charityz

Note to beta readers

2008-05-07T17:00:56Z

I have had to go back and add a couple of short scenes in the previous text of Nemesis. I needed some scenes from different points of view than Mercy's, both to establish that I can shift point of view in this book (and those to come) and to relay some information to you, the readers, that I couldn't through Mercy's eyes. These added scenes are in the very beginning of Chapters 2 and 6, which have been updated here. Please go back and read these, if it won't confuse you too much to backtrack, and let me know if the addition of this material works or does not work for you.

Thanks.

Reorganizing!

2008-02-12T19:15:56Z

Since neither book will just shut up and let me write the other one, I have two WIPs going. That makes it kind of tough for posting, or for those of you reading, to easily find and read all chapters associated with a particular WIP. So I've done some reorganization around here to try and make it easier.

From now on, all chapters from McClairen and Callista's book (working title 'McClairen') will be tagged mcclairen, and all chapters from the space pirates book (working title 'Nemesis') will be tagged nemesis. I will put the tags in the sidebar, so all you have to do is click on the appropriate tag, and all entires associated with that WIP will pop up in chronological order. Newest to oldest, so scroll back to get to where you last left off, and start reading from there.

Other than starting yet another journal, I couldn't see a better way of doing this. Let me know if it works for you.

Also, a note on Nemesis - I added a prelude and reworked Chapter 1, so the old Chapter has been removed, and the new version is being uploaded.

Chapter 33

2007-03-19T18:52:48Z

Chapter Thirty-three

Parr hated Zoltan’s Province, and not just because it was particularly unwelcoming to his kind. There was something here, in the dry dust of the land, the heaviness of the air, that offended him on some deep, visceral level. It darkened his mood accordingly, which probably wasn’t all bad.

He didn’t go straight to the palace. Wouldn’t want some startled moroii guard to get himself killed just because he misunderstood Parr’s presence. Instead, he stepped out of shadow behind the bar he’d once visited here, and walked his way through the city. He kept his head down as he passed townsfolk on their evening business. This was a largely moroii populated town, the human half tending to live on the outskirts of the city, as if that would spare them Zoltan’s notice, somehow.

Not likely – it was no secret that Zoltan, like his father before him, processed humans for the blood in their bodies like livestock. He used the prisons, draining prisoners and making barrels of spiced blood as though he were making varieties of wine. And maybe that’s how the moroii saw it. Parr grimaced. He couldn’t imagine anything more revolting than dead, flavored blood, unless it was aged, dead and flavored blood. He wondered that any humans remained living here at all, but then, as a population they tended to believe whatever fiction their Lord spun them – like Zoltan’s affirmation that only the criminals of their society would be used as living donors. Parr couldn’t cast too many aspirations; he, too, had once believed Zoltan’s lies.

The last time he’d been through, he’d sensed a small number of Old Ones. That number appeared to have dwindled even further, not a heartening sign. He didn’t need the wrong kind of attention, not now.

He should have known his usual luck would hold.

“Hey.”

He tried to quicken his pace, and ignore the man who’d stopped suddenly in the street to stare at him. He didn’t move quite fast enough.

“I know you.” A hand snaked around his arm, and he made himself stop. A violent display in the middle of the street wasn’t exactly how he wanted to announce his presence.

“I doubt it,” he said, instead.

“No, I do. You’re…”

Parr glanced sideways at the man’s face, and went cold. There was no mistaking the eyes, a blue so dark they were almost black, or the long, thick hair that shone gold, with hints of mahogany and copper under the street lanterns. Tall, impressively large across his shoulders and chest, with skin a shade lighter than bronze. Parr had seen him before, and wasn’t likely to forget it. Fuck me. He closed his eyes.

“…Masters, right? Parr Masters. You’re the one.”

No mistaking that thickly disapproving tone, either. Of all the people to run into, it had to be one of Zoltan’s Hellriders. And of all the Hellriders, it had to be Jake. Gaia’s half-human, prodigal son. Son of a bitch.

He couldn’t lie to a Demi-God.

“Yep,” he said, opening his eyes. “I’m the one.”

He wasn’t surprised to see shock and anger overtake Jake’s features, or tighten the hand holding Parr’s arm until he thought he could hear his own bones grinding together. He didn’t wince, just stared calmly back. He was used to dealing with the contempt and rage of others by now.

But he was surprised to see Jake make an obvious effort at mastering his emotions, forcing his face back into carefully neutral lines. The Hellrider looked around covertly, and then jerked Parr off the street, into a side alley.

“I’d ask what you’re doing here,” said Gaia’s son, “but I already know.”

“Do you?” Parr raised an eyebrow, couldn’t quite keep the sneering skepticism off his face. “I doubt it.”

Jake jerked him close, enough so that Parr could see the storm clouds gathering in the dark pupils of his eyes, literally. He suppressed a sigh. Mentally kicked himself for antagonizing a man who could fry his ass with a lightning bolt anytime he damn well wanted.

“Don’t provoke me, traitor. My mother would consider your death a cherished gift, and right now it’s one I’m sorely tempted to give her.”

“That would be a mistake,” Parr said. “For all of us.”

“Yes, and that’s the only reason you’re still alive – in a manner of speaking, vampire.”

Parr shrugged as Jake set him back and finally let go of his arm.

“Not my choice,” he said irritably.

“You’re just lucky you’re needed.” Jake folded his arms over his chest, glaring.

“Needed.” A sardonic smile twisted Parr’s lips. “And I bet that pisses Gaia the hell off.”

Jakes brows drew together, and Parr reminded himself not to push him, tempting as it was.

“All right, all right,” he said, holding up his hands. “No more cracks from me, and no more cracks from you, okay? We both want the same thing here.”

“Do we, traitor?”

Parr grit his teeth, and reminded himself that sanctimonious superiority went hand in hand with being a God, even a Demi-God. But fuck, it pissed him off. He shrugged.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said sarcastically. “We probably don’t. I mean, hey, why not let Zoltan slaughter what’s left of the Romani people? And while we’re at it, you and the other Hellriders can help him do it, since you probably don’t give a fuck about being freed from your curse anytime soon.”

Jake’s hands clenched into fists, but before he could respond, a figure materialized out of the shadows beside them, strolling almost casually into the alley. He was, as always, impeccably dressed in black silk.

“Don’t, Jake,” said Anton mildly. “He’s right. Like it or hate it, we all need each other.”

Jake said something in a language Parr didn’t recognize, and Anton smiled.

“Yes, well. He may earn that fate before this is done. After all, Parr and betrayal go hand in hand. Isn’t that right, Masters?”

Parr’s anger had turned icy cold the instant Anton entered the alley. Now he met the other vampire’s gaze evenly.

“That’s why I’m here,” he said.

“And Demetrius?” asked Anton. “Does he know how to remove our curse yet? It will do little good for you to lead us into a trap, if the six of us can decimate whatever forces Demetrius has managed to gather.”

“That’s his problem,” said Parr, with a flick of his fingers. “And yours.” He paused, wrestling with himself. Finally, he said, “One of the shuv’hani had a vision. I’m pretty sure there’s a way for your curse to be broken, and if things go right, it will be.”

“Pretty sure?” repeated Jake. Parr shrugged.

“You Hellriders can’t die, so long as you’re bound to your demons, right? So yeah. Pretty fucking sure.”

Both men stared at him for a moment.

“Who?” asked Jake finally. “Who dies?”

Parr crossed his arms.

