The Mary Sue Virus: Beyond Death
May. 25th, 2018 09:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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marysuevirusTitle: The Mary Sue Virus: Beyond Death
Chapter Fifty Nine: A Shaky Foundation
Fandom: Anita Blake universe
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: graphic sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of LKH. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. the Sues are the sole property of their originators, Ginevra, Dazzledfirestar, Nanaea, SilverFoxChan and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.
Author's Notes: aaaaaand we're back to my brain throwing in shit that doesn't need to be thrown in. ugh. so, yeah. this happened. don't ask where it came from. you guess is as good as mine
The Mary Sue Virus: Beyond Death - Index Link
"Ladies and gentlemen. Old friends and new. Welcome to the annual MarSin Foundation's gala event!" A man's voice echoed throughout the room, drawing Isis' attention toward a raised platform on one end of the banquet hall. A man who looked to be in his early thirties stood at a microphone, staring out over the people crowding the place. His dark hair was combed back in a fashionable style, cut just so by a stylist who no doubt charged an arm and a leg for that look, and his tux looked rich even across the distance.
Then again, so did the clothing of pretty much everyone in the room. Isis let her gaze slide from one small cluster of people to the next, taking in the richness of some gown or the smooth perfection of a tuxedo jacket. Every man present was in a black tux, which only made sense given it was a black tie event. Most of them had stuck with black vests, but a few had decided to add a splash of flair by wearing a colored vest. Some of those men wore vests that complimented their companion's gown. It was that way with Damian's vest. It was a rich, luxurious gold satin embroidered with tiny lions in red thread that perfectly matched his hair. Hair that shone luminously against the midnight of his coat.
The same gold satin had been used to craft her dress. It reminded her of something one of Hollywood's golden era leading ladies would have worn. A pair of straps looped around the back of her neck and held the bodice up. Said bodice had a moderate plunge to it, offering a tantalizing view of her cleavage to any who desired to look. A strap ran across her back at the midway point, keeping the bodice tight against her torso and allowing the back to plunge down to the top of her ass. The skirt laid heavy against the hips before falling in a slightly belled shape to the floor. There was just enough flair that the skirt moved and flowed when she walked, but not enough to see it fluttering all over the place. A pair of gold leather heels added just a few inches of height. A golden collar fit snug against her throat, sporting a red stone that flashed and caught the light every time she moved. A single cuff with the same stone rested on her right wrist, while more of the stones dangled from her ears on delicate red chains. Her hair had been left long, curling softly around her face and shoulders to rest gently against her back. A lace shawl in soft gold draped from her arms.
"What is the MarSin Foundation?" Isis asked Damian, her eyes never slipping away from the man at the microphone.
"It is a charity group that does what it can to help aide the victims of violent attacks against lycanthropes," he told her quietly. One hand motioned toward the man on the dais. "That is Aaron Singleton. With the recent death of his father, he has taken over the running of both the foundation and the Singleton family business. Some years ago, his sister was killed for being an outspoken member of the lycanthropic community."
"Wow? Really?" she asked, turning wide eyes his way. Damian nodded in reply. "How come I've never heard of the MarSin Foundation before? Is it a secret?"
"No. But they do not advertise themselves. Too many people believe that lycanthropes do not deserve charity." His tone told her exactly what he thought about that idea. She had to agree. Too many people thought that vampires were the shit and that the lycanthropes could eat shit. It was an unfair assessment, as most people didn't set out to become lycanthropes. She was fairly certain there were people who actively sought out becoming a vampire. Humans and their way of thinking was so fucked up.
"We are so lucky to have with us tonight several members of our lycanthropic community, as well as the head of the Coalition for Better Understanding Between Human and Lycanthrope Communities." One of the man's hands waved in the general direction she knew Micah to be. Isis was fairly certain that he wouldn't like being exposed by their host, but she guessed that it was the price he had to pay for being at the gala. Then the man's hand went in another direction, drawing all eyes that way. "We are also fortunate that the Master of the City has joined us this evening."
A murmur went up among the crowd as they focused on the spot where Jean Claude stood. He seemed untouched by the attention, but the stiff way Aedan stood beside him and the generic expression she wore suggested Aedan was not as pleased by it. Soon enough, Aaron Singleton was speaking again, drawing all eyes back to where he stood on the dais. "As you all know, the MarSin Foundation is near and dear to my heart. We wouldn't be here if not for my sister, Marla, who was the inspiration for this charity event. I hope that you'll all give as generously this year as you did last year. I know Marla, were she here, would be pleased to see just how much you've given to help victims of violence and she'd encourage you to continue giving so that we could eradicate the need for foundations like this one."
The room fell to silence as everyone present no doubt thought of Singleton's sister or someone else they knew who had been viciously attacked. Possibly left for dead.
"As with years past, you are more than welcome to make a donation of cash or check. The table on the far wall is being manned by some of the people who work for the foundation and they'll gladly take your money. This year, we're doing something a little different. We've put together an auction. I'm going to let the items up for bed remain a surprise for now, but be assured that they're all wonderful and well worth your time and your money. So, please. Enjoy the gala. Eat. Drink. Dance. Be merry. And please give."
There was a soft click that said the audio to the microphone had been shut off. Aaron Singleton stepped away from the mic stand and moved down off the dais and made his way over to where Aedan and Jean Claude stood. His face was animated as he took up conversation with the two of them, though it almost looked as if Aedan was speaking more than Jean Claude.
Soft music filled the room, taking up the empty space that lived between all the different conversations. A string quartet was located in a corner, providing some classical pieces for those who weren't as interested in conversation. Another wall was lined with tables that were laden with food and drink. Damian made a motion to them with one hand. "Let us go find you something to eat and drink while we wait for the evening to kick into gear."
Isis stared at him for a moment. "Have you been to one of these before?" she asked him as he hooked his arm with hers. He propelled her into motion before he bothered to answer her.
"I have not. I was never high enough on anyone's list to ever be invited to something like this. But I have known many who have gone to events such as these and their stories suggest that fundraisers tend to follow the same patterns. There is food to be eaten. Beverages to be drunk. Talk to be made. Money to be solicited. And people to be seen."
"What? Like... Some kind of social event for rich people?"
Her question saw him laughing softly. Just enough to make her shiver at the sound of it. "Just so, Isis. This is a socially acceptable event for rich people. Attending a dance club or a strip club is considered beneath the type of people who come to events like this. So their rich friends hold galas. And balls. So that they may all come out and be seen and socialize in acceptable places and situations."
"Wow. That's kind of fucked up," she replied, letting her gaze slide around the room. How sad was it that these people didn't just... go hang out with their friends when the desire took them? Who wanted to have to get dressed up and play high and mighty in order to spend time with their bestie? Certainly not her.
"It is the way of people with money. And has been for a very long time."
"I think I prefer our kinds of social events to ones like this," she told him.
"I think I do, too." She caught the warmth in his voice and had to tell herself that she couldn't strip him naked and do him there. It wasn't refined enough for these people. And she didn't want to share Damian's beauty with anyone else. So she remained silent and allowed him to escort her to the refreshments table. Isis had to wonder about that for a moment, because she'd have thought the charity would have raised money by selling plates to the guests. But other people had lined up at the tables and were filling plates with delicious looking finger foods. Her tummy took the opportunity to remind her that it liked food.
Isis gave a mental shrug and decided to go with the flow. What did she know about gala events anyway? This was the first time she'd ever been to one. So she said nothing and allowed Damian to pull her into line with him, where they waited together in silence for the opportunity to pick tasty tidbits for her to nibble on.
~*~*~*~*~
Asher's gaze strayed to Janika, who stood at his side, listening to the young man go on and on about the Hanging Gardens. She had a pleasant expression on her face, but he could tell she was already tired of the conversation. In fact, he was willing to guess she was tired of the gala. She was merely too polite to say as much. "I don't know where you chef comes up with his recipes, but he's brilliant and you simply must let me meet him," the man was saying.
"If I allowed every patron who thought my chef was brilliant to meet him, he would never get any meals crafted. And then I would not run a very profitable business. Would I?" Asher replied politely. He didn't need to dig into the man's mind to know he, like so many others, wanted to steal his chef away from him.
His answer didn't seem to deter the young man. And he was young. Asher put his age in the very early twenties. He was new to money, but money wasn't new to him. He'd grown up with it and, as such, had grown up never having anyone tell him no. For the moment, the young man was confident he could change Asher's mind about his chef. But the insolent pup would learn soon enough that he was going to end up as disappointed as people with less money than him. And that was when things would get ugly.
"I'm willing to pay to meet him," the kid said. His eyes were hard with his determination. Intent. Which told Asher everything he needed to know about the young man. He was trouble, just waiting for a reason to happen.
"And I would have to respectfully decline such an offer on my chef's behalf." Asher made sure to put a touch of strength into his words. The kid completely missed that strength. Or he ignored it.
"Afraid you'd lose your precious chef to someone who can offer him more?"
"No. Afraid my chef would lose his temper and put his many skills to work," Asher replied, tone such that one had to try and figure out if he was serious or not. He saw Janika trying to stifle her humor at his comment and knew she'd figured it out.
"Perhaps you can talk some sense into him," the kid said before turning to Asher's partner. He watched as the young mortal let his gaze sweep over Janika in an assessing, consuming look that would tell the kid everything he felt he needed to know about her. And he knew what the kid would see. A petite young woman, who looked as if she could be easily trod upon, easily influenced, clad in a heavy satin gown that clung to every glorious curve of her body.
The dress was cream colored, with halter style straps that climbed up over her shoulder and around her neck. There was a deep plunge between her breasts, giving people a tantalizing view of the pale skin beneath the satin. The bodice was structured so that it fit snug against the fullness of her breasts, the narrowness of her waist, the flare of her hips. The back dipped low while a single slit climbed up her leg so that she flashed more of her delectable skin when she walked. Gold thread adorned the bodice, ensuring that everyone's attention was drawn to that deep plunge, racing along the edges in a series of curlicue designs that could have been anything. A pale gold shawl acted as cover for her shoulders and gold satin heels added three or four inches to her height.
Her long red hair had been swept up into an intricate design of braids that were woven into a coronet that crowned her head. Small cream colored pearls and winking golden gems had been tucked into the crown. More gold flashed at her ears and her wrists, while a delicate strand of pearls and more gold gems circled her throat. Subtle make up that left her skin looking natural only served to enhance her beauty, save the soft pink of her lips and the black kohl lining her eyes. The black mascara that lengthened and darkened her eyelashes.
She was a vision of stunning beauty. And Asher watched as their unwanted companion looked right past that to see a young woman he thought he could push around and influence with his prestige. It was almost enough to bring a smile to Asher's lips. The young man was about to be so disappointed and Asher couldn't bring himself to stop the boy before he made a fool of himself.
"Me?" Janika asked, making it sound like she wasn't at all sure why the man would be going to her. No doubt she wanted to hear his reasoning behind his actions. Asher admitted he was curious, as well.
"Of course. A woman of your beauty and talents can surely use them to change his mind on this. He's being incredibly arrogant about not sharing his chef." While Janika's expression didn't change, Asher felt her temper spike at the implication that she would ever do something like what the man had just suggested.
"I'm sorry. I believe you must have mistaken me for someone else," she replied, tone going cold. The kid blinked at her, not quite understanding what had brought about her sudden dislike.
"Excuse me?"
"Well, its obvious you think that I'm some sort of whore and that I would use sex to influence anything anyone did. Do you think Asher picked me up off the streets for tonight? Do you think this is some kind of working girl's date?" she asked him, not quite letting her temper leak out. The boy continued to stare, still not getting where he'd made his mistake. "As it happens, Asher and I are in a committed relationship. And even if I thought I could use sex to get what I wanted with him, that isn't who I am. I'd simply ask him. And if he said no, I'd leave it at that. But its obvious that some spoiled little rich kid doesn't get that people are allowed to say no to him."
"It isn't like that!" their companion insisted. Her words had brought his temper to life.
"Isn't it? Asher's just told you no. So instead of accepting it gracefully, as a person should do, you turn to the woman on his arm and ask her to use her feminine wiles to get you what you want. That sounds a great deal like not taking no for an answer to me. Its even worse because you automatically assume that the woman you're speaking to is some kind of prostitute for sale to the highest bidder. Let me assure you, sir, that even if I were a prostitute, as you so mistakenly came to believe, I would never lower myself to your level of arrogance and stupidity. So I suggest you take your answer and walk away before I actually lose my temper."
