AN: Again, my apologies for the long wait on this chapter; I had written it out by hand as usual, and had inputted half of it when I posted the last chapter, and then I misplaced my notebook that held all my notes and writing. Really irritating BTW. But thankfully it has been found.
Thanks to everyone who has read the story thus far, and a special thanks to those who have responded -
vampyrolover86,
Yas, and
Jenna. It's always great to hear what people think, even if it's as simple as a 'great chapter.' We author's live for your feedback.
Anyway, on with the story...
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Harry Miller once postulated that, “every man has his own destiny: the only imperative is to follow it, to accept it, no matter where it leads him.” A sentiment that seems so simple in thought, but is actually quite convoluted in application. He
had been born into a predetermined destiny - one rigorously planned before he came to be and viewed as an honor by many; but it never fit, feeling more akin to a tight, itchy skin rather than a blessing. It chafed, that noose that tightened around his neck every day, choking him, leading him from his true heart's desire. And the more he struggled to slip his leash, the more the ties constricted, entwined, binding him to the chosen path until there was no other choice but to follow their dictates, to follow that path to an inevitable end – one that would either link him to her for eternity or would lead to absolute destruction.
Destiny and Choice
He stood deep in the shadows, a sly smirk twisting his otherwise handsome features, blood pulsing in a steady, electric thrum as he watched his prey move gracefully through the crowd, dipping and weaving and winding through it, as if performing an intricate dance, and blending effortlessly into the background. Everyone seemed to forget her presence despite the invasive device in her hands, as she snapped away; diligently recording the emerging scene he'd so painstakingly laid for her benefit. She had always been skilled in disappearing into the woodwork, making herself invisible, almost ghost-like, which is why she lost him so often in this relentless pursuit.
He had almost given up this time; until he had so fortuitously stumbled upon her in the City of Angels, working a similar scene just a few blocks from his dingy, run-down motel room, waiting for a sign from his pretty, elusive queen. He had only left because the walls had begun to close in on him, constricting the air in his lungs as that familiar well of rage built in his head like a pressure cooker at his inability to find one pitiful human. But their connection had crumbled to mere threads, and it was no longer strong enough to lead him to her side.
Sinking back against the pock-marked wall behind him, he flicked his eyes over the slight, petite beauty covetously, that hot, need sluicing through his body once more, nearly pressing him to doing something injudicious – like steal her away before it was time.
He wasn't quite through playing with his spoils; and it was nothing more than she deserved after the inconvenience she'd put him through.
He had always known she was still breathing; or at least he had once his fury and grief had dissipated and he'd felt their weak connection thrum to life, throbbing in his head like a diseased cyst, a cancer that rapidly spread throughout his being, enveloping him in a cold, dark satisfaction. He'd cackled in delight when that steady hum filled him once more, deriving pleasure from the fact that she'd been unsuccessful in breaking the bond between them despite numerous threats and attempts to do otherwise. He'd once believed that Michael had managed to overwrite it when their bond flared into existence, but it must have just muted the connection until his untimely 'accident.'
Licking his lips slowly, a malicious thrill snaked along his spine when the brunette beauty paused, halting her next shot as she glanced over her shoulder uneasily, and then rubbed at the back of her neck as if feeling his eyes upon her. And it shot a thrill through him that he’d been detected. Scanning her surroundings nervously, she shifted anxiously, seeking out the eyes she obviously felt boring into her back, a visible shudder wracking her body. That frightened look was intoxicating, making his soul sing as he smirked and continued to blatantly stare, loving the way she jumped to his tune for once instead of leading him on a merry chase – it made his blood burn and things low in his body tighten with a desperate need that only she could quench.
She was so riveting, enchanting, beautiful in her despair and fragility.
It could have been so different;
had been different in the beginning, when she had trusted him implicitly and hung off of his every word, viewing him as the answer to all her girlish hopes and dreams. He'd basked in that sweet acceptance and light, knowing that it made his life, his task easier. She'd even forgiven the transgressions with Tess and Alex; and if that wouldn't turn her away, he should have been home free.
And then suddenly something changed.
She'd grown distant, watching him with chilled, suspicious eyes, as if she barely recognized him or he was a complete stranger and, eventually, stopped trusting him altogether.
And he couldn't pinpoint why.
Worse, she'd sought separate quarters, putting multiple locked doors between them – of both the physical and mental sense. He had to watch in helpless fury as she turned to his second, lavishing him with her affection, citing that Michael needed her more than he as Maria had finally disappeared deep in the night to pursue her dreams, breaking ties with the group.
It was too bad that the little blonde had met with an 'accident' before ensuring her escape; he hadn't wanted to silence that beautiful voice, but one couldn't leave loose ends – especially ones that were a bit on the chatty side.
His pretty little quarry's excuse had been just that – an excuse. And it had rankled. She was
his queen and should be spending time with
him, trying to find a way back to his home planet, rather than spending all her nights in the arms of someone insignificant to their world. Antar needed them; the
true prince needed them. But she'd rather live out a pointless existence on this pathetic rock of a planet rather than be worshiped as the goddess she was once they had freed their people.
Rage bubbling in his gut, he clenched his hands into fists, squeezing them so tightly that his nails cut into the palms and left bruised indentations as she dismissed him once again, going back to her job without glancing his way. As if he was unimportant in her world. It made him seethe the way she'd always overlooked him from the beginning of their acquaintance, seeming to almost look down her nose at him. Or at least that was how it felt, until fate stepped in and made him the center of her world for a very brief time.
And then he'd lost her attention once again, only a footnote in her life as she turned her notice to Michael, bestowing unto him all her love and allegiance.
It had burned – flames bright and virulent, blackening the remains of his heart – as he watched them come together, laughing and slowly falling in love right before his very eyes; although they had both denied the latter for a long time. It was laughable really. Everyone around them could see the way their eyes turned to each other, even strangers, but they were oblivious, each secretly pining until she'd left, breaking with their group; leaving him with a broken princess, the silent Buddhist monk, and the man that had stolen her away from him.