“Ask Zoltan’s mystic, if you really want to know. Speaking of which, are we going to waste the night away insulting each other? Or are you going to take me to Zoltan, so we can get on with this?”

“Jake.” Anton put a hand on the other man’s arm, stopping his movement forward. “It’s better if we don’t know. Too much knowledge is very dangerous, when Zoltan takes control of our Raither forms.”

“Fine.” The Demi-God frowned, but backed off. “Then Masters is right. Let’s stop wasting time.” He turned and strode from the alley.

When Anton went to follow him, Parr moved. He shoved the other vampire against the wall, his blade at his throat. He was careful to keep his anger locked away, behind a wall of ice.

“What—?”

“Stay out of this, Jake.”

“Yes, Jake,” said Anton, apparently amused, “do let Parr have his say. He obviously has something on his—”

“Just so we’re clear,” Parr said coldly, “if you so much as look in my wife’s direction again, I’ll make sure you don’t live long enough to enjoy being free.”

“Wife?” Anton’s brows went up in surprise, and his eyes flicked down to the hand gripping his shirt. “Ah, so you married the girl.” A faint smile touched his lips. “How noble of you, Parr. I wouldn’t have thought—”

Parr pressed the blade deep enough to have blood trickling down Anton’s pale skin, and the Aset Ka’s smile vanished in a hiss of indrawn breath.

“I don’t give a fuck what you thought, Anton, or even why you did it. But you won’t be doing it again. Ever. Understand?”

“Yes,” said Anton finally. “Your vulgar tactics aside, I had no intention of approaching the poor girl again. It was unfortunate that you ended up in that city, on that particular night, Parr. I couldn’t risk you interfering in my business there. And if the dhampir had sensed me…”

“Your word,” said Parr flatly. “I know it still holds some meaning for you, Anton.”

“As you wish. You have my word, that I will not again affect, nor feed from your lovely wife’s emotions.”

Parr stepped back, deliberately wiped his blade clean on Anton’s silk shirt, and sheathed it. He smiled grimly.

“Then we’re good.”

Anton grimaced down at his wrinkled and stained clothing.

“Yes,” he said dryly, “wonderful. Now can we get on with more important matters?”

Parr ignored the disbelieving look Jake gave him as he walked past. He didn’t give a fuck what Gaia’s son thought of him, anymore than he cared about the Goddess herself’s opinion. But he did hear the question Jake asked Anton, as the two began walking behind him.

“He’s married? To who?”

“A delightful young Romani girl, as it happens. I know. I, too, am amazed at his good fortune.”

Parr stopped, swung around, and Anton raised his hands in a placating fashion.

“Not that we should even be speaking of the girl.” He lowered his voice to the parody of a whisper. “It seems to upset him.”

Parr closed his eyes, rubbed wearily at his forehead. Yes, by all the Gods, his luck was certainly back to its usual routine: all bad. He turned on his heel and kept walking, ignoring the two Hellriders.

It wasn’t easy for Elysia, sitting before Demetrius, Oberon, Dom, and McClairen, and talking of the visions Gaia had sent her. This was actually her third time through explaining them; she’d already spoken with Demetrius once, in private. At his suggestion, she was editing certain things out for this telling. The vampire had more empathy than she would have credited him with.

So, when speaking of Oberon and Delilah, she said only that the Romani Queen was wounded, had asked after her son, and had used the all important phrase “we’ve lost.”

“The question being,” said Demetrius, “which side will Delilah fight on?”

“She will fight where she must,” said Oberon immediately. “If she remains one of Zoltan’s Hellriders, she will have no choice but to serve him.” He leaned forward, folding his hands before him. “But if her geas is broken, she will fight beside me, where she belongs.”

“It didn’t…sound…as though she fought beside you,” Elysia said. “And she carried Zoltan’s standard.”

“That’s a good thing,” said McClairen. “If the side she’s on loses, we don’t want her on ours.” He touched Oberon’s shoulder briefly, sympathetically. “No insult meant.”

“Except,” said Elysia wearily, having already been over this ground with Anna-Mona, and again with Demetrius. “Delilah could have been referring to the side she actually fought on, or the side where her loyalty really lies. ‘We’ would seem to encompass both her, and Oberon.”

“So,” said Dom, head in his hands, “what you’re saying here, is we don’t know anything more than we did before?”

“No.” Elysia swallowed, and told them the rest. About Evie and Gaia. Zoltan and his Seer, and finally about Parr. She was prepared for anything from Dom, but it was Oberon who stood up.

“Demetrius, you aren’t seriously trusting Masters?”

The vampire lord sat back, face impassive.

“Parr has more reason to hate Zoltan than he does me,” he said quietly. “And, I think, more reason to be loyal to us than he’s had in many decades.” He glanced at Elysia, and she flushed.

“That one serves nothing but his own interests,” Oberon insisted.

“I don’t think you give the leech enough credit,” McClairen said. “His wife is here. Trust me when I say, he won’t do anythin’ to bring her harm.”

“Don’t be—”

“I agree.”

The words were so quiet Elysia almost didn’t hear them, yet they had an instantaneous effect. Oberon fell silent, and turned an incredulous stare on Dom. So did everyone else. He was looking at Elysia, and she stared back, shocked.

“Parr cared enough to marry her,” he said, dropping his gaze to his folded hands. “He didn’t have to, but he did. He won’t do anything deliberate to hurt her.”

Oberon opened and closed his mouth, and finally sat down.

“I still don’t like depending on him,” he said unhappily.

“It’s necessary.” Demetrius looked at Elysia. “As are the other things our young shuv’hani saw.” He actually winced. “Such as utilizing Evie’s…gift.”

“So you think that’s what she’s meant to do?” asked Elysia.

“What else?” He spread his hands. “You can see the strength of a curser’s power in me, three thousand years after the fact. And if Evie really is Gaia’s granddaughter, I shudder to think how that girl could change the world.”

“But that’s what we’re trying to do,” she insisted, “change the world.”

“Yes,” agreed Oberon, “but using a curser’s power is always dangerous, no matter how good the intent behind it. Evie could, for example, curse Zoltan’s army to die. Simple, right?” He shook his head. “It never is. A disease might strike them, and yes, wipe out Zoltan’s army. But from there, it could spread to the rest of the moroii, and even into the human population. If Evie utters the wrong thing, the shape her power takes could wipe out half the world. Create an apocalypse. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Evie will have to decide,” said Dom. “Elysia’s vision addressed that, too. There was no one else with her, no one but the Goddess. Evie will have to choose to use her gift, and how.”

“This is too important to leave entirely up to a sheltered young girl,” protested Oberon, “even if she is related to Gaia. Surely we can guide her?”

Demetrius laughed.

“Guide a curser?” he asked incredulously. “No one can pick the words of a curse, except the one uttering them. Trust me. One sees many things in the course of millennia. You’ll either confuse the girl into a disaster, or anger her to one even worse. It’s folly to even try.”

“I agree,” Elysia said, “and more, so does Anna-Mona. This is Evie’s task. We need to worry more about the rest of the battle, and less about the things over which we have no control.”

“We can pick our ground,” said McClairen. “Where we’ll meet ‘em, outside this cave of yours, Demetrius. And with the curser’s help, maybe we can even the odds some.” He shook his head. “Raithers, ‘n moroii, ‘n Helldogs, we can handle. But the Hellriders? Now, there’s a problem. Awful hard to defeat somethin’ you can’t kill.”