The young man said nothing, only stared at Janika with wide eyes. If his mouth gaped a little, Asher said nothing. It was painfully obvious no one had ever put him in his place before. Or, if they had, he'd been able to do something to make their life hell. Asher could well imagine there was a maid or two in his history that had lost her job because she'd dared speak her mind to him. After several long moments, the young man's mouth closed and a look of disbelief settled onto his face. He fought down the urge to say something unkind to her. Finally, he turned and stalked off, leaving the two of them alone.
"You were amazing, mon ange," Asher told her, a touch of amusement coloring his voice. She smiled up at him, ran her hand over the heavy satin of his vest. It matched her gown, rich cream material shot through with gold thread. She let her hand linger against his chest a moment, then allowed it to fall away and gave him a tight smile.
"He was an asshole. He deserved more than that. But we're here for a good cause and I didn't want to turn him off helping. It just sucks that he wouldn't take no for an answer. I don't think you were being unreasonable. I've met your chef and he's a perfectly lovely person. Who just so happens to value his privacy. And you're kind enough to accept that."
"Some people do not believe that allowing someone their privacy extends to them," he said quietly, gesturing after the retreating figure of their unwanted conversationalist. "Some people feel they are above all that."
"Well, some people are fuckwads," she replied quietly. Her voice didn't carry to the people around them, but there was no disguising the disgust in it.
"It is the nature of humanity to think those who have more are inherently better than those who do not," he reminded her.
"Then I guess its a good thing I'm with you and not someone like him," she responded. Asher smiled at her and pulled her close for a quick kiss.
"It is very good, indeed. Good for me. Because you are amazing," he told her softly.
"You're damn right I am," she returned with a grin. "And you'd better not forget it, mister."
"If I do?" he asked, curious how she'd answer.
Janika's entire expression changed, eyes darkening with emotions that didn't really belong at a gala ball such as this. She inched a little closer to him so that she could press the softness of her breasts to his chest. Her voice, when it came, was husky with need and promise. "Then I guess I'll have to remind you."
~*~*~*~*~
They'd retired to their table because Rhia's feet were killing her. She wasn't used to heels and even though her heels weren't very high, it was still a trial to get through the night with them on. Nathaniel sat in the chair next to hers, his hand resting on her knee under the table as they stared at the man up on the dais. She knew his name was Aaron Singleton and he was representing the foundation that was throwing the gala event they were presently at. But that was about it. A waiter drifted past the table and settled a glass of ice water before both of them. Rhia offered him a smile in thanks, then picked up the glass and sipped at it. "Thank you for coming with me tonight, Nathaniel. This would have been so boring without you here," Rhia said quietly. Her companion turned to give her a smile.
"There's no where I'd rather be, Rhia," Nathaniel replied. She basked in the honest sincerity in his voice.
"Still. It was very last minute and I was afraid I'd be stuck here without a buffer against all of these people." There were far too many people attending the gala. Rhia could handle being around larger groups. But this was far too large for her liking. And there really wasn't anywhere she could go to get away from all the milling bodies. And, oddly, she meant what she said. Nathaniel was somehow the perfect foil for all of the discordant energy on the air. She'd come to find his personal energy, the nearly biting energy of his lycanthropy, a soothing thing. Having him close by kept her sane amidst this whole mess.
"Well, we know that Richard wasn't going to come to something like this. That would out his position as the Ulfric and he wasn't going to do that," Nathaniel said softly, words meant only for her. His gaze slid over her, a look that was both warm and possessive. It sent chills sliding down her spine. "You were an obvious choice. As the pack's vargamor, you have some authority to speak for Richard."
"I do not want that authority," she shook her head.
"You shouldn't need to do too much speaking on his behalf tonight. But if the need arises, you have more position within the pack than Jason does," Nathaniel smiled, his head tipping in the direction of the wolf. Rhia turned to look and found that he looked to be having some lively debate with Minette about something. She was laughing and, even across the distance, Rhia recognized the wicked gleam in Jason's eyes. He was teasing Minette, probably with dirty thoughts. And Minette was enjoying every second of it.
"I guess," Rhia agreed. "Jason is still better at pack politics than I am."
"Which is why you're both here. You have authority. He has knowledge. The two of you are more than capable of speaking for the pack, if someone has questions. Stop worrying about it so much. The night is half over and no one has come looking for information about the pack yet. Its highly likely they won't. So you're just here to represent."
She smiled at Nathaniel and settled her hand over his. His skin was so very warm and that touch allowed his energy to dance against her flesh. She savored it. "I know. But this isn't my type of thing. I don't like crowds. I don't like people staring at me. I'm not comfortable among all these rich, powerful people."
"People are staring at you because you're beautiful, Rhia," Nathaniel assured her. She wasn't so sure about that, despite the beautiful dress she was wearing. It was made of a deep, dark purple silk with loose fitting sleeves that hit her mid arm and a deep vee plunge between her breasts that stopped at the bottom edge of her bust. The skirt was straight, an a-line, and hung to the floor, and it moved gently around her legs when she walked. The silk had been shot through with metallic silver and lighter threads of lavender so that the dress had depth and motion even when she wasn't walking. Her modest heels were black, her jewelry silver with purple stones, and her hair had been twisted up into an intricate knot at the back of her head.
Nathaniel wore a tux, as did every man in the place. His vest was perfectly matched to hers, the same dark purple silk teased with hints of lavender and silver. She didn't have to actually look to know the lighter shade of purple matched his eyes. She'd noticed, as they'd conversed with their friends, that the dresses where matched to the vests. Marking couples in not so subtle ways. Rhia had to wonder if Jean Claude had been involved in that decision.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, its time for the most enjoyable part of our evening." Aaron Singleton's voice pulled her away from her thoughts. She turned to find him back on the dais, before the microphone. Several clusters of attendees were already moving forward. Rhia shared a look with Nathaniel, who only shrugged, then turned her attention back to the dais. "Its time to start our auction."
A woman in a long sleeved black dress moved up to stand to the side of their host, next to a table that had been set up on the dais. It no doubt held the items for auction, though Rhia couldn't say what those items might be. She couldn't see anything, really. Considering she wasn't there to bid on anything, that she was there to be a stand in for Richard, she tuned Singleton out and gave her attention back to Nathaniel. "How much longer are we expected to put on a show here?" she asked, keeping her voice low so that no one around them picked up on her desire to be as far from this place as possible.
Not that she thought the charity was a bad one. She didn't. She thought it was a very good charity and she hoped that Singleton's foundation met their fundraising goal and then some. Too many people were left to fend for themselves after catching the lycanthropy virus. Too many children were shunned and put out by their families for something that was well beyond their control. Not everyone got lucky enough to find a patient, understanding, caring, nurturing alpha to help them through the difficult first days. And not everyone was strong enough to fight off ignorant, racist assholes who thought that all lycanthropes were the same.
It was more that she didn't belong here any more than Nathaniel did. Or any of the others, really. She suspected that Singleton had invited everyone in order to put on a show for his more mundane attendees. What better way to garner funds than to have real, living, breathing lycanthropes on show? And, while they're at it, why not drag a few vampires into the thing? She was sure Singleton saw that as a sure fire way to get the funds he wanted. Conversations had with the others over the course of the evening suggested that no one really wanted to be there. That they were uncomfortable being on display as they were. And they were definitely on display. Rhia had heard people whispering about how normal and nice the lycanthropes looked.
"We're here until Jean Claude decides its time to leave," he informed her.
"Great." She didn't bother to try and keep the sarcasm from her voice. Nathaniel sent a smile her way. He reached for a hand, lifted it up, and pressed a kiss to her palm.
"I'll make this whole night up to you when we get home," he told her quietly. There was a very definite promise in his voice that was absolutely adult in nature. Rhia smiled.
"Oh, yeah? Just how are you going to do that?"
His smile widened, took on a more seductive quality. She watched as he leaned forward so that he could put his lips right next to her ear. When he started telling her, in great detail, exactly what he'd do to make the evening up to her, heat rushed through her veins and pooled low in her belly. Rhia had to hold herself very still in order to keep herself from shuddering in front of everyone.
And she had the very uncharitable thought that she really hoped something happened that convinced Jean Claude they should all leave early. Because she really wanted to get to the enjoyable portion of the evening.
~*~*~*~*~
"Next up for auction is something I'm sure the ladies in the audience will not want to miss." Singleton's voice was filled with smug satisfaction, as if he was sure the next item to go up on the block would earn him big money. Jason frowned and took a sip of his water. This entire evening was a waste of time. He'd spent much of the night being ogled by one person or another. And while he got ogled at Guilty Pleasures, he also got paid for getting ogled. So there was a little give and take on both sides there. Here, it was a lot of take and absolutely no give. He was lucky he knew how to avoid busy hands with a smile and a few polite words. If he didn't, he'd have no doubt been kicked out of the place five minutes after walking through the door.
The foundation's version of Vanna White lifted an envelope and held it up for all to see. Despite the distance, Jason could tell that the writing on the envelope belonged to Jean Claude. It left him with a very bad feeling. "The Master of the City has graciously offered up a night of drinks and fantasy. The highest bidder on this item gets an entire evening at Guilty Pleasures for themselves and up to fifty of their closest friends. For those of you not in the know, Guilty Pleasures is the place to go if you want to see lycanthropes and vampires strip down to next to nothing!"
Jason rolled his eyes and hoped like hell that he wasn't working the night the winner of this particular auction collected their prize. As if sensing his discontent, Minette reached over and squeezed his hand. "Don't worry. We'll talk to Jean Claude and see if we can't work something out."
"We're going to open the bidding at fifty thousand dollars. Do I hear fifty?" Singleton asked. Someone met the bid and Jason tuned it out. He absolutely did not understand why they'd all had to attend this weird cross between fundraiser and zoo. Because that's what it felt like to him. Like he was on display for all the norms. He and Micah and Minette and the rest of the shifters here. The vampires who weren't Jean Claude. The one glance he'd gotten of Aedan had showed a carefully crafted mask to keep people from seeing the absolute boredom that rode her. Give him a night in, watching movies or playing a board game, over this kind of thing any day.
"This is..." Micah sighed and shook his head.
"Yeah. That about covers it," Jason agreed.
"I don't know. It isn't entirely bad. The cause is good," Minette replied. She didn't sound like she really believed the words coming out of her mouth, though, which told Jason even she was having a hard time finding enthusiasm for all the fake feel-good vibes being tossed around.
"We have seventy five thousand!" Singleton's voice invaded his consciousness for a moment and Jason had to work to force it out again. He was willing to admit that he thought that Singleton was genuinely sincere about his desire to help the community. But to most of the attendees, this was a way to make themselves look and feel good amongst their peers. As if it was shockingly brave of them to open their overstuffed wallets and hand out a few bucks to the less fortunate souls. Especially if those souls happened to grow fur once a month. He knew exactly how people viewed lycanthropes. And he had no doubts that a good portion of the people here were trying to score brownie points by helping the poor, unfortunate lycanthropes.
"Maybe we can just get up and walk out. Maybe we won't get in trouble if we just go," Jason said softly, though he knew the others could tell he didn't believe it. He was fairly certain they were to remain where they were until Jean Claude gave the go ahead to leave. Which was bogus, because it was likely the vampire was as bored as everyone else was.
"This can't go on for much longer," Minette replied. "I wish I could get a headache. That might convince Jean Claude to call it an evening."
"I'm honestly surprised Aedan hasn't called it quits yet," Micah said. As a group, their eyes all cut to the table where Aedan and Jean Claude sat. Even across the distance, it was plain to see she was bored practically to tears by the whole thing. Despite only knowing her for a few short months, Jason could see she was wearing her pleasant mask to keep people from seeing just how painfully bored she was.
"One hundred fifteen thousand!" a voice from the audience cried. Jason rolled his eyes.
"Just remember that the money goes to a good cause," Minette reminded him. Jason nodded, absently twirling his water glass against the table cloth. He watched the water slosh and swirl inside its crystal confines.
"We hope." Micah was the one who gave voice to the doubt. Both Jason and Minette looked at him. Micah shrugged. "Someone had to say it. Let's look at it this way. This was a good excuse to see Minette get all dressed up."