Those she'd left him with had sickened him; clinging to their human lives as if they were their only lifelines, when there was so much they could have done, so much to exploit. They had once been proud, powerful beings, that the masses had once bowed down to and they certainly could have done the same here. But they preferred hiding, shamed by their uniqueness and weakened themselves. He had briefly considered ending the lot of them, as they had become mere hindrances at that point, and then heading off on his own to rein in his errant queen, and irrevocably binding her to him.
He was thankful that he hadn't just a week later, when Michael, finally owning up to his feelings for the pretty brunette, set off on her trail, quickly tracking her down by the bond they had forged,
and never informed him of, unwittingly leading him directly to her, bringing her back into the fold. But not before Michael had claimed her for his own, overwriting the sickly, crumbling connection between he and Liz.
He'd come close to killing them that night; incandescent in his rage that all his plans shattered with their union, unwittingly marking Michael as king. He'd pulled his knife, hidden in his boot and caressed it lovingly, envisioning how it would slice through pale skin, allowing him to bathe in the rich, crimson liquid that spilled from their throats. But he'd managed to keep himself in check; barely. He needed her and wasn't about to let a momentary lapse in judgment foil his carefully laid plans. He had to put her on the throne, bonded or not. Besides, Michael was incidental and there were many ways of disposing of unwanted rubbish.
Smiling evilly, he still recalled their disbelief and discomfort as he walked in on them, lying in bed together; bodies still entwined and cast the first doubt.
He stared at them, that familiar rage burning in his gut as his second wrapped protectively around the girl, his hand pressed to the flat of her stomach, under her shirt, with her back pressed intimately into the cradle of his body. As if he swaddled her. As if he cocooned her from the harsh realities of the world. As if he had the right to claim the beauty although he was nothing more than a mere servant.
Gnashing his teeth, he moved to the edge of the bed and curled his hand, tempted to strike them down with nothing more than a silent blast, or better yet, taking the knife he kept hidden in his boot since…well since they tried to usurp him and slide it through that pretty little neck. How dared she turn her eyes to this lesser version of Rath? Clenching his hands into fists, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, desperately attempting to get his fury under control. He couldn’t kill her yet; not until there was a rightful heir. But the temptation was so profound, whispering in his ears seductively, promising him that the pain would end if he just reached out and…no, he couldn’t. Not at this time
But he was sick of being betrayed.
Compressing his lips, he shunted aside the mad thoughts and refocused on the sleeping couple, his lips curling into a cruel smile as a cunning idea popped into his head. He could still work in his favor if he spun the right words. Jarring the bed with his foot, he smiled at them fondly, that sadistic pleasure careening madly through his system as he painted an innocent expression on his face. Oh, neither would fully believe it likely, but appearances must be kept.
He watched, chuckling on the inside as their eyes popped and they shrunk away from them as one, and Michael's arm tightened around his Queen's waist protectively, his eyes narrowing in challenge. But with her back to him, Liz never saw Michael's true reaction, nor the panic that flit across his face, as he greeted them both softly, his smile broadening as she deftly read between the lines to catch his intended faux meaning.
"Michael, you finally caught up with our wayward, Queen. I knew I could count you to track her down for me."
The flare of pain and betrayal that had etched in her eyes, matched with the helpless fury in the second’s, had been beautiful to see and left him giggling internally; and he'd secretly savored her distressed cry as she pulled the sheets around her and fled from prying eyes, Michael’s powerless stare following her every movement. It had been perfect - despite Michael’s explanations, the damage had been done and he retained control over his beautiful quarry once more.
Or so he thought.
She had fooled him, playing at being properly submissive and cowed, hurt by the second's betrayal, while all the while they had been meeting in secret, planning their escape. Betraying him once more, leaving him alone with the monk and broken princess to start a life together.
And for that she had to pay.
Stepping into her line of sight; or really within the sight of her lens as she dutifully snapped away, he allowed his image to be recorded into black and white film, and then pulled back with a smirk as she finally stepped away from the crowd. He meant to taunt her with his image; make her realize that he was slowly closing in on her, but he hadn't expected this fortuitous event placing her easily within arms reach as she skirted the looky-loos and unwittingly headed in his direction.
It would be so easy.
And really it was a perfect opportunity to snatch her right from underneath everyone’s noses - her friends were safely away and the crowd was far too busy watching the drama unfold before them to pay much attention to a lone photographer. All he had to do was walk up behind her, place her under a sleep spell and catch her as she fell into his waiting arms, completely out and helpless to his whims.
He'd then play the hero to his poor, overwrought girlfriend, whisking her away to rest in their room just two buildings down; she did get so worked up about these things after all.
No one would even flinch; and really some would likely smile and offer to help.
And he hungered for it; desired having her within his control with a need so fierce that he didn't have the words to express it fully. It could all be over in a moment.
But before he could intercept her, that damnable fate that watched over her, interceded once more, and a familiar, despised face stepped between them, walking along the shadows until he drew abreast of her and halted her trek.
Hissing his displeasure, he glared at her detective friend malevolently, silently cursing him as he hovered around her, talking nonchalantly even as he scanned the crowd for the threat he sensed, but couldn't pinpoint as she continued to snap photos from this new angle. Ducking his head as the detective looked his way; he slouched and began walking down the street as if he hadn't a care in the world, only glancing up to study the collapsed building from time to time with indifferent eyes when the detective's gaze landed on him.
Halting, he played the concerned, impassive tourist, studying the chaos around him until the detective moved on, enabling his retreat. Shooting one last malevolent glower at her unknown hero, he turned on his heel and continued on his way, plotting his next move.
