going to join Mr. Whitechapel; apparently, he was her boyfriend, making her the most distraught out of the whole group.
"You've got to find Clarence, Mr. Wormwood," she pleaded, "You've just got to!"
"I shall certainly do my best," I promised.
"See?" said Greenbriar as they were leaving, "I told you it would be all right!"
"Only now we can expect repercussions from the shadow," moaned Timothy, apparently the self-declared nay-sayer and prophet of doom. I hoped he would be proven wrong.
Calla's eyes grew to nearly the size of wagon wheels; for a moment, she was speechless.
"You don't have to answer just yet," I assured her. "Think about it for a while."
"What would I need to do?" she squeaked.
"You'd help me in my investigations."
"Like Dr. Watson?"
"Not exactly. I can write my own memoirs. But you could go ask people questions for me, visit crime scenes, pretty much the same stuff I do. People are more likely to talk freely to a harmless-looking girl than a big, scary gargoyle."
Calla half snorted, another large step for her.
"You're not that scary."
Suddenly, I spread out my wings to full length; standing up to my full height, I bared my fangs, exposed my claws, lunged forward slightly, and roared, "OH, YEAH?!"
The girl screamed in fright, and flung her arms up in front of her. Without warning, I felt something slam into me, knocking me backward into the wall!
For a few minutes, all I could do was lie there and try to get my breath back. I managed to lift my head up and look at Calla. She was huddled on the floor, arms wrapped around her chest, rocking back and forth. Finally, she looked over in my direction. Seeing that I was staring back, she uncurled from the fetal position, and crawled forward.
"Are you okay?" she whispered. "Please don't be hurt."
"I'm fine, just a little winded," I replied, managing to pull myself up.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"
"No, I'm sorry for scaring you like that. I forgot."
"But I should have had more self-control!"
"Kid, you've been through an incredibly traumatic experience. I'm not surprised that you're a little shell-shocked."
"But Doctor Higgins has been treating me! He was supposed to get me all better!" She looked down helplessly.
"Patience, kid. Rome wasn't built in a day, you know."
"What's Rome got to do with it?" Calla muttered. However, she smiled a little, so I knew things were okay for now.
I avoided mentioning the previous conversation for a few days. No sense opening old wounds, and it might be good to let her think it over. So it surprised me when, on April 13, Calla asked, "Do you still want me to be your assistant?"
"Only if you want to," I replied.
"Well, I certainly wouldn't mind. I mean, you can't be everywhere at once, and it might be nice for you to have an assistant-"
"Calla," I interrupted, "what would you like to do? Quit worrying about what I want."
"I-I'll do it, if you like."
"But what do you, personally, want?"
"...I want to make you happy."
I gave a small sigh of amused exasperation. Blushing, Calla finally stammered, "I think I would enjoy being your assistant."
"Good. That's all you had to say, kid."
The next day, I took Calla with me to the office. In order to get her started, I had her read over the facts of the case, while I sorted through old files, and organized my desk. Occasionally she would ask me questions, but for the most part we both worked in silence. It was nice to have someone with a fresh view of things there; maybe it would help me find some extra clues. Suddenly, in a remarkable display of good timing, there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," I called, with a feeling of deja vu.
In came Greenbriar, followed by an imp, a Fonin woman, and two mouse men, all of whom looked exceedingly nervous. Greenbriar glanced curiously at Calla, who looked up when they entered, then quickly back at the papers on her desk.
"This is Calla Gardiner, my assistant," I announced. "Anything you need to say to me can be said in front of her. Calla, this is Morgan Greenbriar, head of H.N.M, and..."
"The eyewitnesses. Jared, Grace, Timothy, and Nigel," she said, indicating each of them in turn.
The two of us exchanged pleasantries, while the foursome clustered together in a huddle, eyes darting in all directions. To make them feel better, I got up from my desk, crossed the room and closed the door.
"That won't work," Timothy muttered. "The shadow sees all, knows all. We'll be next, I know it!" His whiskers trembled in fear, and he was absentmindedly tying knots in his tail.
"Not if I have anything to say about it," I declared. "Now, I'm going to need statements from all of you about what you saw. Calla, would you mind?"
Nodding in understanding, she touched a spell we’d purchased earlier that would record things other people said. It turned green, indicating that it was on.
They all said pretty much the same thing-during lunchtime at the center, they had been heading for their usual eating corners, when they saw a dark form appear out of nowhere (soundlessly), grab Whitechapel, and disappear just as soundlessly. The only real variation was that Grace had been going to join Mr. Whitechapel; apparently, he was her boyfriend, making her the most distraught out of the whole group.
"You've got to find Clarence, Mr. Wormwood," she pleaded, "You've just got to!"
"I shall certainly do my best," I promised.
"See?" said Greenbriar as they were leaving, "I told you it would be all right!"
"Only now we can expect repercussions from the shadow," moaned Timothy, apparently the self-declared nay-sayer and prophet of doom. I hoped he would be proven wrong.
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