Jason smiled. "Very true. Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight, Minette?"
"Only half a dozen times. But I'm more than happy to hear it again," she grinned.
"You look beautiful." His words made her blush, just as they had every other time he'd spoken them. She'd even accused him once of maybe embellishing the truth. Just a little bit. But he hadn't. Not at all.
Her look for the evening was something straight out of the golden age of Hollywood. The dress was a classic style with very straight lines. It had sleeves that were little more than straps that cut across her upper arms. That left her shoulders bare, and Jason had been tempted more than once to press kisses to them. The bust of the dress was sort of a pseudo-sweetheart that rested just under her collar bones. There was a short plunge in the center that stopped before it reached the valley of her breasts. More like an allusion to her curves than an exposé on them. The skirt hung straight and long around her legs, brushing the floor when she was standing even with a pair of heels on. The material used to create the dress was a rich, heavy velvet that was some shade of forest green that still ended up looking black in certain lights.
Her hair had been combed back from her face on one side, pinned back so that the large, soft curls that had been put into it brushed against her neck. The other side had been left to hang, gentle waves located near her temple flowing into more of the large, soft curls. She wore a velvet choker with the dress, a large onyx cabochon resting in the center of the band. Intricate silver swirls surrounded the stone, creating a flash of color against an ensemble that was otherwise almost monotone. That bit of silver was echoed in the embroidery on his vest, tiny silver moons chasing one another across the blue of the silk. Micah's vest bore the same embroidery, but his was in a green that was lighter than Minette's dress, but darker than his eyes. He looked very at ease in his tuxedo, while Jason itched to rip the bow tie off and undo three or four buttons.
"And you look so handsome," she replied before turning her attention Micah's way. "You both do. I'm so lucky to be on the arms of the two handsomest men here tonight."
"Sweet talk like that will get you anything you like," Jason teased.
"Man, I hope so," Minette shot back. She let heat fill her voice, pulling a soft groan from Jason's throat.
"No fair. That's teasing," he whined.
"Sold for one hundred eighty four thousand!" Singleton's voice cut across the very X-rated thoughts he was having. Jesus Christ, he didn't know how much longer he could stand this crap. He wanted nothing more than to take Minette home and make good on the teasing. "Up next, an intimate meal for two at The Hanging Gardens!"
"Fuck," Jason groaned.
"When we get home, lover. When we get home," Minette promised. It was going to be a long, long damn night.
~*~*~*~*~
She didn't slam the door open this time, instead opened it quietly. He almost didn't know she was there. But her hand played with the knob, the noise of the mechanism drawing his attention her way. She looked pensive. Angry. Hurt. Confused. When she saw she had his attention, she closed the door behind her and moved deeper into the small room. "Tell me what troubles you this time," he said gently.
"He has been with her," she told him. There was nothing in her voice to give away her feelings, but he suspected she wanted to cry.
"Been with her? In the biblical sense?" He was sure that's what she meant. But he wanted the clarification.
"Yes," she said, just a hiss of anger touching the word. He nodded his head and stood from the bed. Stared at her across the room.
"And you're here to ask me to help you," he concluded.
"Yes. I do not know what spell she has cast upon him, but it appears as if she has cast the same spell on his second. They have both taken her to bed," she replied. He frowned at that. Perhaps he wasn't far from the truth and she had cast some sort of spell on the vampires. It was entirely possible she was a witch as well as a whore.
"There isn't a moment to waste, then," he finally told her. "We have to put an end to her sorcery before she ensnares anyone else."
The woman looked as if she felt it was too late, as if the whore had already done just that. But she said nothing and watched him quietly. "What do we do?"
"We give her over to the people I mentioned to you before. They'll deal with her for you." He kept the eagerness from his voice. It wouldn't do for her to know that he was more than excited by her presence there, that he'd been hoping for this since the first moment she'd stepped into his cell.
"And how do we do that?" she questioned.
"There is a number you can call. You'll reach them that way. But you have to be certain that this is what you want to do. Once they take her, they won't give her back. Not even if you threaten them with death. They'll keep her in their care and try to destroy the evil that has taken hold of her soul."
The woman snarled at him, anger bringing life to her face where there had been none before. Her fangs glistened in the low light, making him think of a fight between two feral cats he'd seen once. They'd hissed and snarled and bared their fangs at one another before attacking and trying to rip one another to pieces. "I do not care! I want her to die! I would kill her myself if I could."
"Very well." He took a few steps closer to her and stared at her. "There is a magazine that has the number in it. You can find it at any news stand. Its a religious publication. These people run ads in the back of it. Various ads, most meant to draw people to them. People who are searching for God. But there is another ad, one that most people pay little attention to. Its little more than phone number. And a message telling people to call them if they find the demon's whore."
She stared at him, as if she thought he was mad.
"If you go to the stand located near the Church of the Holy Light, you can ask the man who runs it to help you. He's a friend of mine. His name is Franklin. Tell him Peter sent you. Tell him to give you the number and he'll do it."
"And what will I do with this number?" she asked, as if it wasn't obvious.
"You'll wait until you are aware of an occasion when the whore will be away from your master. When she'll be by herself. You'll call that number and give tell the person who answers that you know where to find the demon's whore. And then you'll tell them where to find her. Tell them what she looks like. Tell them where she'll be and when. That's all you need to do. And they'll do the rest," he explained. "They'll find her and they'll take her with them. And they'll do everything they can to drive the evil from her. They'll do what they can to break the spell she's placed on your master."
She looked as if she didn't believe him. "That is all I need to do? Call a number and tell them where to find her?"
"That's all," he promised. "I swear to you that they'll deal with her for you. You won't have to get your hands dirty. You won't have to lie to your master if he ever asks you what you did. Because you'll have done nothing. And, in return for my help, you'll get me out of here. You'll help me escape this place."
"What makes you think I can help you escape?" she asked, staring at him intently. As if she expected to find the lie in his words simply by looking at him.
"No one here pays you any attention, do they? They only care about your master and his whore. They'll never notice if you help me escape. And you needn't be involved directly. All you need do is forget to lock the door one morning before the sun rises. A simple accident. A mistake anyone can make. No one will ever know you helped me anymore than they'll know that I helped you."
"You make is sound so simple," she replied quietly.
"It is. So very simple. Do this one thing and you'll have everything you desire. The whore will be gone and your master will be yours."
"How do I know you are not lying to me simply to get me to help you escape?"
"I gave you a way to get rid of your rival. And only asked that you help me leave here if it works. Not before. Just if. If it doesn't work, if nothing comes of this, then you don't have to let me go. I'll take it as a sign from God that I'm meant to stay here and save souls some other way." He made sure to keep his voice meek and mild. He wanted to ensure she had no reason to doubt him. Because his life depended upon her faith in him.
She frowned at him, but she didn't move. He took it as a sign that she wanted to believe him more than anything. So he remained silent. Waited her out while she stared. And he saw it finally when she came to her decision. It was in the way her shoulders relaxed. So minutely. He almost missed that. "Very well. I will do as you ask. I will visit this Franklin person. And I will watch the whore until she makes a mistake. Once I am assured that the spell on my master is removed, I will help you find your way free of this place. But do not think to cross me, mortal. I have been alive for many long years. I know a few things about inflicting pain. You will wish you were dead before I finish with you."
"Only fair," he agreed, doing his best to keep the fear from his voice. She was a creature who thrived on fear. He wasn't going to give her that power over him. He lifted one hand. "I swear to God that my only desire is to help you. I can see how much you love your master. How much this is tearing you up inside. I only want to help."
She continued to stare, to size him up and possibly seek out any lie he might be telling. He waited as patiently and as calmly as he could. Ultimately, it had to be her choice. She had to make the decision. And he could do nothing but wait and hope.
"Do not fail me, mortal. You will not like the consequences," she said. Then she was gone and he was alone in his cell, heart slamming against his ribcage as he considered how close he'd come to possibly dying. He'd sworn he had no fear of dying for his God, knowing that he was righteous in his acts and his beliefs. But that didn't mean he wanted to die now. Not when there were still things he needed to accomplish. Not when there were things he needed to show to people.
Limbs weak with relief, he sank down onto his cot and turned his eyes heavenward. "Please, God," he whispered, voice barely making a sound in the silent room. "Please. Let this work. Let it work so that I can show him that I still believe. Please."
~*~*~*~*~
The room was too goddamn big to keep a proper eye out for trouble. Even with his back against a wall, it was damned hard to keep track of where people were. Hell, he could barely see his target with all the bodies milling around. Too many people. Too much space to cover. He didn't like it. Not one bit.
Frowning, he decided it was time to move. Staying in place didn't really help him do his job. And he really did need to locate his target. Why the hell he wasn't at her side was beyond him. Fuck social obligations. Until he dealt with the threats being leveled against her, he'd like to just keep her locked away.
Aedan's reaction to such a move brought a brief smile to his face. He could well imagine what would happen if he tried to lock her up somewhere. She'd threaten his life. And probably his testicles. The girl did have spirit. He actually enjoyed her shows of spine. She made things infinitely more interesting for him. He certainly didn't want to think what the world would be like without her. God damn Anita for putting Aedan in the position she had.
Edward sighed and tried to work his way between a couple of groups of business men who were measuring their money clips while the women with them stood by and rolled their eyes and made conversation about how hard it was to find good help these days. Naturally no one paid him any attention, which was just as well. If anyone bothered to look at his face, they'd realize that he really didn't belong at this function. Put an expensive, custom tailored tuxedo on him and it was automatically assumed that he belonged there. It was amazing how unobservant people could actually be.
He happened upon her friends, clustered together and talking quietly amongst themselves. He found it surprising that all of them had ended up at this gala event, though he supposed he could understand how such a thing had happened. Minette was part of Jean Claude's triumvirate, the third part of his power. It made sense she'd be there. And, seeing as she was involved with Micah, who was head of the coalition, she had an in on that front, too. It was Micah's position that had seen him invited, because the core values of the coalition ran parallel to those of the MarSin Foundation. Top that off with the fact that Micah and Minette controlled the pard...
Isis and Damian were Rex and Regina. As leaders of the pride, their presence made sense. Asher was a businessman with ties to the community. Naturally, he'd bring Janika with him. The two of them had been dating for some time. Jason and Rhiannon were there to represent the pack. Richard was still not out about the fact that he was a werewolf, so showing up at this party as Ulfric would have done him no favors. Jason sort of made sense, since he often played snack to Jean Claude. And Rhiannon... She was the pack's vargamor. So, they all made sense. All except for Nathaniel, who seemed to be glued to Rhiannon's side. Edward's best guess there was that she hadn't wanted to come without him.
The women had been left mostly by themselves, only Nathaniel and Jason left to keep them company. No doubt the other three had gotten caught up talking to other guests about things considered to be manly interests. Jason happened to glance up at him as he passed by and nodded his head, acknowledging Edward's presence. Edward returned the nod and kept going, catching brief snippets of conversation here and there.
"... is having an affair with his maid. Can you believe it?"
"Does she know?"
"She does. And if I were her, I'd have already thrown his cheating ass out because..."
Edward bit back the sigh that came at that. It must be terrible to have nothing better to do with your life than gossip about a friend's personal troubles. He pushed that one aside and continued on, looking for faces he knew. He passed another group of gossipers.
"He's loaded, of course. I told my daughter she couldn't do better than that. But she insisted I was wrong and ran off with a musician."
"The nerve. Did you disown her?"
If the girl was lucky, the woman had disowned her. He shook his head at the stupidity of it all and kept working his way through the crowd. There were worse things in the world than running off with a musician. Like maybe falling in love with a vampire. He caught sight of Asher in the midst of a group of what was likely businessmen. He was speaking animatedly, his hands making gestures to accompany his words. The men around him seemed to be listening intently to what he had to say. Edward wondered what kind of business advice Asher could give them. The thought was fleeting, though, because he'd finally laid eyes on his target.
Aedan stood next to Jean Claude, who was talking with a pair of tuxedoed men who seemed to not even realize there was a woman there. The two of them were still some distance away, more than a dozen feet. But even from where he stood, Edward could tell Aedan was bored. An event like this was very much not something she was into and he was relatively sure she was only there because it was expected of her. She had her hands clasped together before her, an empty smile plastered onto her face. Jean Claude had one hand resting on her back, either a way of keeping her there and making sure one and all knew she was his and his alone. Edward wouldn't be surprised if it was both.