Slipping around the corner, he looked back for one last glimpse of her face, and growled under his breath when his eyes met with the sight of the detective leading her from the scene with a protective arm around her shoulders. All that his planning and rigging of the building collapse had been a complete waste. He'd have to find another way to corner her.
Although, perhaps it wasn't a complete loss. There was the photo after all and she was still looking at her surroundings warily. Studying the twitchy brunette, he smirked when she glanced over her shoulder, surely feeling his eyes upon her, and then she paled dramatically when their eyes clashed and held. Drinking her fear down like a fine port - sweet, heady, intoxicating - he turned and slipped out of sight.
She was
his; and this time she wouldn't escape.
... ... ...
Liz set her bag down, nerves slightly jangled as she thought she detected a familiar buzz of power in the air, but when she attuned her own, desperately grasping for that elusive taint, it slid away from her, evaporating on the wind like water in the desert heat. Frowning thoughtfully, she surreptitiously scoped out the scene, taking in the multitude of firemen and police running around, helping the volunteers with the rubble, calming the victims of the building collapse and monitoring the gathering masses.
Nothing seemed out of place; but she had been fooled into complacency once before, and in the alien world, not seeing definitely did not equate to not believing. They had a tricky way of being invisible to the naked eye if they so chose; and her enemy could be anywhere within the crowd without her even knowing they were the enemy.
Running a trembling hand through her hair, she deftly pulled it back into a low ponytail and shrugged off her fears in favor of focusing on the job she was there to do; at least for the moment. She had been hired by BuzzWire to shoot some digitals of the rubble and rescue effort to go along with a continually updating spread they planned to do for their site.
Not that it had mattered.
She had already planned to head to the scene on her own, hoping to get a few stills for her own collection, as well as on the hope she could sell them to a few local newswires; but this was even better as she always preferred guaranteed returns on her efforts. She was getting rather tired of eating ramen this week, followed quickly by sandwiches and mac and cheese. It would be great to have a little more variety in her diet, and she really didn't want to touch the nest egg she and Michael had built up on the chance she had to run once more.
Michael…
Her heart ached at the thought of her love, and swallowing past the lump that had grown in it; she touched her throat, her fingers automatically closing around the locket that hung there, a tangible reminder of all she had lost. Closing her eyes as that unfathomable well of grief washed over her once more, she dashed her hand over them, dispelling the tears that threatened to gather at the corners - this was no time to give into her despair. She had plenty of time for that during her cold, seemingly endless evenings.
Opening her eyes, Liz knelt down and opened her camera bag, and pulled her digital camera out, popping a fresh disk in and putting her swinging emotions on hold, numbly began taking photos of the scene. There was a comfort in holding the camera, which kept the people swirling around her in a hive of activity at a distance. And yet there was a level of connection that she could never explain as she focused on the people opposed to the actual rubble.
They were the true story unfolding.
They were the faces that gave meaning behind the event - the soot-covered fireman that pulled yet another chunk of concrete from the remains of the structure; the child standing at the edge, tears filling his eyes as he desperately waited to be reunited with his parent; the weary frown on the captain's face as he stared at some blueprints; or the kind smile of a stranger, who stopped to help because it was the right thing to do.
It made everything real, that human face, and gave life to an event that rubble could not.
It was also this face that kept her in touch with the flow of life surrounding her while she herself was forced to remain in the backseat, detached, never a participant, only the observer.
Squatting down, she braced herself on one knee and tilted her camera up, continuing to shoot as the team began pulling out, what she assumed, was the first of many victims of the collapse, their murmurs reaching an almost angry buzz as they moved around the stretcher of what she hoped was a survivor, but was most definitely of human remains if nothing else. It was at times like these that she wished she could tap into her powers and help them levitate the wreckage away, or heal the wounded; but it would present too many unanswerable questions and she wasn't going to play God.
Look what happened the last time an alien being interfered with the cycle of life.
Pushing the thought away,
before it could dredge up too many painful memories, she stood and made her way over to her bag, to grab out her old, beaten up Pentax ME Super. It was a dinosaur, and rarely used these days, but there was just something satisfying about working with her father's old camera. When she was behind it, she felt connected to her old life and gave her a small sense of the family she lost due to an alien king that couldn't comprehend the word 'no.'
She still wasn't certain what exactly had happened to her parents when reports of her supposed death made their way to them; she lost track of them once they'd sold the Crashdown and set off for parts unknown in the wake of finding her journal. And she didn't blame them. They didn't know she was alive, and she couldn't tell them even had she wanted to - it would have made them sitting ducks to both sides of the equation and she loved them far too much to put them in any more danger.
She just hoped that they were happy and they didn’t know the way her
fairytale had ended.
Shaking off the bitter thoughts, Liz loaded her camera with black and white film, loving the stark contrasts and muted gray tones that the film created in such scenes. These next few shots were for her alone; a hobby that she'd began when she'd nothing better to do on the run, that quickly became lucrative as she'd learned her craft, able to sell some under the table at arts and crafts shows. And lately, she'd set up a website, selling her art under another assumed name, which deposited the money into a little known account overseas.
Another nest egg for when she finally broke free here and lost herself in another country. If she could get the necessary false documentation. But that was a problem for another day.
Studying the scene, Liz paused and looked around apprehensively as she felt eyes boring into her back once more, sending a chill snaking down her spine. Clutching at her camera until her knuckles whitened, she tugged on her ponytail, a nervous twitch that she'd developed over the years, and desperately tried to ignore the hot, malevolent gaze of the one she couldn't see as she turned back to her camera. But it was useless; that virulent gaze had already done its job in unsettling her, shattering her peace and setting her nerves on edge.
She hated the thought of running once more, but it was looking as if she didn't have a choice; if
he was here, then she'd have to leave sooner than she expected.