“Yes,” said Demetrius, “but I’ve got that handled.”

“Do you, now? How, exactly?”

Demetrius looked at Elysia.

“I’d rather not say, as yet,” he said. “But rest assured, I have a plan.”

Parr had impressed the vyusher simply by bringing his wife a severed head. He wondered what the wolves would have to say about this, walking willingly into the seat of Zoltan’s power. Anton and Jake led him down the halls of the palace, past the curious stares of servants and soldiers alike.

Even Delilah stopped them as they passed.

“Masters?” she asked, surprise coloring her voice. Her eyes moved from him to Anton, then to Jake. “Dare I even ask?”

Parr shook his head.

“You don’t want to know.” He paused, then shrugged. “Oberon sends his regards,” he said finally, and watched as her face went white, her eyes widening.

“Oberon?” she said. She stepped closer, put her lips beside Parr’s ear as she gave his arm a painful squeeze. He’d forgotten how strong the Hellrider’s demons made them. “Do not speak of my husband here, within these walls.”

Wincing, but not intimidated by her words, Parr lowered his voice for her alone.

“You’ll be with him soon,” he said. “He’ll look for you, on the field.”

She drew back, stared at him, and he smiled. Anton prodded him forward then, and he let himself be led past her. It was the only time in his life he’d ever seen Delilah speechless.

They took him to Zoltan’s study. It was a remarkably unassuming room, a few chairs and an older wooden desk the only furnishings. The walls were lined with shelves of books. The moroii Lord was standing behind the desk, staring out the window overlooking the city. He’d probably seen them approaching.

“Parr Masters,” he said without turning around. “What a surprise.”

“Really? Somehow I doubt that.”

Zoltan turned. He was dressed casually in a white silk tunic, his posture relaxed. Parr wasn’t fooled. Ignoring Anton and Jake, he crossed to one the chairs and sat down, his own demeanor as casual as Zoltan’s. He wasn’t a naïve youth anymore – he knew the game as well as any of them.

“Thanks,” he said wryly, “for offering me a seat. I’d love to stay, have a bit of a talk.”

“Would you? How interesting.” The moroii sat behind his desk, studying Parr with eyes dark enough to have been Rom. But they weren’t. Zoltan had no Romani blood in his veins. “And what should we talk about?”

“Not going to offer me a drink?” asked Parr.

“No. At least, not until I’ve heard why you’re here.”

“All right.” Parr smiled. “I’m here to offer you what no one else can – the secret to where Demetrius has been hiding away all the Rom.”

“Really.”

“Yep. Really.”

“According to my sources, you’ve been working with Demetrius these days, Parr. Why should I trust you?”

“I only worked with Demetrius because I had to. I’m Rom, and an Old One. Your moroii were starting to hound me wherever I went. Couldn’t get a decent days’ rest without having to kill a couple. Demetrius offered me sanctuary.”

“How foolish of him.”

Parr spread his hands. “How could he refuse? I’m one of his people.”

“Mmmm.” Zoltan leaned back. “And yet, this arrangement has palled for you?”

“I’ve never liked Demetrius, that’s no secret.” Parr grimaced. “And I’m tired of helping a people who spit on me every time I walk past.”

“Ah, still haven’t forgiven your past transgressions, have they? What a surprise. Still, it seems odd that you’d come to me. You don’t like me anymore than you do Demetrius, Parr, and that’s no secret, either.”

“Ah, but you can offer me something he can’t.”

“And here we come to the real reason you’re here.” Zoltan narrowed his eyes. “And, I imagine, what you want in exchange for handing me Demetrius and his gypsies.”

“Yep.” Parr leaned forward. “My one and only offer. Non-negotiable. I take you to Demetrius, and you give me Trevon.”

Zoltan was silent for a long moment, considering.

“Your brother is useful to me,” he said finally.

“Can he give you Demetrius?” Parr shook his head. “Not anymore; I took Demetrius from him, didn’t I? And not only that, but Trevon never could give you the rest of the Rom. I can.” He paused. “I want my brother, dead, and I want what’s mine – his Province. Our father’s Province. I’ll rule in his place, and you’ll still have everything you do now, in addition to so much more.”

“An interesting offer.”

“And a limited one. How long do you think it’ll be before Demetrius moves his people, once he realizes I’ve gone? I’m the traitor, remember? It won’t take much to figure out where I’ve disappeared to. You want him, you better think fast.”

“Quite right. You’ll pardon me if I require confirmation of your intentions, however?”

Parr frowned.

“What sort of confirmation?”

Zoltan looked past him, to Jake.

“Bring the Oracle."

Chapter 20

2006-12-01T19:31:30Z

Ok, so what I had planned for chapter 20 has been split into two, possibly even three chapters. I could wait and post them all at once, but why?

Here's

Chapter Twenty

It wasn’t the most comfortable journey Elysia had ever been on. The traveling wasn’t hard. She’d been doing it her entire life, after all. It was the company that made things difficult.

She knew what it was going to be like before they’d even started. Still in the gypsy camp, Parr and Kel nearly came to blows over the method of travel.

“Horses,” argued Kel, “will allow us to quickly and easily change direction as I track Demetrius.”

“A waste of fucking time and resources,” Parr said, shaking his head, “when I can easily move us from town to town while you refine our direction.”

“And you think horses are a waste of resources?” asked Kel incredulously. “I told Elysia, I can’t pinpoint him exactly enough to make that a viable option. We’d be doing all kinds of second guessing, back tracking, wasting your ability to the point where you’d have to feed much more often.

“Then I guess it’s a lucky thing we’ll be moving from town to town,” said Parr distinctly, “where there’ll be no shortage of opportunities.”

“Sure,” agreed Kel, “until we leave Demetrius’ lands. You think people in Zoltan’s Province are going to line up to offer you dinner?”

“That’s the beauty of not being here. I don’t have to feed from a willing vessel.”

Parr smiled at Elysia as he said this, and she flushed, a headache starting just behind her eyes. She’d just come back from changing out of her Romani garb in favor of the leathers she’d worn before, and was busy strapping on all her weapons. She hefted her sword, seriously debating the wisdom of making Parr bleed. It was a longer blade, heavier than someone her size could normally wield comfortably, but being dhampir did have its advantages. Such as easily being able to severe heads with a single blow. Not that she would. Well, maybe just an arm.

“I wouldn’t,” he said, grinning as she eyed him speculatively, “as Kel just pointed out, you need me with all my blood intact just at the moment.”

“For now,” she agreed with some reluctance, and strapped the sheath to her back.

“I still think horses would be the smarter choice.” Kel was adamant.

His grin faded, Parr looked back at him.

“Look,” he said pleasantly, “just how many pieces would you like Demetrius to be in when we find him? The longer we take, the more chance we run that he won’t be in just one anymore.” He shrugged. “Not that I give a fuck, but I’m sure you do.”

That pretty much silenced Kel’s arguments. Which was how they found themselves shadow-walking from one back alley to another, stopping just long enough for Kel to get his bearings and decide which town they should move to next. It was disorienting, and a lot more wearying than Elysia might have expected. By the fourth jump, she was having trouble getting her feet underneath her when they stepped out from that shadowy place and into the street.

“You two need a rest,” Parr said as Elysia stumbled, catching herself on the brick wall beside them. He eyed her. “Humans weren’t meant to travel the shadows like we do. I should feed anyway, as this is the edge of Demetrius’s Province. How close?” he asked, his gaze shifting to Kel, who frowned and closed his eyes.