"She looks... plain. Surely he could do better than that," a soft voice said close by. Edward found himself seeking out the owner of the voice, because something in the way she'd sneered the words had caught his attention. He found a pair of young women, probably in their mid to late twenties, staring openly at Jean Claude. And at Aedan.
"She has to have something going for her. I heard her talking to Aaron earlier and she said she was his human servant." This came from the other woman, who seemed less inclined to be catty than her friend.
"His previous human servant hasn't even been dead that long. She moved awfully fast," the first girl said. Edward heard jealousy and envy in her voice.
"I don't know, Beth. I can't imagine he'd take another human servant unless there was something special about her." It was obvious the second girl didn't seem to find the reasons important. In fact, she acted as if she didn't want to be involved in the conversation. The first girl turned to look at her friend.
"Oh, I'm sure there's something special about her. Something like blackmail." Beth was about to tell a secret. He could hear it in the tone of her voice. Edward moved forward so that he could be party to this conversation. He had to admit that he was curious and this whole evening had been boring as hell. A little entertainment was definitely in order. "I heard from a very reliable source that she had something to do with his previous human servant's death."
The second girl stared a moment, frowning as she worked through that statement. "Are you saying she helped murder Anita Blake?" There was no denying the fact that girl number two was extremely skeptical about that.
"Its what I heard," Beth returned, shrugging one shoulder in what was meant to be a negligent manner.
"And does he know that?" Girl number two let all of her doubt show in her voice.
"If Aedan killed Anita and Jean Claude knew, she wouldn't be here on his arm. And she wouldn't be his human servant. He'd have killed her himself," Edward informed them. Both girls turned to stare at him. Beth looked annoyed at having been overheard. The second girl looked guilty at having been caught.
"Do you mind?" Beth demanded haughtily, doing her best to look down her nose at him. Edward offered her a cold smile. "This is a private conversation. You weren't invited."
"Be glad I'm the one who overheard you and not Aedan. I find you amusing. She'd find you annoying. And she'd probably punch you in your perfectly sculpted nose. No doubt your plastic surgeon wouldn't be happy at having to fix his work. I suggest you forget your previous topic of conversation and stick to something safe. Like Daddy's money or who the hottest designer is."
"Asshole!" Beth spat. Edward let the expression slip from his face so that Beth found herself staring at Death. The girl visibly recoiled and took a few steps back. Satisfied that he'd put Beth in her place, he sketched a mock bow to the two of them.
"Good evening, ladies," he said as he rose, then turned to where he'd last seen Aedan with Jean Claude. Only to find that she'd slipped away when he'd been preoccupied and now he had to start hunting her down all over again. Damn it.
How the hell was he supposed to protect her if he couldn't find her?
~*~*~*~*~
Aedan put a hand on Jean Claude's arm to attract his attention. He and a gentleman who had introduced himself as the head of some commission were deep in discussion about the vampire district and whether or not it could do more for St. Louis' tourist industry. At the touch of her hand, Jean Claude glanced her way. It meant the other man did, too. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to use the ladies' room."
"Of course, ma mie," Jean Claude replied with a touch of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She gave her own smile to him and to his conversation companion and turned to head across the room. She didn't have the heart to tell Jean Claude, or Aaron Singleton, that she was bored off her ass. Of course she'd had the chance to catch up with her friends over the course of the evening but because of who they were and what they represented, they all had to mingle and be seen. She hadn't had time to herself since they'd gotten out of the limo.
Crowds like this weren't her thing. Too many bodies in too little space. It didn't matter how big the room was, it was still too small. She'd never liked being in crowds like this. It was the only time she felt claustrophobic. She passed people by with a murmured 'excuse me' to be polite. Most people didn't even acknowledge her as she went by. And it seemed like there were more people now than there had been when they'd first arrived. So cutting across the floor toward the spot on the wall where she'd seen people disappear was harder than she liked.
When she finally reached what turned out to be a doorway, she was honestly ready to leave the whole mess behind. But the gala was still in full swing and she got the feeling that Jean Claude didn't feel it was time to leave just yet. She was just going to have to tough it out for a little while longer.
The doorway opened up into a short hallway, decorated with rich, mellow wooden paneling and a pair of gilt tables that each supported a giant vase of fragrant blossoms. The mingled scents of various flowers was almost soothing after the cloying swirl of perfumes and colognes of Aaron's guests. Aedan took a deep breath as she passed by, then let herself into the ladies' room.
There was no one there beyond the woman who worked as the attendant. It was apparently one of those fancy bathrooms where someone was there to offer you a towel and anything else you might need. It was the first time Aedan had ever seen a bathroom attendant and, for a moment, she felt a touch self-conscious about having a stranger in the bathroom while using it. Then she realized it wouldn't be any different than any other public restroom and offered the woman a smile in greeting. Then she slipped into a stall to attend to her business.
It was quiet in the ladies' room, all the noise from the party outside cut off by what must have been well insulated walls and a bit of distance. There was some soft, instrumental music playing through hidden speakers to keep it from being absolutely silent in the public restroom, but it was quiet enough to allow her time to study her own thoughts. Which was a first for the night, despite the fact that the foundation had hired a lovely string quartet to play. The press of too many people negated the calming effect of the strings as they played light, bright classical music.
Maneuvering the heavy material of her dress around was almost more than Aedan could handle. It took far longer than she liked to situate everything so she could use the toilet and not end up embarrassing herself. Which meant she had to fight not to wet herself as she wrestled with skirts and underwear. A person had to be a fucking witch or some shit to wear something like the dress she had on and not get it dirty while trying to use the toilet. So it took some five minutes or more to accomplish her task.
When she stepped out of the stall, it was to find that the attendant was no where in attendance. Which she found odd. Maybe it was the woman's break? Shaking her head, Aedan headed to the sink to wash her hands and check that her face was still properly made up. Not that she could do anything about it if it wasn't. She didn't have any make up with to touch up any smears or smudges. She wet and lathered up her hands, then looked up at the mirror. The reflective surface told her that she was as impeccably made up as she had been when they'd left the Circus. And it told her something else. There were feet showing under the door to one of the stalls. Feet that were kind of tilted sideways and wearing a pair of black pumps that were kind of plain.
She hadn't heard anyone else come in. And she was fairly certain no one at the gala would be wearing what amounted to a twenty dollar pair of shoes from Payless Shoes. Shit. This didn't bode well. Not at all.
Body and mind on high alert, Aedan made her way slowly across the room to the closed stall door. Her eyes shifted back and forth, seeking out any signs of danger. There was nothing to see, which only made her heart hammer harder in her chest. When she got close enough, she peered through the crack between the stall's wall and its door. She could see the attendant, or part of her, settled on the toilet at an angle. There was a soft pattering sound coming from behind the door, but before Aedan could discover what it was, the door slammed open and a woman with dark hair and an extremely expensive dress surged out of the stall at her.
She caught the woman's wrist as an already bloodied knife arced down toward her chest, the blade only inches from its target before Aedan twisted into the woman and put her back to her attacker's chest so that she could bend the woman's wrist into an unnatural angle. The woman didn't make any noise, despite the loud crack her wrist gave as the force Aedan applied to it made it bend the way it wasn't supposed to. The knife clattered to the floor from her attacker's useless hand, already forgotten. The woman changed tactics and grabbed her hair with her free hand, shoved her forward.
The marble of the sink area was hard and it felt like her skull split when the two met. Stars swirled and it took Aedan longer than she liked to regain her senses. By the time she did, it was to find that the woman had looped a thin circle of metal around her throat. With her one good hand, she pulled the loop tight until the garrote cut off Aedan's oxygen and sent panic flooding her brain. The woman then put her other arm around Aedan and pulled her close, making it easier for her to control her victim.
They were facing the mirror, so Aedan could see the woman's face. The determined look she wore. The burning hatred in her eyes. It was the face of someone who was working with the secret, Anita Blake and Aedan Kinkade hating cabal. "My master will see you dead, necromancer," the woman whispered in her ear. The huskiness of the woman's voice made it more an intimate caress than a threat.
"Fuck you," Aedan gasped as she raised her leg. Then she stomped down hard on the woman's foot and grinned in triumph when her heel speared through the woman's flesh. Thank the gods she'd chosen to wear custom made heels to this damned event. The garrote loosened fractionally as the pain hit the woman's system. She put an elbow into her attacker's stomach and shoved, gagging as the garrote tightened briefly before sliding from the woman's grasp when she tumbled backward. One hand reached up for the hair sticks and pulled them free of the bun, held them like the weapons they were meant to be.
The woman staggered and lost her balance, one hand and one foot absolutely useless. She went down hard, tried to pull herself away as Aedan advanced on her. Rage threaded through Aedan, pushed aside the pain that pounded in her skull and at her throat. She nearly threw herself down on the woman so that she straddled the bitch's waist. One hand pinned her to the floor by the throat, the other lifted over her head and still clutched around the hair sticks. The woman's gaze flicked to them and saw the silver that had been wrapped around them. Saw the sharp, pointed ends that were aimed at the woman's chest. "I hope your master is linked to you right now, that he's monitoring this so he sees first hand that I'm harder than shit to kill."
The woman's eyes widened as she saw Aedan's intent shining in her own. Then the fear was gone and replaced with something old and wrong. The woman's master, no doubt. "You are not invincible, necromancer. This human is weak. Kill her and I will only come after you again. This time with someone stronger. I will have your heart in my hand." There was a low, almost masculine edge to the words that didn't quite mesh with the voice speaking them.
"Go ahead and try. I'll kill you, too," she told the woman's master in a tone that held no bragging or boasting. It was calm and steady and even. And full of fact.
"I wish you luck, necromancer," the voice told her, then it was gone and she was once more staring into the woman's eyes. Which widened again and filled with panic and terror. And the understanding that her master would not save her.
"And fuck your master," she told the woman before bringing her arm down. The sticks pierced through skin and muscle until they found their way into the woman's heart. She felt the surge of power at the same time, felt the woman's good hand find her throat and squeeze. Hard. There was strength behind that hand, strength that didn't belong to a human. And certainly not a human that had just been stabbed through the heart. She clawed at the hand, tried to pull it away. But the vice like grip it had on her throat wouldn't give. The woman's fingers flexed down, digging into her skin in an effort to crush her windpipe.
Black spots were dancing across her vision when her hand found the sticks and pulled one free. When she lifted her arm one more time and brought it down, barely capable of seeing her target. She was nearly blind when she felt something warm and wet splash up against her face and neck, when she heard the silver tip grate against something hard and unforgiving.
Then the door burst open behind her and a gunshot filled the confined space. Her ears rang and her heart pounded and she felt more warmth spray her flesh and she prayed that her death was quick.
Chapter Fifty Nine: A Shaky Foundation
Fandom: Anita Blake universe
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: graphic sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of LKH. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. the Sues are the sole property of their originators, Ginevra, Dazzledfirestar, Nanaea, SilverFoxChan and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.
Author's Notes: aaaaaand we're back to my brain throwing in shit that doesn't need to be thrown in. ugh. so, yeah. this happened. don't ask where it came from. you guess is as good as mine
The Mary Sue Virus: Beyond Death - Index Link
"Ladies and gentlemen. Old friends and new. Welcome to the annual MarSin Foundation's gala event!" A man's voice echoed throughout the room, drawing Isis' attention toward a raised platform on one end of the banquet hall. A man who looked to be in his early thirties stood at a microphone, staring out over the people crowding the place. His dark hair was combed back in a fashionable style, cut just so by a stylist who no doubt charged an arm and a leg for that look, and his tux looked rich even across the distance.
Then again, so did the clothing of pretty much everyone in the room. Isis let her gaze slide from one small cluster of people to the next, taking in the richness of some gown or the smooth perfection of a tuxedo jacket. Every man present was in a black tux, which only made sense given it was a black tie event. Most of them had stuck with black vests, but a few had decided to add a splash of flair by wearing a colored vest. Some of those men wore vests that complimented their companion's gown. It was that way with Damian's vest. It was a rich, luxurious gold satin embroidered with tiny lions in red thread that perfectly matched his hair. Hair that shone luminously against the midnight of his coat.