Rolling her shoulders uneasily, she took a few more shots, keeping her face cool and expressionless, (no sense in letting the little bastard know that he'd rattled her), but wasn't keen on the lighting or the limited view. Frowning, she studied the area from all potential angles and then picked up her bag; heading to what she thought would be the best vantage point. Keeping a wary eye on the gathering crowd, on the off chance she detected anything outside the ordinary, Liz weaved her way between bystanders and rescue workers silently, her muscles tense and coiled, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice if necessary.
Yet, at the same time, she threw up a bit of power, which acted like a glamour, that made her appear unconcerned and completely comfortable and at home with her surroundings. She knew that would infuriate him more than had she called him out. He hated being ignored. And if was one of the other factions, there was no sense in alerting them that she had spied them.
But paying so much attention to certain aspects had left her at a disadvantage; especially when it came to a certain detective with catlike grace and even quieter footsteps, which is why she missed his approach until a hand on her shoulder pulled her out of her dark thoughts.
“Mick,” she gasped, turning wide, startled eyes towards her would-be assailant and then rested a hand over her rapidly thrumming heart when he looked down on her with a concerned smile. "You scared the hell out of me."
“Sorry, Liz,” he returned affably, but she noted the question in his eyes as he flicked that concerned blue gaze over her taut features, quietly noting her jumpiness and filing it away for later inspection. She had to be more careful or she'd give everything away.
"I tried calling out to you, but you were so involved in your work, I guess you didn't hear me."
Mick followed that observation with a bit of a skeptical look, but Liz just nodded and smiled weakly, silently going along with his interpretation of the events. She really didn't want to explain why she hadn't heard him, nor the reason behind her shakiness. The less people involved in her mess, the better. When others cared, and questioned, they ended up dead.
Tugging at her locket absently, she smiled at the older man a touch sheepishly. "Sorry. When I get in the zone, I tend to block out everything around me. It used to annoy my parents to no end," she offered by explanation before quickly changing the subject. "So, what are you doing here anyway? Did something happen to Beth..."
"No, nothing like that," Mick chuckled, both reassuring her and yet disconcerting her as his level gaze said he hadn’t been fooled by her explanation in the least. But he let it go, and looked at the remains of the building in front of them with a wry smile. "I was meeting a client nearby and heard the explosion. This is the kind of thing that Beth loved to get her fingers in before she quit BuzzWire and I hurried over before remembering she doesn't work there anymore. Knee jerk reaction. This is precisely the kind of trouble she liked back then. I was forever pulling her out of scrapes."
“Isn’t that the truth?” Liz laughed, her voice sounding shaky to her own ears and she only hoped the other man didn't detect it as well. But having heard some of the stories about her friend’s reporting days, she supposed that she shouldn’t be all that surprised to see Mick. “Lucky for you, Ben has her picking up some computer chip for one of his cases, and doing some research on the other side of the city today.”
“I don’t know if I’m relieved to hear that, or now twice as concerned with that information,” Mick joked, his eyes flicking over the scene, as if he too could pick up something foul in the air; Liz cringed internally, chastising herself for being so obvious in front of her far-too-observant friend. “Knowing Beth the way I do; it's bound to end in a disaster somehow."
Liz laughed at Mick's exasperated look. He did know her friend all too well.
"So, what are you doing here?” he asked as he turned his attention back to her.
“Freelance gig for BuzzWire,” Liz grinned, chuckling as Mick sent her a weary look since that was the agency Beth had worked for before she got a job with the district attorney's office. He was likely wondering if Liz was going to need rescuing as well. "They asked me to take a few digital stills to accompany their later updates.”
"You're not going to go off chasing bad guys, are you?" Mick asked nervously, jokingly stepping in front of her, as if shielding her from some unseen threat. If he only knew. But Liz just laughed and shook her head, a warm glow flowing over her heart at his concern nonetheless.
"Um...no," Liz snickered. "I'll leave that to you and Beth."
They fell into a companionable silence as she knelt down and fired off a few more shots with her camera, especially when the workers seemed to get excited by some find. Perhaps she should get her digital out in case something significant happened? Snapping two more shots, she stored the Pentax and took out her digital just as they pulled another survivor from the wreckage, strapping her carefully to a backboard to prevent any other damage.
Standing up, she fired off a few snaps and then dropped her camera, watching the scene forlornly, her fingers twitching to help the woman, to heal her enough so that she would survive the trip to the hospital, but she knew she had no viable reason to approach the victim, and her powers were far too noticeable even if she could. Sometimes having such gifts sucked. Turning away, she sighed and then stiffened as the weight of covetous eyes slid over her once more, sending her own dancing over the crowd once more.
Seriously, what was his issue? She wished he just get on with whatever he planned and then leave her the fuck alone.
"Are you okay, Liz?" Mick asked quietly, startling her out of her thoughts. Glancing up at the astute man, she winced and cursed herself silently for forgetting he was there.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, flashing him a bright smile that didn't quite meet her eyes, and then turning away hoping he hadn't caught that as well. Having smart, observant friends was a detriment at times like this. Licking her lips, she flicked a small glance at Mick and, again, tried to divert the attention away from herself. “You? Were you able to get that trip planned? You know the one for…what anniversary are you celebrating again?”
“When we first met,” Mick replied, sending her a skeptical glance that said he was all too aware of her deflection, even as a blush stained his cheeks at her indulgent smile. “Don’t look at me like that; Beth is all about these things and I merely accommodate her.”
“Right,” Liz drawled, her tone reflecting her disbelief. “Not a romantic bone in your body. You keep telling yourself that Mr. Roses-Just-Because-They-Reminded-Me-Of-You. I don’t know why you bother to deny your romantic streak. Most men would settle for taking the woman to dinner…if the recalled the day at all.”
“Yeah, well…” Mick shrugged sheepishly. “Good memory.”