“Not close enough.” He opened them again. “He’s a good distance northeast of here.”

“Not in Zoltan’s lands, then,” Parr said, contemplative.

“No. Perhaps they expected us to come after him, and are trying to keep him hidden.”

“Perhaps. There’s a good bit of night left to us. We can still get a fair amount of traveling in, if we only break for an hour or so.” He pushed past them toward the mouth of this particular alley. “Let’s go.”

Feeling drained, Elysia forced her legs to move after him. It was strange, being outside the gypsy camp. Seeing the world and what it had become up close again. The night felt more threatening than it ever had before, a feeling increased by the wariness with which Parr and Kel moved and acted. As though they expected demons to rise up from the very ground and attack them. Which, she supposed, they very well might.

Like the one village she’d been in, people here appeared to keep indoors at night, though the windows and doors weren’t locked and barred quite so tightly. She supposed the larger town gave people a feeling of security the villages and farming communities lacked. She could feel a large vampiric presence here, at least half the populace, and it had her on edge, gooseflesh covering her arms. She rubbed them absently as they moved, and Kel glanced at her, frowning.

“You all right?” he asked as she shivered. “Not coming down sick, are you?”

“No.” Her tone was less than gracious, and she took a breath and tried to modulate it. “There are a lot of vampires here. A few demons, too. I can feel them.”

“A tracking ability?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s how I found Demetrius back in my own time, after…”

“After?” he prompted, when she trailed off. She shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled, looking away as she thought of Danny. “Not anymore.”

“If you two are done holding hands, we could move a bit faster,” Parr drawled from up ahead, earning glares from both Elysia and Kel, who muttered something less than complimentary under his breath.

Parr was suddenly there, right up in Kel’s face, between one blink and the next. Elysia gasped, startled, and Kel swore, falling back two steps.

“If you have a problem with me, mulo, you shouldn’t have invited me along,” said Parr coldly.

Kel swore again. “You’re one to talk, murderer. I’m surprised Gaia doesn’t strike you dead on the spot.”

“You could say she tried that once,” said Parr sarcastically. “Your precious Demetrius interfered. Now shut the hell up and move. I’m tired of being slowed down.”

“Oh, for Gaia’s sake,” Elysia said, rolling her eyes. “What is it with men?” She shoved between them, pleased when they both glared at her instead of each other. At least they wouldn’t end up fighting in the street. She hoped. “Stay here and fight, for all I care. I’m going to find a place to sit down and wait.”

She started walking, and it was only a moment before they caught up to her, both of them silent and angry. She sighed.

“So, what exactly did you do?” she asked Parr as neutrally as possible. She was not going to continue like this for Gaia knew how many nights with the two of them.

“Do?”

“Don’t play coy. Kel keeps making these veiled references, not that I didn’t know a little already, from hearing Oberon and Isaac talk to Demetrius. What did you do, that everyone hates you so much?”

He shrugged.

“Nothing much,” he said, as casually as if he were mentioning the weather. “Killed a couple hundred Rom.”

“Three,” said Kel, glaring. “Murdered three hundred Rom.”

She frowned.

“Okay. Not that I’m not impressed with that number, but surely Demetrius has murdered many more people in his time than three hundred. A lot of them Romani.” She spoke stiffly, thinking of her brother again. “And yet, you all seem to forgive him just fine.”

“That was different,” said Kel, his voice shaking with rage. “Parr killed these Rom when he was still human, before he became a vampire. An entire clan.”

She looked at Parr, her mouth sagging open as Kel’s words hit home.

“Is it true?” she asked finally, disbelieving. He might have been an arrogant, selfish bastard, but she’d thought she sensed a core of honor somewhere beneath all that.

“Of course it’s true,” said Kel. “Ask anyone. He turned them over to Zoltan, let the Raithers ride in for the slaughter, and yet Lord Demetrius still saved his sorry hide, Turned him when he could have left him for dead.”

His dark eyes glittering with malice, Parr cut his gaze first to her, then to Kel.

“Don’t fool yourself, Kel,” he said darkly, “Demetrius didn’t do me any fucking favors when he Turned me.”

“You’re right,” Kel said with loathing. “He should have let you bleed to death at the scene of your betrayal.”

“Yeah, he should have, the bastard.”

“So, it’s true,” Elysia said, studying his profile.

Suddenly, what had happened earlier in his tent made a kind of sense. She could hear the ring of truth in his words, knew he’d have rather died that day than allowed Demetrius to Turn him. Maybe part of him was still trying to die. He glanced at her, met her gaze frankly.

“It is,” he said matter-of-factly. “Happy, dhampir? Now you can hate me just as much as the rest of them.”

“Why?” she asked quietly. “Why did you do it?”

“To save his own worthless skin,” muttered Kel.

But Parr shrugged, and didn’t answer. Frustrated, she reached across the space separating them, and grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop and face her.

“Damn it, answer me!”

He looked at her, his expression bored.

“What do you care?” he asked. “Kel’s answer is as good as any.”

“But is it the truth?” she pressed.

Her heart pounded as she waited, not sure why it mattered so much. She would know, no matter what his answer was. Her shuv’hani abilities would tell her clearly enough if he lied. Parr leaned closer, his gaze unwavering on hers.

“Let go of me, dhampir,” he said succinctly.

“You’re not going to answer me?”

“Release my arm,” he repeated coldly, “or I’ll make you.” She could read the intent in his eyes, knew he would hurt her without a qualm if he had to. She dropped his arm.

“See?” said Kel. “He won’t even defend himself, because he knows the truth.”

Ignoring them both, Parr started forward again. Elysia glanced at Kel, knew he believed every word of what he was saying. Her eyes narrowed. She wasn’t so sure. What better way to lie to a shuv’hani than to avoid entirely answering the question? But why would Parr let people believe he’d sacrificed an entire clan to save himself, if it wasn’t true?

She mulled the question over in her mind until Parr stopped outside a tavern that looked clean enough, and well lit. A sign proclaimed it a place of ‘good eats’ for all manner of patrons, and she grimaced. She could feel more than one vampire inside.

Parr stepped inside without hesitation, and Kel followed him, but she stood for a moment in the street, shivering. She closed her eyes, took a couple of deep breaths. Things were different here. Friend and foe wore different guises than they did back home. The people in this tavern were not her enemy, and they didn’t know she was dhampir. If she was smart, she’d keep it that way.

“Looking for company?”

She opened her eyes, startled, and found herself staring at one of them now, an Old One like Parr and Demetrius, standing close enough that he could reach out and touch her. Dirty, oily hair hung in his eyes, which glowed silver with hunger, and she took a step back before she could stop herself. He was dressed in ragged leathers and a tattered travel cloak, and his clean shaven face was pale, with sunken in, hollow cheeks. He was very hungry, then.

He followed her that step, a stalking movement that had her reaching for the stake beneath her own cloak, strapped to her thigh.

“No,” she said, staring back steadily.

It didn’t frighten her to meet his eyes, even hungry. He wasn’t very old, his power only a dim pulse inside her. It was why she hadn’t felt him approach.

“Are you sure?” He took another step forward, his fangs flashing when he spoke. He couldn’t hide them any longer, hunger overtaking even that small ability.

“Very,” she said. “Not interested. Go find a drink in there.”

She jerked her chin to the tavern, and saw that Parr had come back to the doorway and was blocking it, keeping Kel from coming out to her rescue. He was smiling, the bastard. She glared, and it cost her.