The same gold satin had been used to craft her dress. It reminded her of something one of Hollywood's golden era leading ladies would have worn. A pair of straps looped around the back of her neck and held the bodice up. Said bodice had a moderate plunge to it, offering a tantalizing view of her cleavage to any who desired to look. A strap ran across her back at the midway point, keeping the bodice tight against her torso and allowing the back to plunge down to the top of her ass. The skirt laid heavy against the hips before falling in a slightly belled shape to the floor. There was just enough flair that the skirt moved and flowed when she walked, but not enough to see it fluttering all over the place. A pair of gold leather heels added just a few inches of height. A golden collar fit snug against her throat, sporting a red stone that flashed and caught the light every time she moved. A single cuff with the same stone rested on her right wrist, while more of the stones dangled from her ears on delicate red chains. Her hair had been left long, curling softly around her face and shoulders to rest gently against her back. A lace shawl in soft gold draped from her arms.
"What is the MarSin Foundation?" Isis asked Damian, her eyes never slipping away from the man at the microphone.
"It is a charity group that does what it can to help aide the victims of violent attacks against lycanthropes," he told her quietly. One hand motioned toward the man on the dais. "That is Aaron Singleton. With the recent death of his father, he has taken over the running of both the foundation and the Singleton family business. Some years ago, his sister was killed for being an outspoken member of the lycanthropic community."
"Wow? Really?" she asked, turning wide eyes his way. Damian nodded in reply. "How come I've never heard of the MarSin Foundation before? Is it a secret?"
"No. But they do not advertise themselves. Too many people believe that lycanthropes do not deserve charity." His tone told her exactly what he thought about that idea. She had to agree. Too many people thought that vampires were the shit and that the lycanthropes could eat shit. It was an unfair assessment, as most people didn't set out to become lycanthropes. She was fairly certain there were people who actively sought out becoming a vampire. Humans and their way of thinking was so fucked up.
"We are so lucky to have with us tonight several members of our lycanthropic community, as well as the head of the Coalition for Better Understanding Between Human and Lycanthrope Communities." One of the man's hands waved in the general direction she knew Micah to be. Isis was fairly certain that he wouldn't like being exposed by their host, but she guessed that it was the price he had to pay for being at the gala. Then the man's hand went in another direction, drawing all eyes that way. "We are also fortunate that the Master of the City has joined us this evening."
A murmur went up among the crowd as they focused on the spot where Jean Claude stood. He seemed untouched by the attention, but the stiff way Aedan stood beside him and the generic expression she wore suggested Aedan was not as pleased by it. Soon enough, Aaron Singleton was speaking again, drawing all eyes back to where he stood on the dais. "As you all know, the MarSin Foundation is near and dear to my heart. We wouldn't be here if not for my sister, Marla, who was the inspiration for this charity event. I hope that you'll all give as generously this year as you did last year. I know Marla, were she here, would be pleased to see just how much you've given to help victims of violence and she'd encourage you to continue giving so that we could eradicate the need for foundations like this one."
The room fell to silence as everyone present no doubt thought of Singleton's sister or someone else they knew who had been viciously attacked. Possibly left for dead.
"As with years past, you are more than welcome to make a donation of cash or check. The table on the far wall is being manned by some of the people who work for the foundation and they'll gladly take your money. This year, we're doing something a little different. We've put together an auction. I'm going to let the items up for bed remain a surprise for now, but be assured that they're all wonderful and well worth your time and your money. So, please. Enjoy the gala. Eat. Drink. Dance. Be merry. And please give."
There was a soft click that said the audio to the microphone had been shut off. Aaron Singleton stepped away from the mic stand and moved down off the dais and made his way over to where Aedan and Jean Claude stood. His face was animated as he took up conversation with the two of them, though it almost looked as if Aedan was speaking more than Jean Claude.
Soft music filled the room, taking up the empty space that lived between all the different conversations. A string quartet was located in a corner, providing some classical pieces for those who weren't as interested in conversation. Another wall was lined with tables that were laden with food and drink. Damian made a motion to them with one hand. "Let us go find you something to eat and drink while we wait for the evening to kick into gear."
Isis stared at him for a moment. "Have you been to one of these before?" she asked him as he hooked his arm with hers. He propelled her into motion before he bothered to answer her.
"I have not. I was never high enough on anyone's list to ever be invited to something like this. But I have known many who have gone to events such as these and their stories suggest that fundraisers tend to follow the same patterns. There is food to be eaten. Beverages to be drunk. Talk to be made. Money to be solicited. And people to be seen."
"What? Like... Some kind of social event for rich people?"
Her question saw him laughing softly. Just enough to make her shiver at the sound of it. "Just so, Isis. This is a socially acceptable event for rich people. Attending a dance club or a strip club is considered beneath the type of people who come to events like this. So their rich friends hold galas. And balls. So that they may all come out and be seen and socialize in acceptable places and situations."
"Wow. That's kind of fucked up," she replied, letting her gaze slide around the room. How sad was it that these people didn't just... go hang out with their friends when the desire took them? Who wanted to have to get dressed up and play high and mighty in order to spend time with their bestie? Certainly not her.
"It is the way of people with money. And has been for a very long time."
"I think I prefer our kinds of social events to ones like this," she told him.
"I think I do, too." She caught the warmth in his voice and had to tell herself that she couldn't strip him naked and do him there. It wasn't refined enough for these people. And she didn't want to share Damian's beauty with anyone else. So she remained silent and allowed him to escort her to the refreshments table. Isis had to wonder about that for a moment, because she'd have thought the charity would have raised money by selling plates to the guests. But other people had lined up at the tables and were filling plates with delicious looking finger foods. Her tummy took the opportunity to remind her that it liked food.
Isis gave a mental shrug and decided to go with the flow. What did she know about gala events anyway? This was the first time she'd ever been to one. So she said nothing and allowed Damian to pull her into line with him, where they waited together in silence for the opportunity to pick tasty tidbits for her to nibble on.
~*~*~*~*~
Asher's gaze strayed to Janika, who stood at his side, listening to the young man go on and on about the Hanging Gardens. She had a pleasant expression on her face, but he could tell she was already tired of the conversation. In fact, he was willing to guess she was tired of the gala. She was merely too polite to say as much. "I don't know where you chef comes up with his recipes, but he's brilliant and you simply must let me meet him," the man was saying.
"If I allowed every patron who thought my chef was brilliant to meet him, he would never get any meals crafted. And then I would not run a very profitable business. Would I?" Asher replied politely. He didn't need to dig into the man's mind to know he, like so many others, wanted to steal his chef away from him.
His answer didn't seem to deter the young man. And he was young. Asher put his age in the very early twenties. He was new to money, but money wasn't new to him. He'd grown up with it and, as such, had grown up never having anyone tell him no. For the moment, the young man was confident he could change Asher's mind about his chef. But the insolent pup would learn soon enough that he was going to end up as disappointed as people with less money than him. And that was when things would get ugly.
"I'm willing to pay to meet him," the kid said. His eyes were hard with his determination. Intent. Which told Asher everything he needed to know about the young man. He was trouble, just waiting for a reason to happen.
"And I would have to respectfully decline such an offer on my chef's behalf." Asher made sure to put a touch of strength into his words. The kid completely missed that strength. Or he ignored it.
"Afraid you'd lose your precious chef to someone who can offer him more?"
"No. Afraid my chef would lose his temper and put his many skills to work," Asher replied, tone such that one had to try and figure out if he was serious or not. He saw Janika trying to stifle her humor at his comment and knew she'd figured it out.
"Perhaps you can talk some sense into him," the kid said before turning to Asher's partner. He watched as the young mortal let his gaze sweep over Janika in an assessing, consuming look that would tell the kid everything he felt he needed to know about her. And he knew what the kid would see. A petite young woman, who looked as if she could be easily trod upon, easily influenced, clad in a heavy satin gown that clung to every glorious curve of her body.
The dress was cream colored, with halter style straps that climbed up over her shoulder and around her neck. There was a deep plunge between her breasts, giving people a tantalizing view of the pale skin beneath the satin. The bodice was structured so that it fit snug against the fullness of her breasts, the narrowness of her waist, the flare of her hips. The back dipped low while a single slit climbed up her leg so that she flashed more of her delectable skin when she walked. Gold thread adorned the bodice, ensuring that everyone's attention was drawn to that deep plunge, racing along the edges in a series of curlicue designs that could have been anything. A pale gold shawl acted as cover for her shoulders and gold satin heels added three or four inches to her height.
Her long red hair had been swept up into an intricate design of braids that were woven into a coronet that crowned her head. Small cream colored pearls and winking golden gems had been tucked into the crown. More gold flashed at her ears and her wrists, while a delicate strand of pearls and more gold gems circled her throat. Subtle make up that left her skin looking natural only served to enhance her beauty, save the soft pink of her lips and the black kohl lining her eyes. The black mascara that lengthened and darkened her eyelashes.
She was a vision of stunning beauty. And Asher watched as their unwanted companion looked right past that to see a young woman he thought he could push around and influence with his prestige. It was almost enough to bring a smile to Asher's lips. The young man was about to be so disappointed and Asher couldn't bring himself to stop the boy before he made a fool of himself.
"Me?" Janika asked, making it sound like she wasn't at all sure why the man would be going to her. No doubt she wanted to hear his reasoning behind his actions. Asher admitted he was curious, as well.
"Of course. A woman of your beauty and talents can surely use them to change his mind on this. He's being incredibly arrogant about not sharing his chef." While Janika's expression didn't change, Asher felt her temper spike at the implication that she would ever do something like what the man had just suggested.
"I'm sorry. I believe you must have mistaken me for someone else," she replied, tone going cold. The kid blinked at her, not quite understanding what had brought about her sudden dislike.
"Excuse me?"
"Well, its obvious you think that I'm some sort of whore and that I would use sex to influence anything anyone did. Do you think Asher picked me up off the streets for tonight? Do you think this is some kind of working girl's date?" she asked him, not quite letting her temper leak out. The boy continued to stare, still not getting where he'd made his mistake. "As it happens, Asher and I are in a committed relationship. And even if I thought I could use sex to get what I wanted with him, that isn't who I am. I'd simply ask him. And if he said no, I'd leave it at that. But its obvious that some spoiled little rich kid doesn't get that people are allowed to say no to him."
"It isn't like that!" their companion insisted. Her words had brought his temper to life.
"Isn't it? Asher's just told you no. So instead of accepting it gracefully, as a person should do, you turn to the woman on his arm and ask her to use her feminine wiles to get you what you want. That sounds a great deal like not taking no for an answer to me. Its even worse because you automatically assume that the woman you're speaking to is some kind of prostitute for sale to the highest bidder. Let me assure you, sir, that even if I were a prostitute, as you so mistakenly came to believe, I would never lower myself to your level of arrogance and stupidity. So I suggest you take your answer and walk away before I actually lose my temper."
The young man said nothing, only stared at Janika with wide eyes. If his mouth gaped a little, Asher said nothing. It was painfully obvious no one had ever put him in his place before. Or, if they had, he'd been able to do something to make their life hell. Asher could well imagine there was a maid or two in his history that had lost her job because she'd dared speak her mind to him. After several long moments, the young man's mouth closed and a look of disbelief settled onto his face. He fought down the urge to say something unkind to her. Finally, he turned and stalked off, leaving the two of them alone.
"You were amazing, mon ange," Asher told her, a touch of amusement coloring his voice. She smiled up at him, ran her hand over the heavy satin of his vest. It matched her gown, rich cream material shot through with gold thread. She let her hand linger against his chest a moment, then allowed it to fall away and gave him a tight smile.
"He was an asshole. He deserved more than that. But we're here for a good cause and I didn't want to turn him off helping. It just sucks that he wouldn't take no for an answer. I don't think you were being unreasonable. I've met your chef and he's a perfectly lovely person. Who just so happens to value his privacy. And you're kind enough to accept that."
"Some people do not believe that allowing someone their privacy extends to them," he said quietly, gesturing after the retreating figure of their unwanted conversationalist. "Some people feel they are above all that."
"Well, some people are fuckwads," she replied quietly. Her voice didn't carry to the people around them, but there was no disguising the disgust in it.
"It is the nature of humanity to think those who have more are inherently better than those who do not," he reminded her.