Liz's smile faltered at that comment, causing her to avert her eyes as they filled, recalling another someone that had an impeccable memory, and who used to make a fuss over the littlest things like Mick did.
Well, actually, two someones, she thought with a grimace. Only the first did it in an effort to bind her to a path that had long since lost its enchantment. It was supposed to make her feel special and cared for, but only left her feeling tainted and suffocated.
But the other - the other had been lovely, and he had only done it because each of those moments had been just as important, just as meaningful to him.
Closing her eyes as Michael's face flashed before them, Liz took a steadying breath, trying to push aside the suffocating sense of grief that threatened to fall over her once more.
“Are you sure you’re doing all right, Liz?” Mick asked softly, startling her out of her thoughts once more. “You look a bit pale and tired lately.”
She really had to get hold of herself; this drifting off into thought and losing track of her surroundings could prove to be detrimental. Opening her eyes, she gave him a half-hearted smile and shrugged. “Yeah, of course; I just didn’t sleep well last night. I got caught up in developing some pictures, and then my neighbor was having a party or something.”
“Didn’t call it in?” Mick asked doubtfully.
“No, point,” she explained as she turned away to close up her bag, fervently hoping that he'd drop the subject. “By the time I got fed up, the party had broken up.”
“Liz..." Mick began much to her chagrin, but then he paused, obviously noting her closed off expression. Sighing, he looped an arm protectively around her shoulders and said. "I hope you know that you can talk to Beth and me about anything.”
“Of course I do,” she nodded, feeling slightly guilty even as she said it, since she knew full well that she had no intentions of sharing this ever, if she had a choice.
“It’s just that..." Mick paused again, searching for words as he studied her face carefully, and then pressed on. “Look, I don’t want to pry, but Beth mentioned that you’ve been tired, out of sorts and jumpy for a couple of weeks now and…”
“I’m fine,” she snapped defensively, her tone fully demonstrating that she really wasn't, making Mick raise his brows in surprise. Inhaling deeply, she pressed her lips together and then gave him a weak smile, and said in a calmer voice. “I am. Really. I'm just tired.”
“Okay,” Mick responded carefully, sounding less than convinced by her explanation, but unwilling to push further. “Beth has just been worried, and I promised to ask.”
“That’s so sweet of you,” Liz cooed, smirking when Mick huffed and rolled his eyes at her tone, tugging on her shoulders and pulling her away from the crowd. “But really, it’s nothing to worry about.”
“Right,” Mick nodded, his eyes conveying his doubts as he reached for her bag, and slung it over his shoulder, and then offered her his arm. “At least let me carry that for you.”
“Always the gentlemen,” Liz teased, trying to put them back onto a lighter note as she slid her hand onto the crook of his elbow before muttering darkly to herself. “Too bad there aren’t more like you in the world.”
Mick frowned, as if he caught the end of her statement, but she merely smiled at him brightly, allowing him to gently herd her towards her car. Truthfully, she was thankful to have someone there as she still couldn't help feeling like someone was watching her. Glancing back over her shoulder, she took one last look around and met with a set of familiar amber eyes. Halting mid-step, she stared, her heart and blood freezing as lips thinned and then smirked knowingly; and then she blinked and they were gone.
Swallowing thickly, she frantically searched the surrounding area, her heart thundering in her ears, but came up with nothing in the end, and she couldn't be certain if she had truly seen him, or if it had been her eyes playing tricks on her.
Shivering, she turned back to the man beside her, squirming uncomfortably under his hard gaze. She had utterly forgotten he was there, watching her every movement in her panic; but this time she didn't even bother to shield the confusion and frustrated fear that swam in her eyes. She knew that it was pointless as he'd already seen too much. Staring into suspicion-riddled eyes, Liz tried to come up with a plausible explanation for her behavior, but drew a blank as Mick spoke once more.
"I know you've got secrets, Liz; and I know that you don't want to rely on anyone. But there
will come a time when you
must seek help. When that happens; when that time comes, just know that I'm here for you and willing to do so, okay?"
Liz nodded miserably, her throat constricting as her eyes filmed over; she hadn't felt this cared for since...well, since Michael, and she couldn't help but feel thankful that she had met Beth, and subsequently Mick through her. Even if she couldn't bring herself to pull them into her mess. Blinking the tears away, she swallowed harshly and allowed Mick to lead her away, wondering how she'd gotten so lucky to find true friendship again.
... ... ...
Mick entered his office silently, his mind a million miles away - or at the very least, about twenty-five miles away with a certain twitchy brunette mystery - which is why he failed to notice that he wasn't alone. Tossing his keys onto the desk, he went to his fridge and pulled out a bag of blood and poured its contents into a highball glass before shutting the fridge once more. Walking back to his chair, he sipped at the nutrient-rich liquid and closed his eyes with a sigh.
Being out in the sunlight, while not fatal for a vampire, was certainly not the best thing either, and bright rays really took it out of him today. As an investigator, he often tried to keep his business relegated to the evening, but sometimes he didn't have much of a choice, but to head out in peak sunlight hours if he wanted to get his job done.
Or in this case, if he wanted to observe his new mystery out in the open when she wasn't aware that she was being followed.
But he really hated the drain the sun put on his system; one only rectified by drinking the red liquid that his darling ex-wife had chained him too in a moment of absolute selfishness on their wedding night. That certainly hadn't been the surprise he had been expecting when she said she had a gift for him. He truly despised her for that.
Setting his glass of blood onto the desk, he sank back into his chair wearily, shunting aside the bitter thoughts that always came with the memory of Coraline, and allowed the life giving force to work its magic while he turned over the puzzle of Liz in his mind. He had spent several minutes observing her before he had made his approach, all the while lying about why he had been there in the first place - something that still twinged his conscience due to his strict Catholic upbringing.