The vampire was on her before she saw him move, his hands closing painfully over her arms and pulling her down to the ground, beneath him. She slapped a hand between them, shoving with all her strength to keep his fangs from sinking into her. Gaia.

“Get off,” she said, still trying for reason, “and I won’t kill you.”

Saliva drooled onto her shoulder. He was too far gone to listen, battling against her strength to try and rip fangs into her throat, his nails digging like claws into her arms.

Fuck this, she thought, and brought a leg up as she shifted her weight, rolling him over until she was on top. His hands raked down her arms, burning as they clawed strips of flesh from them. She gasped, tears of pain stinging her eyes. She had her stake in her right hand, and she stabbed it between his ribs without a second thought, shoving the metal blade down into his heart with the weight of her body behind it. His eyes went wide a second before wood touched the blackened organ, a second before he gasped and shuddered, and went still.

His body crumbled beneath her, flesh and bone disintegrating into a pile of black ash and dust, and tattered clothing. She sat for a moment, shaking as blood dripped sluggishly down her arms. Caught off guard by a hungry fledgling. She was clearly out of practice.

Kel was suddenly beside her, helping her to her feet.

“That bastard wouldn’t let me help you,” he said, shooting another glare at Parr, who was still leaning in the doorway.

“It’s all right,” she said, brushing aside his hands and steadying herself. “It was better that I handle it. I needed the reminder, before we go after Demetrius.”

She turned her head to examine one of her arms, but the deep scratches had already stopped bleeding. Very soon, they’d close and disappear as if they’d never been. She put away her stake, and headed for the tavern, Kel hesitantly following. His eyes lingered on the pile of bone and ash, and then on the healing scratches.

“You really are dhampir,” he said, almost reverently. “It’s been centuries. Demetrius said, but—”

“Shut up,” she hissed at him. “I don’t think the dozen or so vampires inside heard you, yet.”

He fell silent immediately, realization coming over his face. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “It won’t happen again.”

“Enjoy the show?” she asked Parr archly as she stepped past.

He smiled.

“Every second. You might want to tone it down just a tad for the folks inside, though. They’re a rougher crowd than that one.” He nodded toward the street, and she raised an eyebrow.

“So long as everyone understands that I’m not food, we’ll do fine.”

It was something of a test in discomfort, sitting in room populated almost exclusively by vampires and the whores willing to feed them. Elysia gathered that was part of the job description in this time. Sex, blood – whichever and whatever the customer might want. Since she and Kel were the only humans in the room besides the barkeep and the whores, they sat at a table with Parr.

Which meant she spent a very uncomfortable few moments next to him, while he drank from one of the women. At least he didn’t prolong it, seeming to view the feeding as clinically as she viewed her own dinner. But it was hard to ignore the gasps and moans of pleasure coming from the woman while he fed. Or the stares of the other vampires, some of whom were eyeing her a little more speculatively than she liked.

She placed her sword on the table beside her, making a point of looking at each and every pair of eyes turned in their direction.

“Problem?” asked Parr as he sent the woman on her way lighter of blood, but heavier of coin. The look he sent Elysia could have meant anything, but she couldn’t help flushing.

“No,” she said, cursing the fact that she’d ever fed him. “Not at all.”

He picked up her hand, to her shock, and stroked his thumb lightly over it. She tried to tug free, but he merely tightened his hold until it was bruising, and she stopped. Loud enough for the entire bar to hear, he said,

“I told you, darling, I can’t feed from you again so soon. But I know how you hate sharing me with these blood whores.”

He reached an idle hand up to stroke her hair, her neck. Understanding dawned, and she forced a brittle smile, ignoring the way her pulse jumped under his fingers. Slowly, interest in them waned, their fellow customers turning attention back to their own conversations.

“Can we leave yet?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“If you two are ready,” Parr said with a shrug, “I’m full.”

“Excellent.”

It went like that for three more nights as they followed Kel’s internal sense of Demetrius. They had to backtrack twice, and each dawn find a safe haven in which to sleep out the day. It wasn’t too hard. Most towns offered lodging specific to vampires, rooms without windows, down hallways equally protected from any errant shaft of sunlight. They locked and barred the door to be cautious, Kel and Parr sleeping on the floor and leaving Elysia the bed.

Parr, Elysia noticed, grew more unhappy and restless the farther they traveled. She didn’t understand why, when he was feeding regularly, until Kel mentioned they were in Lord Trevon’s lands. Then she remembered the masquerade.

“Your brother’s lands,” she said to Parr.

“Sure, if you want to call him my brother,” he said, his tone making it clear it wasn’t a subject he wanted to talk about. Even Kel had nothing to say to that, though the two men had traded insults back and forth for the entire journey.

“You think Trevon has him?” she asked, keeping her tone neutral.

Parr’s eyes narrowed.

“It would be just like him to capture Demetrius for Zoltan, then try to use that to bargain for more power.” He looked at Kel, who had started looking a bit worse for the wear. Not having access to Demetrius’s blood was taking its toll. “How close are we?”

“Very,” he answered. “It’s only a few hours before sunrise, and I can feel him so strongly, he has to be somewhere here, in this town.”

“I was afraid of that. Then I know where, probably,” said Parr, checking the draw on his sword. “Come on.”

He took them to a palace almost as large as Zoltan’s, shadow-walking right in to the gardens, fed by a priceless, manmade stream and filled with all manner of bushes and grass, and even a rather sad and scraggily stand of trees.

To Elysia, at least. She supposed to the people of this time, they must have seemed grand specimens, but to her they were stunted and small, with their scattering of leaves on branches barely over her own head.

“What now?” she asked, and Parr brought a hand to his lips, gesturing for silence.

“You should be safe enough here, while I go check for Demetrius. Just…don’t wander. Last time I was here, Trevon had the grounds patrolled by Helldogs and Raither demons.” He paused. “Your best bet with them, by the way, is to get one of their own weapons away from them and use it against them. Regular steel doesn’t have much effect. For the Helldogs…cut the little bastards in half.”

“Wait.” She grabbed his arm when he moved to leave. “You’re not going to try anything without us, are you?”

He stared at her, clearly surprised.

“You’re not actually worried about me, are you?” he asked cynically.

“It would be foolish,” she said, annoyed, “to try a rescue on your own and fail, warning them of our presence here.”

He laughed softly.

“I’m anything but foolish, Elysia. Just ask Kel. I’m no hero; I won’t be risking my own hide for Demetrius without help.”

And he vanished, melting away into shadow and mist.

Kel was looking at her oddly when she turned around. She scowled at him, crossing her arms.

“What?”

He shrugged.

“I’ve just never seen anyone concerned over his welfare before,” he said.

“I’m not.”

She unsheathed her sword and started scanning the gardens and grounds for any hint of unnatural movement. Kel shrugged, drawing his own weapon.

“Sure looked like it to me,” he said.

“I just don’t want him blowing this, after all the effort we’ve gone through to get here,” she said tersely.

“Right.”

“I’m serious.”

“Sure.”

Her teeth clenched. “Shut-up, Kel.”

Chapter 12

2006-11-15T20:39:12Z

Sorry for yesterday - I was working on a chapter I can't post yet.

Chapter Twelve

Parr tried to keep the exhaustion from his face. Showing weakness to an enemy was so not what he wanted to do right now, and he had to consider Elysia an enemy, no matter how fucking good she’d felt against him back at Zoltan’s.