"Then I guess its a good thing I'm with you and not someone like him," she responded. Asher smiled at her and pulled her close for a quick kiss.
"It is very good, indeed. Good for me. Because you are amazing," he told her softly.
"You're damn right I am," she returned with a grin. "And you'd better not forget it, mister."
"If I do?" he asked, curious how she'd answer.
Janika's entire expression changed, eyes darkening with emotions that didn't really belong at a gala ball such as this. She inched a little closer to him so that she could press the softness of her breasts to his chest. Her voice, when it came, was husky with need and promise. "Then I guess I'll have to remind you."
~*~*~*~*~
They'd retired to their table because Rhia's feet were killing her. She wasn't used to heels and even though her heels weren't very high, it was still a trial to get through the night with them on. Nathaniel sat in the chair next to hers, his hand resting on her knee under the table as they stared at the man up on the dais. She knew his name was Aaron Singleton and he was representing the foundation that was throwing the gala event they were presently at. But that was about it. A waiter drifted past the table and settled a glass of ice water before both of them. Rhia offered him a smile in thanks, then picked up the glass and sipped at it. "Thank you for coming with me tonight, Nathaniel. This would have been so boring without you here," Rhia said quietly. Her companion turned to give her a smile.
"There's no where I'd rather be, Rhia," Nathaniel replied. She basked in the honest sincerity in his voice.
"Still. It was very last minute and I was afraid I'd be stuck here without a buffer against all of these people." There were far too many people attending the gala. Rhia could handle being around larger groups. But this was far too large for her liking. And there really wasn't anywhere she could go to get away from all the milling bodies. And, oddly, she meant what she said. Nathaniel was somehow the perfect foil for all of the discordant energy on the air. She'd come to find his personal energy, the nearly biting energy of his lycanthropy, a soothing thing. Having him close by kept her sane amidst this whole mess.
"Well, we know that Richard wasn't going to come to something like this. That would out his position as the Ulfric and he wasn't going to do that," Nathaniel said softly, words meant only for her. His gaze slid over her, a look that was both warm and possessive. It sent chills sliding down her spine. "You were an obvious choice. As the pack's vargamor, you have some authority to speak for Richard."
"I do not want that authority," she shook her head.
"You shouldn't need to do too much speaking on his behalf tonight. But if the need arises, you have more position within the pack than Jason does," Nathaniel smiled, his head tipping in the direction of the wolf. Rhia turned to look and found that he looked to be having some lively debate with Minette about something. She was laughing and, even across the distance, Rhia recognized the wicked gleam in Jason's eyes. He was teasing Minette, probably with dirty thoughts. And Minette was enjoying every second of it.
"I guess," Rhia agreed. "Jason is still better at pack politics than I am."
"Which is why you're both here. You have authority. He has knowledge. The two of you are more than capable of speaking for the pack, if someone has questions. Stop worrying about it so much. The night is half over and no one has come looking for information about the pack yet. Its highly likely they won't. So you're just here to represent."
She smiled at Nathaniel and settled her hand over his. His skin was so very warm and that touch allowed his energy to dance against her flesh. She savored it. "I know. But this isn't my type of thing. I don't like crowds. I don't like people staring at me. I'm not comfortable among all these rich, powerful people."
"People are staring at you because you're beautiful, Rhia," Nathaniel assured her. She wasn't so sure about that, despite the beautiful dress she was wearing. It was made of a deep, dark purple silk with loose fitting sleeves that hit her mid arm and a deep vee plunge between her breasts that stopped at the bottom edge of her bust. The skirt was straight, an a-line, and hung to the floor, and it moved gently around her legs when she walked. The silk had been shot through with metallic silver and lighter threads of lavender so that the dress had depth and motion even when she wasn't walking. Her modest heels were black, her jewelry silver with purple stones, and her hair had been twisted up into an intricate knot at the back of her head.
Nathaniel wore a tux, as did every man in the place. His vest was perfectly matched to hers, the same dark purple silk teased with hints of lavender and silver. She didn't have to actually look to know the lighter shade of purple matched his eyes. She'd noticed, as they'd conversed with their friends, that the dresses where matched to the vests. Marking couples in not so subtle ways. Rhia had to wonder if Jean Claude had been involved in that decision.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, its time for the most enjoyable part of our evening." Aaron Singleton's voice pulled her away from her thoughts. She turned to find him back on the dais, before the microphone. Several clusters of attendees were already moving forward. Rhia shared a look with Nathaniel, who only shrugged, then turned her attention back to the dais. "Its time to start our auction."
A woman in a long sleeved black dress moved up to stand to the side of their host, next to a table that had been set up on the dais. It no doubt held the items for auction, though Rhia couldn't say what those items might be. She couldn't see anything, really. Considering she wasn't there to bid on anything, that she was there to be a stand in for Richard, she tuned Singleton out and gave her attention back to Nathaniel. "How much longer are we expected to put on a show here?" she asked, keeping her voice low so that no one around them picked up on her desire to be as far from this place as possible.
Not that she thought the charity was a bad one. She didn't. She thought it was a very good charity and she hoped that Singleton's foundation met their fundraising goal and then some. Too many people were left to fend for themselves after catching the lycanthropy virus. Too many children were shunned and put out by their families for something that was well beyond their control. Not everyone got lucky enough to find a patient, understanding, caring, nurturing alpha to help them through the difficult first days. And not everyone was strong enough to fight off ignorant, racist assholes who thought that all lycanthropes were the same.
It was more that she didn't belong here any more than Nathaniel did. Or any of the others, really. She suspected that Singleton had invited everyone in order to put on a show for his more mundane attendees. What better way to garner funds than to have real, living, breathing lycanthropes on show? And, while they're at it, why not drag a few vampires into the thing? She was sure Singleton saw that as a sure fire way to get the funds he wanted. Conversations had with the others over the course of the evening suggested that no one really wanted to be there. That they were uncomfortable being on display as they were. And they were definitely on display. Rhia had heard people whispering about how normal and nice the lycanthropes looked.
"We're here until Jean Claude decides its time to leave," he informed her.
"Great." She didn't bother to try and keep the sarcasm from her voice. Nathaniel sent a smile her way. He reached for a hand, lifted it up, and pressed a kiss to her palm.
"I'll make this whole night up to you when we get home," he told her quietly. There was a very definite promise in his voice that was absolutely adult in nature. Rhia smiled.
"Oh, yeah? Just how are you going to do that?"
His smile widened, took on a more seductive quality. She watched as he leaned forward so that he could put his lips right next to her ear. When he started telling her, in great detail, exactly what he'd do to make the evening up to her, heat rushed through her veins and pooled low in her belly. Rhia had to hold herself very still in order to keep herself from shuddering in front of everyone.
And she had the very uncharitable thought that she really hoped something happened that convinced Jean Claude they should all leave early. Because she really wanted to get to the enjoyable portion of the evening.
~*~*~*~*~
"Next up for auction is something I'm sure the ladies in the audience will not want to miss." Singleton's voice was filled with smug satisfaction, as if he was sure the next item to go up on the block would earn him big money. Jason frowned and took a sip of his water. This entire evening was a waste of time. He'd spent much of the night being ogled by one person or another. And while he got ogled at Guilty Pleasures, he also got paid for getting ogled. So there was a little give and take on both sides there. Here, it was a lot of take and absolutely no give. He was lucky he knew how to avoid busy hands with a smile and a few polite words. If he didn't, he'd have no doubt been kicked out of the place five minutes after walking through the door.
The foundation's version of Vanna White lifted an envelope and held it up for all to see. Despite the distance, Jason could tell that the writing on the envelope belonged to Jean Claude. It left him with a very bad feeling. "The Master of the City has graciously offered up a night of drinks and fantasy. The highest bidder on this item gets an entire evening at Guilty Pleasures for themselves and up to fifty of their closest friends. For those of you not in the know, Guilty Pleasures is the place to go if you want to see lycanthropes and vampires strip down to next to nothing!"
Jason rolled his eyes and hoped like hell that he wasn't working the night the winner of this particular auction collected their prize. As if sensing his discontent, Minette reached over and squeezed his hand. "Don't worry. We'll talk to Jean Claude and see if we can't work something out."
"We're going to open the bidding at fifty thousand dollars. Do I hear fifty?" Singleton asked. Someone met the bid and Jason tuned it out. He absolutely did not understand why they'd all had to attend this weird cross between fundraiser and zoo. Because that's what it felt like to him. Like he was on display for all the norms. He and Micah and Minette and the rest of the shifters here. The vampires who weren't Jean Claude. The one glance he'd gotten of Aedan had showed a carefully crafted mask to keep people from seeing the absolute boredom that rode her. Give him a night in, watching movies or playing a board game, over this kind of thing any day.
"This is..." Micah sighed and shook his head.
"Yeah. That about covers it," Jason agreed.
"I don't know. It isn't entirely bad. The cause is good," Minette replied. She didn't sound like she really believed the words coming out of her mouth, though, which told Jason even she was having a hard time finding enthusiasm for all the fake feel-good vibes being tossed around.
"We have seventy five thousand!" Singleton's voice invaded his consciousness for a moment and Jason had to work to force it out again. He was willing to admit that he thought that Singleton was genuinely sincere about his desire to help the community. But to most of the attendees, this was a way to make themselves look and feel good amongst their peers. As if it was shockingly brave of them to open their overstuffed wallets and hand out a few bucks to the less fortunate souls. Especially if those souls happened to grow fur once a month. He knew exactly how people viewed lycanthropes. And he had no doubts that a good portion of the people here were trying to score brownie points by helping the poor, unfortunate lycanthropes.
"Maybe we can just get up and walk out. Maybe we won't get in trouble if we just go," Jason said softly, though he knew the others could tell he didn't believe it. He was fairly certain they were to remain where they were until Jean Claude gave the go ahead to leave. Which was bogus, because it was likely the vampire was as bored as everyone else was.
"This can't go on for much longer," Minette replied. "I wish I could get a headache. That might convince Jean Claude to call it an evening."
"I'm honestly surprised Aedan hasn't called it quits yet," Micah said. As a group, their eyes all cut to the table where Aedan and Jean Claude sat. Even across the distance, it was plain to see she was bored practically to tears by the whole thing. Despite only knowing her for a few short months, Jason could see she was wearing her pleasant mask to keep people from seeing just how painfully bored she was.
"One hundred fifteen thousand!" a voice from the audience cried. Jason rolled his eyes.
"Just remember that the money goes to a good cause," Minette reminded him. Jason nodded, absently twirling his water glass against the table cloth. He watched the water slosh and swirl inside its crystal confines.
"We hope." Micah was the one who gave voice to the doubt. Both Jason and Minette looked at him. Micah shrugged. "Someone had to say it. Let's look at it this way. This was a good excuse to see Minette get all dressed up."
Jason smiled. "Very true. Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight, Minette?"
"Only half a dozen times. But I'm more than happy to hear it again," she grinned.
"You look beautiful." His words made her blush, just as they had every other time he'd spoken them. She'd even accused him once of maybe embellishing the truth. Just a little bit. But he hadn't. Not at all.
Her look for the evening was something straight out of the golden age of Hollywood. The dress was a classic style with very straight lines. It had sleeves that were little more than straps that cut across her upper arms. That left her shoulders bare, and Jason had been tempted more than once to press kisses to them. The bust of the dress was sort of a pseudo-sweetheart that rested just under her collar bones. There was a short plunge in the center that stopped before it reached the valley of her breasts. More like an allusion to her curves than an exposé on them. The skirt hung straight and long around her legs, brushing the floor when she was standing even with a pair of heels on. The material used to create the dress was a rich, heavy velvet that was some shade of forest green that still ended up looking black in certain lights.
Her hair had been combed back from her face on one side, pinned back so that the large, soft curls that had been put into it brushed against her neck. The other side had been left to hang, gentle waves located near her temple flowing into more of the large, soft curls. She wore a velvet choker with the dress, a large onyx cabochon resting in the center of the band. Intricate silver swirls surrounded the stone, creating a flash of color against an ensemble that was otherwise almost monotone. That bit of silver was echoed in the embroidery on his vest, tiny silver moons chasing one another across the blue of the silk. Micah's vest bore the same embroidery, but his was in a green that was lighter than Minette's dress, but darker than his eyes. He looked very at ease in his tuxedo, while Jason itched to rip the bow tie off and undo three or four buttons.