But had he said he was there to check up on her, well, he knew that would have raised her hackles and made her shut up tighter than a clam. And those few moments had served their purpose - they told him that Beth had been right; something was stalking the pretty brunette, but he couldn't figure out just what.
Mick stared blankly at his glass, picking it up and turning it in his hands as he ran through their conversation once more, ferreting out any useful information; but nothing stood out other than her behavior, which was at odds with her casual commentary. Liz had been impressively tight-lipped about the situation and that in itself made him leery. Even her behavior wasn't obvious unless you knew what you were looking for (or had a super scent like he did). To the undiscerning eye, she appeared to merely scan her environment for potential photos. But he had detected the sharp, acrid scent of fear and knew better.
Not to mention the panic that flared in her eyes.
That look had disturbed him, cementing the suspicions Beth had raised in the back of his head with her comments on Liz acting like a stalking victim. She was being hunted; although by whom, (or even what), he couldn't fathom. His immediate guess was an ex-boyfriend or husband, but he knew that Liz's previous significant other had died in a fire; and she hadn't mentioned anyone else of significance in their few conversations.
He didn't for one moment believe that trumped up party excuse, light sleeper that he knew her to be from observation when she slept over one late night; which also raised a red flag. As a vampire, he naturally moved silently, and when he came out for a drink that night, she had sat bolt upright, her eyes wild with panic, almost as if she'd sensed him coming - a habit that wasn't natural for most humans.
Finishing the blood off with a large gulp, Mick set the glass aside and rubbed a weary had over his face, making a mental note to keep better tabs on the brunette. He'd backed off on his questioning as he caught the quicksilver flash of panic in her eyes; one that spoke of dark secrets, and he hadn't wanted her to feel threatened, causing her to run before he could help. As he was certain she would do if pressed too hard.
But that also didn't mean he was dropping the reaction altogether. He'd long despised men, and women for that matter, that preyed upon those weaker than themselves and he wasn't about to let his friend be a victim to some sick fuck's twisted view of love and courtship.
"You look pensive," a voice carried across the room, startling him out of his deep, troubled thoughts with a silent cry.
"Fucking hell, Josef," he growled, bristling when the elder vampire just smirked at his reaction. And then he grew annoyed with himself for failing to notice another presence in the room. It was difficult to fool a vamp's senses, especially that of smell, and he didn't like that he had been so concerned with other matters that he'd missed his friend sitting directly in front of him. Had it been an enemy...well, he didn't want to think about that. "Warn a man before you do that."
"I'm surprised I was able to catch you off guard," Josef replied, his tone hardening as the smirk faded into a stony expression. Mick winced internally as he could just hear the lecture vamping up behind the cool, implacable gaze that landed on him. "I do hope that I don't have to remind you how detrimental that can be; it's a newbie mistake and one we can't afford. What if I had been Lance or someone else who isn't particularly enamored of your continued existence?"
"I'm well aware of how foolish my actions were," Mick responded testily, annoyed that his friend of nearly fifty years had chastised him as one would a fledgling; although, he supposed he was still considered one compared to a vampire Josef's age.
"Are you?" Josef continued implacably, raising a single brow when Mick huffed his displeasure, but seemed otherwise content that he'd made his point effectively. "Do I dare to ask what, or should I say
whom, has you so distracted that you completely missed the fact that I have been sitting across from you for the past ten minutes? Had I been anyone else..."
"Yes, yes, I get it! Bad vampire," Mick snapped, rolling his eyes mentally when Josef compressed his lips and steeple his fingers thoughtfully. "You needn't belabor the point."
"So?" Josef prompted after a moment's silence.
"So, what?" he replied impatiently, unable to help feeling a bit churlish at the reprimand. He hated that his friend had been witness to his folly, as Josef didn't suffer fools and he was well aware that he hadn't heard the end of his rash behavior, even if Josef had tabled it for the time being.
“Want to fill me in on just what has you so worked up that you failed to take the necessary precautions?" Josef asked, a small frown tugging at his lips as he studied Mick.
On his part, Mick remained silent for a long moment, wondering if he should confide his suspicions about Liz to his friend as he idly played with the highball sitting on his desk. Josef had been acting strangely around the brunette, inordinately interested in her comings and goings since they'd met at the party; something that was unlike him. He'd always been aware that Josef was a bit of a womanizer, and liked to surround himself with cream of the crop, but that didn't explain his fascination with Liz.
While Mick adored the brunette to pieces, and thought she was reasonably attractive, she wasn't Josef's usual fare. He tended to go for the glitz and glam - stunningly beautiful women, who weren't always the brightest bulb in the box, but were spectacular arm candy and knew their place, which was on the fringes of his life. Liz...Liz didn't fit those requirements. She
was beautiful in that understated way, but she was far too intelligent and independent to last as one of Josef's 'girls' (read freshie).
The again, when he considered Sarah and Simone, perhaps he was wrong. She might just have the requirements to win a part of the vampire's heart that had been closed off since Sarah's failed Turning. But whatever it was, Josef's interest was heightened in a way that concerned Mick; perhaps even to the point of following her? It would kill two birds with one stone if he said something, effectively warning his friend that he was getting sloppy if that were the case.
But somehow, he doubted it; his instincts were screaming that Liz's problem was more than met the eye.
"Liz," he admitted finally, his eyes flicking over his friend seriously as the other man perked up instantly at the name.
Smirking internally, Mick watched as Josef struggled between asking more and waiting him out; and then standing without a word, he grabbed the now empty highball, and walked towards the sink. Two could play this game and he really wanted to see how long Josef would wear the unconcerned, indifferent mask he presented to the world despite his interest in Liz. Letting the silence stretch between them, he carefully rinsed out that glass out and set it to the side before he turned, just catching the concern flitting over his friend's face before it blanked once more.
So he was right; Liz did affect him somehow.
"Beth mentioned that she had been acting odd a few nights ago," he continued as he walked back to his chair.