So good, in fact, that he was exhausted and in pain. His leg ached where a Helldog had sunk its teeth into him, opening that fucking prison, and his cock was still painfully hard from the distraction he and Elysia had played out. If he’d thought about that for more than thirty seconds, he’d have realized what a fucking bad idea it had been. He’d spent the last seventy years supplanting the need for sex with the need for blood, and it worked, most of the time. When he wasn’t being a complete fucking moron.

Damn it, he just couldn’t win. He needed to feed, soon, and he didn’t think the dhampir was going to offer him a vein. Not when she looked like she wanted nothing more than to stake him.

And that, he thought, is exactly why helping people is always a bad idea. No fucking gratitude.

“Come on,” he said, removing the mask he’d worn to Zoltan’s and tossing it. He started for the mouth of alley, managing not to wince with each step.

Of course, she dug in her heels and crossed her arms, glaring at him with that stubborn set to her jaw.

I thought you said we were waiting,” she said suspiciously, “for Demetrius to find us.”

“We are,” he said, resisting the urge to grab her and drag her along behind him. “But I don’t really like the idea of standing around in an alley for half the night, do you?”

“So, where are we going?”

“I know a place. It’s dry, it’s warm, and we can get something to eat and drink.”

“I’m not hungry.”

He clenched his jaw, reminded himself she was, by her very nature, distrustful of everything he said and did. He rubbed a hand between his eyes. Who knew the undead could still get headaches?

“Well, I am,” he said frankly, “and unless you’re offering…”

“No,” she said severely. “Not in this lifetime, vampire.”

“That’s what I thought. But I need to feed, one way or another.” He paused. “I’m going. Come or stay, as you like.”

He started for the mouth of the alley again. This time, he wasn’t going to stop, no matter what she said. If something bad happened to the Romani girl, and Demetrius got pissed, that was just too fucking bad. Parr had done his job, and gotten her safely away from Zoltan’s. End of obligation.

But after a moment, he heard the rustle of her skirts as she hurried to catch up with him. She took off her own mask, holding it in one hand as they walked.

“I don’t suppose you have a spare knife on you?” she asked after a moment.

“No weapons at the masque, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

They walked in silence for a time, Parr choosing streets with little or no traffic to avoid calling attention. Elysia was a little too well dressed for this section of town, and he was just too damn tired for a fight, if it came to that.

“Your leg is bleeding,” she said a time later, her tone neutral, and Parr cursed inwardly. Was it? Fucking Helldog.

“I told you I needed to feed,” he said irritably. “A little blood, and that’ll heal right up. It’s nothing.”

“Was anyone else injured?”

That’s right, she’d had her brother there, and her betrothed. He shrugged.

“Not that I noticed. I was a little busy, doing my job and getting back to Zoltan’s before the guards decided to check in on us, or you ran out of inspiration.”

He glanced sideways at her as he said it, watched her lips thin as she pressed them together. Good. Now maybe she’d leave him the hell alone.

He went to the brothel Demetrius kept, because he knew the whores would be clean and well kept, and that Demetrius would be sure to find them there. And also, just maybe, because he knew it would bother the Romani girl. Not many others knew about it, but Parr had used the place a time or two before, when in desperate straits and in need of blood. Kind of like now.

Elysia hesitated on the steps, like he’d known she would, perhaps some instinct warning her what sort of establishment this was. When she hesitantly followed him inside, though, she stopped dead.

There was no mistaking what the place was, from the inside. Perfumed ladies in colorful, if revealing gowns lined the bar, sat at tables, chatted with customers, human and vampire alike. They looked up when he walked in, their faces rouged with too much paint, their eyes glittering with a hard avarice only achieved through equally hard living. Cecilia, the madam Demetrius had employed for as long as Parr had known, smiled in welcome.

“Parr,” she said, her voice betraying none of the surprise he knew she was feeling, “how lovely to see you again.”

A vibrant and curvy redhead with eyes the color of aged whiskey, Cecilia had done quite well for herself before her death. Well enough to get out of the life, start her own place, attract the attention of a powerful Lord like Demetrius. She was an Old One herself, now, Turned by Demetrius before Parr’s death. She took her duties, and her girls, very seriously. She killed any customers stupid enough to get too rough or mean, and made no bones about it.

“And…” she cast her gaze behind him, unable to hide her surprise this time, “…you brought a friend?”

That’s right. He didn’t have any friends, and everyone knew it. Of course she was shocked. He turned around, raised an eyebrow.

“Problem?” he asked. After a moment, Elysia shook her head.

“No.”

And then she walked right up to one of the tables and sat down, like she walked into brothels every day of her life. Hell, he had to admire that, just a little. He turned back to Cecilia, who was smiling her crooked smile, looking at the girl with a speculative gleam.

“She’s pretty,” she said, looking at Parr with a question in her eyes.

“Hands off, Cilia,” he told her, shaking his head. “She’s Rom.”

“Ah.” Her full lips formed into a pout as she looked Elysia up and down again, taking in the figure her party dress showed to advantage. Elysia’s hair had come free during their interlude earlier, and cascaded down her back now in a ripple of black, deep red highlights gleaming in the lamplight. She was pretty, and unusual enough to garner attention from the likes of the madam, and her customers.

“Pity,” Cecilia said, and looked at Parr like she really meant it.

He grinned. He’d always kind of liked Cilia, as much as he liked anyone. She didn’t pretend to be something she wasn’t, and she’d always opened her door to him, whatever his differences with Demetrius were.

“Just your usual?” she asked. He nodded, jerked a thumb at Elysia.

“And whatever she wants. She’d probably hungry, thirsty.” He smiled again, wickedly. “So am I.”

“Of course.” She looked up, scanned the girls and the tables. “Honey can serve you.”

She lifted a hand, gestured with a couple of nails painted a burnished copper, and the girl rose gracefully, walked toward them in a cloud of white. A short satin robe hung from her shoulders, open, rippling as she moved, stockings covering her shapely legs, and a corset wrapped around her lovely waist. She wasn’t wearing much else. Honey was young, her golden hair an obvious inspiration for her name. It was twisted back and up, leaving the pale, smooth column of her throat free. Cecilia smiled at him.

“You’ll like her; she tastes as sweet as her name.”

He didn’t doubt it. Of course, at this point, he’d have taken practically anything. But he could always count on Cilia to exceed expectations. Any other time, he might have taken Honey to one of the rooms Cilia provided upstairs. But he was tired, and ravenous, and he always had listened to the capricious devil on his back, more than he did his conscience. He knew it would bother the dhampir, and that was part of why he didn’t wait, but drew Honey to him, here and now.

He took a moment to listen, to scent the blood rushing beneath her creamy skin, to feel it pull at him, before sinking his fangs in. Everything else faded the instant it hit his tongue, and Cilia had been right, as usual. Honey tasted divine. The feeding was a pleasure, for him and the girl, taking the edge off his earlier discomfort while she melted against him, moaning and shuddering in ecstasy.

He took his time, savoring the heavy, full taste of her, taking only as much as he needed, and slowly licked the length of her throat when he was done. He was supporting her fully by then, her body languid and limp in his arms. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure, though the rest of her face had paled, and for a long moment, she didn’t stir.

He heard the scrape of Elysia’s chair as she stood, knew she was tense, waiting, without having to look. That she was wondering right now if he’d taken too much. He hadn’t. Honey was just enjoying the afterglow.

After a moment, she opened limpid blue eyes, smiling slowly.