"And you look so handsome," she replied before turning her attention Micah's way. "You both do. I'm so lucky to be on the arms of the two handsomest men here tonight."
"Sweet talk like that will get you anything you like," Jason teased.
"Man, I hope so," Minette shot back. She let heat fill her voice, pulling a soft groan from Jason's throat.
"No fair. That's teasing," he whined.
"Sold for one hundred eighty four thousand!" Singleton's voice cut across the very X-rated thoughts he was having. Jesus Christ, he didn't know how much longer he could stand this crap. He wanted nothing more than to take Minette home and make good on the teasing. "Up next, an intimate meal for two at The Hanging Gardens!"
"Fuck," Jason groaned.
"When we get home, lover. When we get home," Minette promised. It was going to be a long, long damn night.
~*~*~*~*~
She didn't slam the door open this time, instead opened it quietly. He almost didn't know she was there. But her hand played with the knob, the noise of the mechanism drawing his attention her way. She looked pensive. Angry. Hurt. Confused. When she saw she had his attention, she closed the door behind her and moved deeper into the small room. "Tell me what troubles you this time," he said gently.
"He has been with her," she told him. There was nothing in her voice to give away her feelings, but he suspected she wanted to cry.
"Been with her? In the biblical sense?" He was sure that's what she meant. But he wanted the clarification.
"Yes," she said, just a hiss of anger touching the word. He nodded his head and stood from the bed. Stared at her across the room.
"And you're here to ask me to help you," he concluded.
"Yes. I do not know what spell she has cast upon him, but it appears as if she has cast the same spell on his second. They have both taken her to bed," she replied. He frowned at that. Perhaps he wasn't far from the truth and she had cast some sort of spell on the vampires. It was entirely possible she was a witch as well as a whore.
"There isn't a moment to waste, then," he finally told her. "We have to put an end to her sorcery before she ensnares anyone else."
The woman looked as if she felt it was too late, as if the whore had already done just that. But she said nothing and watched him quietly. "What do we do?"
"We give her over to the people I mentioned to you before. They'll deal with her for you." He kept the eagerness from his voice. It wouldn't do for her to know that he was more than excited by her presence there, that he'd been hoping for this since the first moment she'd stepped into his cell.
"And how do we do that?" she questioned.
"There is a number you can call. You'll reach them that way. But you have to be certain that this is what you want to do. Once they take her, they won't give her back. Not even if you threaten them with death. They'll keep her in their care and try to destroy the evil that has taken hold of her soul."
The woman snarled at him, anger bringing life to her face where there had been none before. Her fangs glistened in the low light, making him think of a fight between two feral cats he'd seen once. They'd hissed and snarled and bared their fangs at one another before attacking and trying to rip one another to pieces. "I do not care! I want her to die! I would kill her myself if I could."
"Very well." He took a few steps closer to her and stared at her. "There is a magazine that has the number in it. You can find it at any news stand. Its a religious publication. These people run ads in the back of it. Various ads, most meant to draw people to them. People who are searching for God. But there is another ad, one that most people pay little attention to. Its little more than phone number. And a message telling people to call them if they find the demon's whore."
She stared at him, as if she thought he was mad.
"If you go to the stand located near the Church of the Holy Light, you can ask the man who runs it to help you. He's a friend of mine. His name is Franklin. Tell him Peter sent you. Tell him to give you the number and he'll do it."
"And what will I do with this number?" she asked, as if it wasn't obvious.
"You'll wait until you are aware of an occasion when the whore will be away from your master. When she'll be by herself. You'll call that number and give tell the person who answers that you know where to find the demon's whore. And then you'll tell them where to find her. Tell them what she looks like. Tell them where she'll be and when. That's all you need to do. And they'll do the rest," he explained. "They'll find her and they'll take her with them. And they'll do everything they can to drive the evil from her. They'll do what they can to break the spell she's placed on your master."
She looked as if she didn't believe him. "That is all I need to do? Call a number and tell them where to find her?"
"That's all," he promised. "I swear to you that they'll deal with her for you. You won't have to get your hands dirty. You won't have to lie to your master if he ever asks you what you did. Because you'll have done nothing. And, in return for my help, you'll get me out of here. You'll help me escape this place."
"What makes you think I can help you escape?" she asked, staring at him intently. As if she expected to find the lie in his words simply by looking at him.
"No one here pays you any attention, do they? They only care about your master and his whore. They'll never notice if you help me escape. And you needn't be involved directly. All you need do is forget to lock the door one morning before the sun rises. A simple accident. A mistake anyone can make. No one will ever know you helped me anymore than they'll know that I helped you."
"You make is sound so simple," she replied quietly.
"It is. So very simple. Do this one thing and you'll have everything you desire. The whore will be gone and your master will be yours."
"How do I know you are not lying to me simply to get me to help you escape?"
"I gave you a way to get rid of your rival. And only asked that you help me leave here if it works. Not before. Just if. If it doesn't work, if nothing comes of this, then you don't have to let me go. I'll take it as a sign from God that I'm meant to stay here and save souls some other way." He made sure to keep his voice meek and mild. He wanted to ensure she had no reason to doubt him. Because his life depended upon her faith in him.
She frowned at him, but she didn't move. He took it as a sign that she wanted to believe him more than anything. So he remained silent. Waited her out while she stared. And he saw it finally when she came to her decision. It was in the way her shoulders relaxed. So minutely. He almost missed that. "Very well. I will do as you ask. I will visit this Franklin person. And I will watch the whore until she makes a mistake. Once I am assured that the spell on my master is removed, I will help you find your way free of this place. But do not think to cross me, mortal. I have been alive for many long years. I know a few things about inflicting pain. You will wish you were dead before I finish with you."
"Only fair," he agreed, doing his best to keep the fear from his voice. She was a creature who thrived on fear. He wasn't going to give her that power over him. He lifted one hand. "I swear to God that my only desire is to help you. I can see how much you love your master. How much this is tearing you up inside. I only want to help."
She continued to stare, to size him up and possibly seek out any lie he might be telling. He waited as patiently and as calmly as he could. Ultimately, it had to be her choice. She had to make the decision. And he could do nothing but wait and hope.
"Do not fail me, mortal. You will not like the consequences," she said. Then she was gone and he was alone in his cell, heart slamming against his ribcage as he considered how close he'd come to possibly dying. He'd sworn he had no fear of dying for his God, knowing that he was righteous in his acts and his beliefs. But that didn't mean he wanted to die now. Not when there were still things he needed to accomplish. Not when there were things he needed to show to people.
Limbs weak with relief, he sank down onto his cot and turned his eyes heavenward. "Please, God," he whispered, voice barely making a sound in the silent room. "Please. Let this work. Let it work so that I can show him that I still believe. Please."
~*~*~*~*~
The room was too goddamn big to keep a proper eye out for trouble. Even with his back against a wall, it was damned hard to keep track of where people were. Hell, he could barely see his target with all the bodies milling around. Too many people. Too much space to cover. He didn't like it. Not one bit.
Frowning, he decided it was time to move. Staying in place didn't really help him do his job. And he really did need to locate his target. Why the hell he wasn't at her side was beyond him. Fuck social obligations. Until he dealt with the threats being leveled against her, he'd like to just keep her locked away.
Aedan's reaction to such a move brought a brief smile to his face. He could well imagine what would happen if he tried to lock her up somewhere. She'd threaten his life. And probably his testicles. The girl did have spirit. He actually enjoyed her shows of spine. She made things infinitely more interesting for him. He certainly didn't want to think what the world would be like without her. God damn Anita for putting Aedan in the position she had.
Edward sighed and tried to work his way between a couple of groups of business men who were measuring their money clips while the women with them stood by and rolled their eyes and made conversation about how hard it was to find good help these days. Naturally no one paid him any attention, which was just as well. If anyone bothered to look at his face, they'd realize that he really didn't belong at this function. Put an expensive, custom tailored tuxedo on him and it was automatically assumed that he belonged there. It was amazing how unobservant people could actually be.
He happened upon her friends, clustered together and talking quietly amongst themselves. He found it surprising that all of them had ended up at this gala event, though he supposed he could understand how such a thing had happened. Minette was part of Jean Claude's triumvirate, the third part of his power. It made sense she'd be there. And, seeing as she was involved with Micah, who was head of the coalition, she had an in on that front, too. It was Micah's position that had seen him invited, because the core values of the coalition ran parallel to those of the MarSin Foundation. Top that off with the fact that Micah and Minette controlled the pard...
Isis and Damian were Rex and Regina. As leaders of the pride, their presence made sense. Asher was a businessman with ties to the community. Naturally, he'd bring Janika with him. The two of them had been dating for some time. Jason and Rhiannon were there to represent the pack. Richard was still not out about the fact that he was a werewolf, so showing up at this party as Ulfric would have done him no favors. Jason sort of made sense, since he often played snack to Jean Claude. And Rhiannon... She was the pack's vargamor. So, they all made sense. All except for Nathaniel, who seemed to be glued to Rhiannon's side. Edward's best guess there was that she hadn't wanted to come without him.
The women had been left mostly by themselves, only Nathaniel and Jason left to keep them company. No doubt the other three had gotten caught up talking to other guests about things considered to be manly interests. Jason happened to glance up at him as he passed by and nodded his head, acknowledging Edward's presence. Edward returned the nod and kept going, catching brief snippets of conversation here and there.
"... is having an affair with his maid. Can you believe it?"
"Does she know?"
"She does. And if I were her, I'd have already thrown his cheating ass out because..."
Edward bit back the sigh that came at that. It must be terrible to have nothing better to do with your life than gossip about a friend's personal troubles. He pushed that one aside and continued on, looking for faces he knew. He passed another group of gossipers.
"He's loaded, of course. I told my daughter she couldn't do better than that. But she insisted I was wrong and ran off with a musician."
"The nerve. Did you disown her?"
If the girl was lucky, the woman had disowned her. He shook his head at the stupidity of it all and kept working his way through the crowd. There were worse things in the world than running off with a musician. Like maybe falling in love with a vampire. He caught sight of Asher in the midst of a group of what was likely businessmen. He was speaking animatedly, his hands making gestures to accompany his words. The men around him seemed to be listening intently to what he had to say. Edward wondered what kind of business advice Asher could give them. The thought was fleeting, though, because he'd finally laid eyes on his target.
Aedan stood next to Jean Claude, who was talking with a pair of tuxedoed men who seemed to not even realize there was a woman there. The two of them were still some distance away, more than a dozen feet. But even from where he stood, Edward could tell Aedan was bored. An event like this was very much not something she was into and he was relatively sure she was only there because it was expected of her. She had her hands clasped together before her, an empty smile plastered onto her face. Jean Claude had one hand resting on her back, either a way of keeping her there and making sure one and all knew she was his and his alone. Edward wouldn't be surprised if it was both.
"She looks... plain. Surely he could do better than that," a soft voice said close by. Edward found himself seeking out the owner of the voice, because something in the way she'd sneered the words had caught his attention. He found a pair of young women, probably in their mid to late twenties, staring openly at Jean Claude. And at Aedan.
"She has to have something going for her. I heard her talking to Aaron earlier and she said she was his human servant." This came from the other woman, who seemed less inclined to be catty than her friend.
"His previous human servant hasn't even been dead that long. She moved awfully fast," the first girl said. Edward heard jealousy and envy in her voice.
"I don't know, Beth. I can't imagine he'd take another human servant unless there was something special about her." It was obvious the second girl didn't seem to find the reasons important. In fact, she acted as if she didn't want to be involved in the conversation. The first girl turned to look at her friend.
"Oh, I'm sure there's something special about her. Something like blackmail." Beth was about to tell a secret. He could hear it in the tone of her voice. Edward moved forward so that he could be party to this conversation. He had to admit that he was curious and this whole evening had been boring as hell. A little entertainment was definitely in order. "I heard from a very reliable source that she had something to do with his previous human servant's death."
The second girl stared a moment, frowning as she worked through that statement. "Are you saying she helped murder Anita Blake?" There was no denying the fact that girl number two was extremely skeptical about that.
"Its what I heard," Beth returned, shrugging one shoulder in what was meant to be a negligent manner.
"And does he know that?" Girl number two let all of her doubt show in her voice.