“Odd?" Josef queried, keeping his voice light and indifferent as he picked at an invisible piece of lint on his suit; Mick snorted internally as he sat down, not at all fooled by the bland smile Josef pasted on his face as he asked. "How so?"
Oh, yes; Josef was inordinately interested in his and Beth's friend. Most of the time, when Mick mentioned a case or one of his human contacts, Josef was dismissive and didn't bother to press for information. He felt they were beneath his notice unless they threatened his empire. The only human to have crossed that boundary was Beth, whom the vampire had grown reluctantly fond of through their investigations. And the fact that he asked what he meant at all was a great indication of how much Liz had rattled him.
"She's been on edge lately," he replied as he sank back into his chair, fixing Josef with a searching gaze, and hid a smile behind his hand when Josef looked at him sharply. "Beth says that she' been acting jumpy; like a cornered mouse, always looking over her shoulder and seems to be losing sleep. And from what little I've observed today, Beth is right. Liz...she's acting as if she's being watched or stalked."
"Really," Josef replied blandly; but Mick could tell that his words had discomfited the vampire. It wasn't his face or actions that gave it away; no, it was his complete lack of reaction that showed Josef's hand. It was always what he
didn't do that spoke volumes. How intriguing.
"Yes," Mick continued, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully as he looked away from Josef; there was something there. He knew in his gut Josef was up to something, but that honed instinct still chattered that Josef wasn't the problem. And he didn't plan to ignore that voice. He had when it came to Coraline and look what that got him. "She's being hunted; I'm sure of it. And it has me concerned, quite frankly, as she doesn't want to talk about it."
"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually," Josef said as he slapped his hands on his knees and stood abruptly, and headed towards the door with careless shrug. "I best be going. People to corrupt, corporations to take over; you know the deal."
"Oh, hey," Mick called to his back. "Was there something you needed?"
"Nothing in particular," Josef shrugged, stopping just inside the door with a frown. "Just checking in before I crush yet another CEO when I tell him he now works for me."
"Ah, checking up on me, Daddy?" Mick teased, smirking when Josef shot him a look of utter contempt. "How sweet."
"I am
not your sire," Josef scoffed with more exasperation than true anger, making Mick snicker at the long standing joke. Well not that long as it had been only a few months prior that Josef had returned him to his vampire state after taking Coraline's little temporary human fix. Shaking his head, he chuckled as Josef sniffed. "I feel absolutely no tie of responsibility towards you in the least."
“Of course not," Mick smirked. "That's why you randomly show up at my place to check up on me and ask how my day's been...Dad."
"I should have just let Lance stake you and been done with it," Josef muttered as he opened the door.
"That wouldn't have killed me," Mick called after him.
"No, but at least you'd shut up and it would give me a measure of peace if I had," Josef sneered as he slammed the door behind him.
Mick snickered to himself, dragging a thick pile of pending and current cases over to him with a grin at Josef's grandstanding, before getting lost in his work.
... ... ...
Josef exited the building much more solemn than he had entered it, his mind still stuck on the information that Mick had given him in regards to Liz's behavior; he had thought he'd been subtle in his observations, but apparently not enough. Then again, he had always been a bit rash when it came to his desire, so he might not have shielded for all he was worth, and somehow she had picked up on his presence. He had to wonder if it had anything to do with the underlying power he had sensed coursing through her veins, just barely detectable to those who chose to notice.
And he had; chose to notice that is.
How could he not when she brought so many memories to the fore?
Mick had obviously missed that surge of electricity rippling around her in a thin coat; but that was to be expected given that Mick was distracted by all things Beth, not to mention that he was nearly four times the other vampire's age. He was far more skilled in searching for that otherworldly power that lurked under seemingly human faces.
And then there was her scent - it was human, but not. There was something more there, something different, something he'd never scented before and it confused him.
And he hated that; he intensely disliked enigmas walking around in his territory. It often led to things getting messy, fast. Especially when they tugged at his senses the way this human did.
Shadowing his face from the sun, he stepped out from beneath the canopy above the doorway and hurried to his waiting town car, sliding in and firmly closing out the bright rays. Unbuttoning his suit jacket, he settled in for the ride, still pondering the mystery of Elizabeth Jefferson as his chauffer slid into the driver's seat.
"Where to, Mr. Kostan?" Jerald asked, looking at him with a touch of concern from the rearview mirror.
"To the office," he answered absently, waving off the other man's concern as he got lost in his thoughts once more.
The information that he'd gotten from Coraline had been enlightening, but not helpful in the least. After much aggravation, and figuratively pulling teeth (which he'd deal with at a later date), he'd finally confirmed beyond a doubt that Liz wasn't Avelina; his sire was indeed dead, having burned at the stake as a witch. Despite the similarities in their appearances, Liz wasn't on the compound and she wasn't even aware that vampires existed except for in movies. It was just a weird coincidence.
Or was it?
Sarah had also reminded him a lot of Avelina; she had a lot of the same traits and physical feature as his sire, which is why he'd been drawn to her.
Sarah. The one time he'd even considered turning a human and it was an utter failure (Mick didn‘t count as he had already been a vampire and was only on a drug that made him appear human for a while). Rubbing a hand over his chest, trying to soothe the ache that burned every time he thought of his lost love, Josef closed his eyes and swallowed harshly, the saliva trickling down his throats like shards of glass. He missed Sarah every day, but he also knew that Beth had been right when she talked him into letting her go. It
hadn't been fair to her, and Sarah wouldn't have wanted to live in a perpetual coma on some farfetched hope that she might one day awaken.
Opening his eyes, he shunted the memories aside and focused on the task on hand. He had learned long ago that dwelling on the fragility that was human life would drive him mad if he let it; and he couldn't afford that in his position. The vampire that didn't adapt and grow, was a vampire that got careless, which quickly led to his death. And he wasn't quite ready to meet his maker - either of them.