“Oooooh, that was lovely,” Honey said, reaching up to touch his face. “Thanks,” she said, and straightened.

Parr let her go after she’d gotten her legs back under her. She gave her hair a professional pat, adjusted her robe, and walked back to the table she’d risen from, her gate just a trifle less steady than it had been.

Parr looked over at Elysia and raised one eyebrow, mocking. Glaring at him, she sat again. He saw her eyeing the chair legs speculatively, knew she was contemplating what a good stake they’d make.

“Got your hands full with that one,” Cecilia said, nodding. “Rom, you say?”

“Yep. I’m just watching her for a bit, while Demetrius is busy.” He took two coins out of his money belt, slid them across the bar. “Thanks, Cilia. Excellent, as usual.”

“Wait.” She covered his hand with hers, leaned over the bar. “You’re telling me that you’re actually working with Demetrius? Since when? Did hell freeze over when I wasn’t looking?”

“Not exactly.” He sighed. “Don’t ask, all right? The less I have to actually think about it, the better.”

Lips pursed, she eased back, let go of his hand.

“That’s a story I’d pay to hear, some day,” she said, and reaching over, took a tray from one of her girls. She set it in front of Parr; it held a bowl of some sort of soup and a glass of wine, red. “For your friend,” she said. “On the house, after what you just told me.” Parr smiled.

“Thanks,” he said, and took the tray over to Elysia, set it in front of her while he took a seat. “Compliments of the house,” he told her.

She glanced over at Cecilia, then quickly away.

“Friend of yours?” she asked, just a touch stiffly. Oh, she was trying not to let the feeding bother her, really trying hard. But it did. He leaned back, folded his hands together.

“Not really. But not an enemy, either, and that’s rare enough.”

“How long, do you think, before Demetrius finds us?”

He shrugged.

“I suppose that depends on what, exactly, he was doing. But I’d imagine not long. Once Zoltan finds out Oberon and the others are gone, the party will end pretty quickly.”

Saying nothing else, she picked up her spoon and took a tentative bite. And looked surprised when it tasted good.

“What,” he said, unable to stop himself from needling her, just a little. “You didn’t think whores could cook?”

She shot him a look, but said nothing, which only goaded him further.

“I have to say, I enjoyed my meal.” He smiled, slow and satisfied, and this time she did stop eating, long enough to point her spoon at his chest.

“I may not be able to kill you with this,” she said in a steely voice, “but I know it would hurt if I stabbed it through that black thing you call a heart. Don’t think I won’t.”

Damned if she didn’t make him laugh, this dhampir. It came as something of a surprise, but there it was. It earned him shocked looks from Cecilia and the ladies here who knew him. He leaned in, looking directly into her dark eyes with their interesting flecks of green. He was unable to keep the admiration from his voice.

“Please,” he begged, “ tell me you act exactly like this with Demetrius.”

“Yes,” said a familiar deep voice, very dry, “she does.”

Elsyia swore, dropping her spoon and standing up so fast her chair fell over. Parr just sighed, and looked up. Demetrius was paler than he should have been, looking about as tired as Parr had felt before feeding. He could smell fresh blood, wondered if it was his, or someone else’s.

“Let’s go,” said Demetrius, turning.

“Don’t you need to feed?” asked Parr, knowing very well he did. He couldn’t look so worn out and not need to.

“Later,” said Demetrius shortly. “Right now, I want us all safely tucked away for the day.” He nodded to Cecilia and extended his hand to Elysia, who took it after a moment’s hesitation. He looked at Parr.

“Coming or staying?”

I guess this is it, going into the lion’s den, thought Parr, and stood. He hadn’t felt this much foreboding walking into Zoltan’s palace. It had been a long time since he’d stepped foot inside a Romani camp. Any camp, much less Demetrius’. But he steeled himself and gave a humorless smile.

“Why the hell not?” he said, and touched the bastard's hand.

An FYI Bulletin about this journal...

2006-11-08T20:53:45Z

All right. Shortly, this journal is going to go friends only. What that means is, you will only be able to read the entries if you, too, have a livejournal account (free) and have this journal friended. It doesn't take very long to create one, and if you're one of my less tech savvy RL friends and you want me to create one for you so you can read these entries, that is doable, too.

If you already have an LJ, you know what to do. If you don't, go here and create one, then friend me. I will friend you back so that you can continue to read chapters.

I've just decided I don't want the entire book, as it's clear I'm going to be posting all of it, available in the vast spaces of the internet and all that encompasses, so a little bit of security is in order.

Saturday morning update...

2004-11-06T19:11:24Z

Whew. 10,954 words. Not bad for the first week. I'm sure I'll write more today, but after last night and this morning (I've been at the keyboard since 7:30, and it's now 11:00am.), my eyes are fried. Besides, I just finished Ch. 3, and it ended in a different spot than I thought it would according to my outline. So now I have to restructure Ch. 4 in my head.

See, I knew this would happen. I still have at least 2000 words this weekend if I'm going to stay on schedule, and we have company coming all day tomorrow, and I have to clean house sometime today in preparation. Ok, no problem. 2000 words is about...3 hours. I can carve out that much time, surely.

charityz @ 2004-11-02T19:06:00

2004-11-03T03:21:57Z

3,833 words between today and yesterday. Not bad. I may write more later tonight, since my personal goal is technically 2,000 words per day.

So, a snippet:

Niklos stumbled, the smooth marble floors beneath his feet unaccountably difficult to walk. He braced a hand against one of the dark stone walls, and tried to regain his balance by simply not moving for a few moments. His head throbbed and his stomach heaved, but he clenched his teeth and waited it out. He felt as if he’d imbibed an overindulgence of Fey-wine, a mistake he’d not made in countless centuries.

He didn’t hear the other Sidhe’s approach, but he felt the presence as a tremble up his spine, a wave of heat that flashed a warning he responded to without thinking. His free hand flung back, hurling power before it.

"Skata!"

The hissed word was almost lost amid the crash of metal and flesh on stone. It was an ancient Greek curse, and popular among the younger Sidhe of late. Niklos knew the voice. He took his time straightening, turning, a cruel half smile on his lips.

The warrior lay pinned against the far wall, his feet dangling some inches above the marble floor, his indigo eyes glaring at Niklos through a fall of onyx hair. He wore armor that matched his eyes, armor once worn by another, long dead and far more worthy. Seeing it on this upstart stirred something within Niklos. It felt like anger, but it had been so long since emotion of any kind had touched him, he couldn’t be sure.

"Thanael," he said coolly, and took a cautious step away from the wall. It wouldn’t do to appear any weaker than he already had. His gaze flicked to the knife still held in the young Sidhe’s right fist, took in the smear of something dark on the blade. Not surprising; most UnSeelie poisoned their weapons. "Waiting to greet me upon my return?" he asked with a lifted brow.

Thanael didn’t answer, but continued to struggle against the spell Niklos employed to hold him in place. Not that it would avail him anything. The younger generation of warriors was sadly lacking, both in power and basic respect. His stomach finally settling, Niklos crossed the space between them, until he was close enough to reach out and trace the familiar curves of the purple armor, to see the hate in the young warrior’s eyes. He wondered at that. Such a human emotion, hate.

He took a step back, released the spell. Thanael fell in a graceless heap at his feet, gasping. The spell was not meant to merely hold one in place, but constricted a body until bone crumbled and organs collapsed. Niklos could easily have killed him, but the thought gave him no pleasure. Peace between the Courts was always tenuous, at best, and the UnSeelie killed one another with alarming regularity as it was.