"If Aedan killed Anita and Jean Claude knew, she wouldn't be here on his arm. And she wouldn't be his human servant. He'd have killed her himself," Edward informed them. Both girls turned to stare at him. Beth looked annoyed at having been overheard. The second girl looked guilty at having been caught.
"Do you mind?" Beth demanded haughtily, doing her best to look down her nose at him. Edward offered her a cold smile. "This is a private conversation. You weren't invited."
"Be glad I'm the one who overheard you and not Aedan. I find you amusing. She'd find you annoying. And she'd probably punch you in your perfectly sculpted nose. No doubt your plastic surgeon wouldn't be happy at having to fix his work. I suggest you forget your previous topic of conversation and stick to something safe. Like Daddy's money or who the hottest designer is."
"Asshole!" Beth spat. Edward let the expression slip from his face so that Beth found herself staring at Death. The girl visibly recoiled and took a few steps back. Satisfied that he'd put Beth in her place, he sketched a mock bow to the two of them.
"Good evening, ladies," he said as he rose, then turned to where he'd last seen Aedan with Jean Claude. Only to find that she'd slipped away when he'd been preoccupied and now he had to start hunting her down all over again. Damn it.
How the hell was he supposed to protect her if he couldn't find her?
~*~*~*~*~
Aedan put a hand on Jean Claude's arm to attract his attention. He and a gentleman who had introduced himself as the head of some commission were deep in discussion about the vampire district and whether or not it could do more for St. Louis' tourist industry. At the touch of her hand, Jean Claude glanced her way. It meant the other man did, too. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to use the ladies' room."
"Of course, ma mie," Jean Claude replied with a touch of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She gave her own smile to him and to his conversation companion and turned to head across the room. She didn't have the heart to tell Jean Claude, or Aaron Singleton, that she was bored off her ass. Of course she'd had the chance to catch up with her friends over the course of the evening but because of who they were and what they represented, they all had to mingle and be seen. She hadn't had time to herself since they'd gotten out of the limo.
Crowds like this weren't her thing. Too many bodies in too little space. It didn't matter how big the room was, it was still too small. She'd never liked being in crowds like this. It was the only time she felt claustrophobic. She passed people by with a murmured 'excuse me' to be polite. Most people didn't even acknowledge her as she went by. And it seemed like there were more people now than there had been when they'd first arrived. So cutting across the floor toward the spot on the wall where she'd seen people disappear was harder than she liked.
When she finally reached what turned out to be a doorway, she was honestly ready to leave the whole mess behind. But the gala was still in full swing and she got the feeling that Jean Claude didn't feel it was time to leave just yet. She was just going to have to tough it out for a little while longer.
The doorway opened up into a short hallway, decorated with rich, mellow wooden paneling and a pair of gilt tables that each supported a giant vase of fragrant blossoms. The mingled scents of various flowers was almost soothing after the cloying swirl of perfumes and colognes of Aaron's guests. Aedan took a deep breath as she passed by, then let herself into the ladies' room.
There was no one there beyond the woman who worked as the attendant. It was apparently one of those fancy bathrooms where someone was there to offer you a towel and anything else you might need. It was the first time Aedan had ever seen a bathroom attendant and, for a moment, she felt a touch self-conscious about having a stranger in the bathroom while using it. Then she realized it wouldn't be any different than any other public restroom and offered the woman a smile in greeting. Then she slipped into a stall to attend to her business.
It was quiet in the ladies' room, all the noise from the party outside cut off by what must have been well insulated walls and a bit of distance. There was some soft, instrumental music playing through hidden speakers to keep it from being absolutely silent in the public restroom, but it was quiet enough to allow her time to study her own thoughts. Which was a first for the night, despite the fact that the foundation had hired a lovely string quartet to play. The press of too many people negated the calming effect of the strings as they played light, bright classical music.
Maneuvering the heavy material of her dress around was almost more than Aedan could handle. It took far longer than she liked to situate everything so she could use the toilet and not end up embarrassing herself. Which meant she had to fight not to wet herself as she wrestled with skirts and underwear. A person had to be a fucking witch or some shit to wear something like the dress she had on and not get it dirty while trying to use the toilet. So it took some five minutes or more to accomplish her task.
When she stepped out of the stall, it was to find that the attendant was no where in attendance. Which she found odd. Maybe it was the woman's break? Shaking her head, Aedan headed to the sink to wash her hands and check that her face was still properly made up. Not that she could do anything about it if it wasn't. She didn't have any make up with to touch up any smears or smudges. She wet and lathered up her hands, then looked up at the mirror. The reflective surface told her that she was as impeccably made up as she had been when they'd left the Circus. And it told her something else. There were feet showing under the door to one of the stalls. Feet that were kind of tilted sideways and wearing a pair of black pumps that were kind of plain.
She hadn't heard anyone else come in. And she was fairly certain no one at the gala would be wearing what amounted to a twenty dollar pair of shoes from Payless Shoes. Shit. This didn't bode well. Not at all.
Body and mind on high alert, Aedan made her way slowly across the room to the closed stall door. Her eyes shifted back and forth, seeking out any signs of danger. There was nothing to see, which only made her heart hammer harder in her chest. When she got close enough, she peered through the crack between the stall's wall and its door. She could see the attendant, or part of her, settled on the toilet at an angle. There was a soft pattering sound coming from behind the door, but before Aedan could discover what it was, the door slammed open and a woman with dark hair and an extremely expensive dress surged out of the stall at her.
She caught the woman's wrist as an already bloodied knife arced down toward her chest, the blade only inches from its target before Aedan twisted into the woman and put her back to her attacker's chest so that she could bend the woman's wrist into an unnatural angle. The woman didn't make any noise, despite the loud crack her wrist gave as the force Aedan applied to it made it bend the way it wasn't supposed to. The knife clattered to the floor from her attacker's useless hand, already forgotten. The woman changed tactics and grabbed her hair with her free hand, shoved her forward.
The marble of the sink area was hard and it felt like her skull split when the two met. Stars swirled and it took Aedan longer than she liked to regain her senses. By the time she did, it was to find that the woman had looped a thin circle of metal around her throat. With her one good hand, she pulled the loop tight until the garrote cut off Aedan's oxygen and sent panic flooding her brain. The woman then put her other arm around Aedan and pulled her close, making it easier for her to control her victim.
They were facing the mirror, so Aedan could see the woman's face. The determined look she wore. The burning hatred in her eyes. It was the face of someone who was working with the secret, Anita Blake and Aedan Kinkade hating cabal. "My master will see you dead, necromancer," the woman whispered in her ear. The huskiness of the woman's voice made it more an intimate caress than a threat.
"Fuck you," Aedan gasped as she raised her leg. Then she stomped down hard on the woman's foot and grinned in triumph when her heel speared through the woman's flesh. Thank the gods she'd chosen to wear custom made heels to this damned event. The garrote loosened fractionally as the pain hit the woman's system. She put an elbow into her attacker's stomach and shoved, gagging as the garrote tightened briefly before sliding from the woman's grasp when she tumbled backward. One hand reached up for the hair sticks and pulled them free of the bun, held them like the weapons they were meant to be.
The woman staggered and lost her balance, one hand and one foot absolutely useless. She went down hard, tried to pull herself away as Aedan advanced on her. Rage threaded through Aedan, pushed aside the pain that pounded in her skull and at her throat. She nearly threw herself down on the woman so that she straddled the bitch's waist. One hand pinned her to the floor by the throat, the other lifted over her head and still clutched around the hair sticks. The woman's gaze flicked to them and saw the silver that had been wrapped around them. Saw the sharp, pointed ends that were aimed at the woman's chest. "I hope your master is linked to you right now, that he's monitoring this so he sees first hand that I'm harder than shit to kill."
The woman's eyes widened as she saw Aedan's intent shining in her own. Then the fear was gone and replaced with something old and wrong. The woman's master, no doubt. "You are not invincible, necromancer. This human is weak. Kill her and I will only come after you again. This time with someone stronger. I will have your heart in my hand." There was a low, almost masculine edge to the words that didn't quite mesh with the voice speaking them.
"Go ahead and try. I'll kill you, too," she told the woman's master in a tone that held no bragging or boasting. It was calm and steady and even. And full of fact.
"I wish you luck, necromancer," the voice told her, then it was gone and she was once more staring into the woman's eyes. Which widened again and filled with panic and terror. And the understanding that her master would not save her.
"And fuck your master," she told the woman before bringing her arm down. The sticks pierced through skin and muscle until they found their way into the woman's heart. She felt the surge of power at the same time, felt the woman's good hand find her throat and squeeze. Hard. There was strength behind that hand, strength that didn't belong to a human. And certainly not a human that had just been stabbed through the heart. She clawed at the hand, tried to pull it away. But the vice like grip it had on her throat wouldn't give. The woman's fingers flexed down, digging into her skin in an effort to crush her windpipe.
Black spots were dancing across her vision when her hand found the sticks and pulled one free. When she lifted her arm one more time and brought it down, barely capable of seeing her target. She was nearly blind when she felt something warm and wet splash up against her face and neck, when she heard the silver tip grate against something hard and unforgiving.
Then the door burst open behind her and a gunshot filled the confined space. Her ears rang and her heart pounded and she felt more warmth spray her flesh and she prayed that her death was quick.
Tags:
- author: ladydeathfaerie,
- character: aedan kinkade,
- character: asher,
- character: damian,
- character: edward,
- character: isis moonrip,
- character: janika odon,
- character: jason schuyler,
- character: jean claude,
- character: micah callahan,
- character: minette poulson,
- character: nathaniel graison,
- character: rhiannon fitzpatrick,
- universe: anita blake
(no subject)
Date: 2018-05-25 05:10 pm (UTC)First of all...Edward and Beth? ROFLMAO...freaking LOVE it! That bit had me laughing so hard. :-)
Second, NOONE seems to be loving this gala...and EVERYONE seems to be wanting to cut out early and have some private dessert..loved it! Love the teasing little bits. Of course the clothing and scenery were gorgeously described. But yeah - I can't blame any of the gang for being less than enamored of the pompous people and whatnot. Damn stuffy black tie galas anyway. :)
And Aedan...well, that girl's monotony was broken wasn't it? Damn! That woman has the worst luck...
You and your f'ing cliffhangers! ;)
And yes...great chapter!
(no subject)
Date: 2018-05-26 03:49 am (UTC)its hard to enjoy something when you're there to be on display. so, yeah. most everyone is bored enough to want to go home. can't say that i blame any of them.
i'm sure Aedan will catch a break. at some point. i mean, i don't know when. but it has to happen eventually. right?
yes. its a lovely evil cliffie. i do so love them.
thanks for reading and i'm so glad you enjoyed, bb.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-05-26 09:43 pm (UTC)Whatever Nathaniel whispered to Rhia must have been good, because it made me shudder for her. lol And Yay! for managing to come up with a believable reason for Rhiannon (and everyone else) to be there. I'm going to go dream about getting to the good part of the evening now.
Oh, wait. Right. There was more....
Edward putting Beth in her place was priceless. OMG. I fucking loved it!
And ... shit ... Aedan should not be left alone. Ever. Not that she can't take care of herself. I knew those heels and the hair sticks were weapons! I fucking knew it! But, no. Just because maybe then she wouldn't have had to get blood all over herself.
And dammit. That better be Edward coming (a bit late) to the rescue and not some other jerk trying to take her out. *mutters about evil cliffies*
(no subject)
Date: 2018-05-26 11:08 pm (UTC)damn. it must have been good. so glad to know that i can do that without even actually having him say anything. i bet the good part is really, really good.
uh, yeah. sorry. there was more. :)
i absolutely love Edward just kind of randomly picking up people's gossip and being all blasé about it. and no one noticing because... Edward. unremarkable. you know. and then he catches the jealousy and just can't help himself. i love that he made sure Beth knew she had a snowball's chance in hell.
yeah. i'm starting to agree with you. she shouldn't be alone. bad things happen when people leave her alone. and after the last event she went to, there was no way she was going to another without some kind of weaponry. even if it isn't her Glock or an axe or some kind of broad sword or a flame thrower. i will admit. the girl is hard on dress clothes. like, really hard on them. its a shame, too, because that dress is super beautiful in my head.
i know its an evil cliffie. i know! but you'll find out sooner or later. cos the next chapter is already started.
glad you enjoyed it, bb. and thanks for reading