Coraline had settled his lingering doubts on Avelina, mentioning that she and Lance had been witness to the fact that his sire had been destroyed and there was no way Liz was pulling...well, a Coraline, if you will. If anything, Coraline had postulated that Liz was a distant relation, a descendant of Avelina's line. And that he could believe.
But her sudden appearance into his life still disturbed him; although now, it was due to the unknown entity that was in his lands rather than a personal threat. He didn't like her running around his city unchecked, potentially causing problems for him and his tribe. But what could he do? She firmly ensconced in his life via Beth and Mick; and he couldn't very well just up and make her disappear due to that friendship. Especially now that Mick was on the alert that something was amiss in Elizabeth Jefferson's life.
Shaking his head, Josef forced his thoughts away from his latest quandary and picked up his phone to check his messages to see if there was anything pressing before he told the useless CEO of his newest acquisition that he was being demoted. Scrolling through his email, he sighed at the endless, stupid questions shunted his way - ones that were easily solved had the persons sending them had an ounce of creativity and a functioning brain cell - and then froze when he spied the words,
Pink Petticoat, in the subject line of one.
It was Coraline's code name; one they had set up when she fled from her brother and his henchmen as a way to get in touch if something of importance came up. Given that there was no love lost between them due to the way she'd treated Mick, and that she'd never bothered to send him a note before, he knew that whatever lay behind that innocuous title was going to irrevocably fuck up his world.
Clicking on the note with a heavy sense of trepidation, he quietly read it and then swore under his breath at the contents:
'Your recent interest in a certain substance, as well as my faked death, has been noted by those who are in charge. Be prepared for a visit by those that remain nameless.'
Fuck. Just what he needed on top of everything else - an inquiry from The Elders.
... ... ...
Liz stood, her muscles stiff and joints creaking from sitting in one position for so long, but she also couldn't help feeling a certain level of satisfaction as she clicked the enter button, sending the digital photos she'd been editing to BuzzWire. The ones she'd sent on told the story in perfect, gritty detail and she couldn't help the pride that sung through her veins at the quality. She supposed she could have sent the lump of them, but she didn't feel the need to overwhelm the server with subpar images and she was certain Ellie, her editor, would appreciate her discretion.
Yawning, she glanced at the clock and started at how much time had passed; no wonder she was feeling so stiff and her stomach felt as if it were trying to gnaw a hole in itself - she had started her project well over six hours ago. Running a hand through her hair, she sighed and quickly made her way into the kitchen where she grabbed a yogurt and a banana to ease the hunger pains and wondered if she should bother cracking open her camera and developing the black and whites tonight.
On the one hand, she really wanted to get some new stuff out for her website; but on the other hand, she knew that whenever she entered her darkroom, she lost all sense of time as she coaxed images from her film and she did have to be up for an appointment tomorrow. Something about shooting some dogs for a program, a task she was dreading as animals were so much more difficult to work with than humans.
Groaning, she tossed aside her yogurt container and the banana peel, and wondered not for the first time why she'd taken the job as it promised to be nothing but a headache. But it was also good money, so she'd just have to suck it up, and pretend that there was nothing more important than a bunch of yappy, fluffy dogs dressed in ridiculous outfits. She could do this.
Really.
Sighing as the little voice in the back of her head mocked her for her false cheer, Liz grabbed her camera bag and headed into her makeshift darkroom, which really had been a second bathroom before her powers got hold of it (she'd have to set that to rights once she moved on) and promised herself that she'd only work a couple of hours. She completely ignored the little voice that expressed its doubt at that. It knew her far too well and she was too tired to protest its very realistic claims.
Great, now she was having conversations with the voices in her head; that couldn't be good.
After getting her film ready, Liz went through the motions of developing it and then cut the finished film in strips before placing it on her enlarger in order to make a proof sheet. Having done this so many times before she went on automatic - enter the light proof box, load her film, seal the containers shut, place them in the developer bath, set them, rinse them, (developer, stop bath, fixer, water), pull them out, dry them with a gentle zap of her powers, and then make her proof sheets (developer, stop bath, fixer, water).
It was a nice comfortable routine that put her in the zone and calmed the jitters form earlier.
Yawning again, she pulled her proofs from the water with her tongs and gave a little flick of her hand to dry the paper. She didn't do that for her real photos, but since this was just a proof paper so she could see just which pictures she wanted to develop, she wasn't as careful. Setting the tongs back in the bath, she took the proof outside to get a better look at in the light, snagging a lens on the way, and then froze as a familiar set of eye stared out at her from the middle of the page.
The face was blurry, it was hard to make out the lines of his features considering he hadn't been the focus, but those eyes - cold, calculating, just a touch off - she'd recognize them anywhere. Crying out, she dropped both the lens and the paper, jumping back from them as if they had burned her and then stared in disbelief as the proof that he found her once more fluttered innocuously to the floor.
How had he tracked her down? She had been so certain she'd left no clue behind.
Drawing a shuddering breath, she swallowed convulsively as that low burning fear that was always present in her mind splashed over her like ice water, sending a chill through her body. She had to get out of there. She had to run, to find somewhere new, to lose herself and hopefully him once more. She had to...but she couldn't seem to move as memories assaulted her - pain slicing through her body, like a million hot needles as the bond between she and Michael snapped, the hazy void that surrounded her as she frantically sought him, only to be pushed back into her body time and again, the smell of phantom soot and the burning of flames as his body dissolved, the scream that seemed to rent her inside out as....
Gasping, Liz barely jerked herself out of the vicious cycle, her body shaking with the effort as she stared once more at the slip of paper that had changed her life once more. And then needing to confirm her suspicions, she stepped back over to it and pick up the proof sheet with trembling fingers, and just stared with growing despair.
He was there plain as day.