Instead, he looked down at the warrior coldly. "You are not worthy of that armor," he said contemptuously. "Thanatos wore it for two millennia; he wore it during the Sundering; he died wearing it, and should have been buried in it. Instead, it falls to a whelp like you, a disgrace who can’t even manage a single assassination with any skill or style."

Unrepentant, Thanael stood. He glared, knife still in his hand, and shifted his stance subtly. Niklos had him by the throat before he’d completed the move, shoved him back against the same wall. There was a sharp crack of bone, and the knife fell to the floor. He bared his teeth, anger surging through him again.

"Do you want to die, boy?" he hissed through his teeth, and put more pressure on the wrist he’d just broken. "Shall I tear your heart out of your chest here and now, so that armor can finally be put to rest where it belongs, with the dead?"
Fear and pain glimmered in those indigo eyes, giving a new depth to the hate. And still Thanael managed to sneer.

"I’m not afraid of you, kavlaka. I am Guardian to the Queen; kill me, and she will kill you."

Niklos laughed. It was not a pleasant sound, and if any Fey lurked in the dark of the palace corridors, they scurried farther into the shadows when they heard it.

"Do you think so?" He sighed. "You really are a fool. How disappointed Thanatos would be."

The anger gone as quickly as it had come, Niklos released him for the second time, stepping carefully back.

"Go, boy. Run to the Queen before I change my mind and kill you anyway." He paused. "A word of advice: don’t tell her what you were so foolish as to try this night. She would not thank-you for succeeding, nor for the attempt."

Thanael hesitated. "You knew I was there," he said finally, grudgingly, "when you came through the portal, didn’t you? You were shamming weakness to draw me in."

If the boy wanted to believe that, well, Niklos would not disabuse him of the notion. Though he could see no advantage at all in shamming weakness here, ever. To do so invited death.

"I knew you were there," he acknowledged neutrally.

Then he turned, his posture casually dismissive, and walked away. Thanael did not dare to follow.

charityz @ 2004-10-31T15:05:00

2004-10-31T23:11:05Z

I hope I haven't missed any of my f-list who are participating in NaNoWriMo. Please let me know if you happen to read this, and I don't have you listed as a friend. :)

So how is everyone feeling? When is everyone planning to start? Tonight at 12:01, or tomorrow? I'm going to start tonight, I think, if answering the door for trick-or-treaters doesn't exhaust me earlier.

If you surf the NaNo forums, you probably already know about this, but I wanted to post it here, just in case. Someone made this incredible spreadsheet that tracks your progress -- total words done, needed to finish, projected finish date, etc, etc. Truly, it looks like an awesome tool, so here's the link to d/l it: NaNo Report Card

I only wish I had a version that wasn't limited to the month of November, to keep track of all my WIPs throughout the year. Sadly, my knowledge of Excel is rudimentary at best.

Well, good luck to everyone. Feel free to drop me a comment if you need to chat, vent, soundboard ideas, etc. :)

Let the countdown begin...

2004-10-20T22:14:11Z

A week and a half before NaNoWriMo is set to begin. I really need to get busy outlining, or I'll be frelled come November 1st. I mean, I have the basic story in my head, but I better have a clear path to follow. Note: "clear" does not mean "detailed". I learned a looooong time ago that I don't work well from detailed outlining. I tend to diverge about two pages in and throw the whole thing out the window. But if I have at least a road to follow, one which allows for divurgences now and again, I'm good.

For example:

Starlight and Shadow

Chapter 1 -
-- Introduce main protagonist(s)
1. Dori (Isadora Ambrose)
2. Thomas Ambrose (her father)
3. Niklos Morieth (Sidhe)

-- Introduce conflict(s)
1. Sidhe vs. humanity
2. Sidhe vs. Dori + allies
3. Tension between Dori and her father

Chapter 2 -
-- Expand on conflicts/characters
1. Dori & her father

Chapter 3 -
-- Introduce the Sidhe
1. POV shift to Niklos
2. Main antagonist introduced
-- Queen Damaris Ellethian
(black hair, amber eyes, magical tattoo)
3. Niklos feared by most of the Court. Great Sundering.
4. Niklos' sister, Sameria - only Sidhe he trusts.
(golden hair, gold flecked green eyes, sensual)

Chapter 4 -
-- Praetorium/Dori's Investigation
1. Dori investigates Colin's murder.
2. How does the Praetorium handle mortal police?
3. Tension increased between Dori/Thomas.
4. New assignment designed to keep Dori busy.
5. Brennan & Helena won't leave Dori alone.
6. Helena's visions.

Chapter 5 -
-- Faerie & the mortal world interact
1. Dori is forced to complete her new assignment.
2. Brennan accompanies her.
3. The Queen's trackers find Dori.
- they've never been able to before
- she's been marked somehow, leading the trackers to her

And that's it so far. I make little notes of things I know I want to do, but might forget. I sometimes make notes on character descriptions, so I don't have to scroll through pages of manuscript to find so-and-so's eye color. However, since I don't think my chapters are going to be ten thousand words apiece, I have much more outlining to do before November. I really want the whole thing outlined. That way I'll know how much more I'll have to do come December/January.

For those who don't know...

2004-10-15T01:11:02Z

NaNoWriMo Project:

Genre: Contemporary Fantasy

Title (working): Starlight & Shadow. (It has been suggested to me that Shadow & Starlight has a more accepted phonetic sound. Any opinions?)

Character(s): Isadora 'Dori' Ambrose, the main character, a young woman who discovers she's much more than she ever knew. Her father, Thomas Ambrose, her best friend Helena, a host of other humans too numerous to name. Then the villains of the piece, the Sidhe: Queen Damaris Ellethian, of the UnSeelie Court, the many many Sidhe loyal to her, and those who are not, including Niklos Morieth, a Sidhe warrior who will play a large part in the story.

Setting: Our world, with a few little changes, such as the addition of the world of Faerie lying very close to our own.

Basic Story: Dori is the heir to the throne(s) of both Courts of Faerie, through a forbidden bloodline. (Dori's parents were never supposed to have been together -- they broke all sorts of laws when they had Dori.) The Great Sundering of the Court millenia ago have weakened the magic of the Sidhe to a dangerous point, but the proud members of both courts refuse to recognize that they were stronger together than they have ever been apart. (Both courts being the 'evil' UnSeelie, and the 'good' Seelie. But the terms good and evil in my world are a little more gray than one might think.) So, the book begins with Dori's existence being discovered by Faerie. Her father had whisked her away to the human world when she was born, and has hidden her heritage from her and everyone else ever since. As you can imagine, the book revolves around political intrigues, Dori coming into her own, magic, mayhem, murder, and love. Should be great fun to write. :)

charityz @ 2004-10-14T12:02:00

2004-10-14T19:02:01Z

Ok, so here it is, my writing journal for the upcoming NaNoWriMo. I'll be posting wordcounts, outlining tips/ideas(until November, when the writing starts), frustrations, possibly links to helpful writerly pages, and whatever else I think might be helpful either for me or other participants.

charityz

*Note to beta readers*

Reorganizing!

Chapter 33

Chapter 20

Chapter 12

An FYI Bulletin about this journal...

Saturday morning update...

charityz @ 2004-11-02T19:06:00

charityz @ 2004-10-31T15:05:00

Let the countdown begin...

For those who don't know...

charityz @ 2004-10-14T12:02:00

Note to beta readers