Shadowed Dreams and Midnight Musings

Untitled (chapt. 5) - Interlude

Thu, 16 Oct 2008 06:36:57 GMT

She awoke slowly, biting her bottom lip at the stinging ache of overabused flesh and muscle. The room was dark, and for a moment, she didn’t remember where she was. Then it all came flooding back: Jack, her failed assignment, his offer of a safe haven. She tried to sit up, but felt herself prevented by a weight across her middle. Jack's arm.

She lay there, her breathing shallow, trying to determine if he was still awake or not. Reassured by the slow, steady sound of him beside her, she eased his arm off of her waist and slowly inched her way off the bed. Her feet didn’t make a sound as she stood up, thick pile of the room's carpet ensuring that her tiny steps were silent. She didn’t go far, just enough to crouch down, her hand sweeping over the floor, searching for the remnants of her clothes.

The thought flashed through her mind that with him sleeping, she could probably find a way out of the house before he was able to catch her again. Even if opening the heavy front door set off Jack's alarms, she was sure she could be through the door before he got all the way downstairs. Her hand brushed over soft material, something heaped on the floor. His shirt. She picked it up, thumb rubbing the fine material for a moment. His scent still clung to the soft fibers.

He'd shocked her earlier with his offer of sanctuary. She'd been playing along with his sadistic streak as a way to buy herself more time; she'd had no doubt that he fully intended to keep his promise and kill her when he returned from his job. The beating he gave her was nothing more than a prelude to his evening's entertainment. That idea had been reinforced by his insistence that she undress him. However, after his offer and her acceptance, he's seemed to change his mind. Instead of forcing her to fellate him or worse, he had simply pulled her back onto the bed, holding her against the warm length of his body until she relaxed.

He hadn't been shy about his nudity or her own, stroking his calloused hands over her skin as though learning her through his touch. He had encouraged her to do the same, but his touch never turned sexual, never demanded anything of her. Confused, aching, and not quite sure this was real, she had fallen asleep while he lay there holding her.

It was those same aches that awoke her now. Realistically, she knew what awaited her if she left here and went home. She would be made to pay for her failure and then either killed or worse, shipped off to some of her employer's "associates". She remembered that happening to another girl once. Stories of the torture and degradation she had endured had run rampant from her employer, using the poor girl's fate as a tool to keep Paige in line. No. She had accepted Jack's offer, and she was going to stay. Still holding his shirt, she turned and went into the adjoining bathroom.

The sound of pleasure she made as she stepped under the hot shower was almost animalistic in it's purity. It soothed her aches, washed away the scent of fear and drugs that permeated her skin, rinsed clean the last of her reservations about this change in her life. When the water finally began to run cool, she stepped out, drying herself with Jack's thick towels, then shrugging into his shirt.

She moved quietly back to the bed, inching herself under the duvet and wrapping Jack's arm back around herself. Funny how the same arm that had delivered such punishing blows hours earlier now carried a sense of security for her. Within minutes, she was asleep again.

The man lay there for a long time in the dark. He had awoken as soon as she left the bed, and part of him had tensed, waiting for her to flee the room and try to escape the house. When she simply went into the shower instead, he'd relaxed against the soft sheets. He wasn’t sure why he offered her a second chance, he had never done that before for any of his victims. Still, there was something about her. Something in the way she had begged him not to hurt her, but never broke enough to give up the information he wanted. A quiet fire within her that so far had not been doused. Intriguing.

He listened to her breath for a while, then followed her back into slumber.

Untitled (chapt. 4)

Sun, 12 Oct 2008 14:03:09 GMT

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

Her entire body clenched when the switch came biting down, but she managed not to move from where she lay, exercising supreme willpower in not jumping or curling away from the white-hot pain. White teeth bit into her lower lip hard enough to draw a bead of blood, hard enough to keep her from making any sound. The welt rose almost instantly, red against her skin, a soft, burning rise in the flesh just below the curve of her buttocks.

He laid forth with the switch, gauging her reaction as his hand brought downt he obsidian tool in a measured rhythm. SMACK! Her thigh went freshly pink. SMACK! Her lower back was graced with a vertical mark. SMACK! He watched her face as the wood met flesh again and again. The pain bit deeper, and he was surprised at the controlled breathing she used to control her responses. Such a catch.

His free hand dove into her hair, fingers pressing and kneading her scalp. His fingers were strong, measured in pressure and location, expertly hitting the pressure points where jaw muscle meets temple, keeping her from grinding her teeth too tightly, providing a gentle counterpoint to the pain filling her body.

She responded by sinking deeper into herself, the pain from each new strike radiating, spreading. The heat colored her skin, bringing beads of sweat to her forehead, along her neckline, across her back. Her nails dug deep, pressing deep half-moons into her cut palms and her lower lip was knicked in several more places, tiny wells giving her mouth a shimmering crimson gloss in the light from the bathroom.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Her asscheeks were emblazoned with newly pinkened marks. His free hand continued its massaging, stroking her silken mane even as he punished her body, painting his own new artwork upon the canvas of her flesh.

Her head turned into his touch, instinctively seeking the soothing feel of his hand, the strokes across her already bruised lower back getting the most response from her. Silent tears wet her cheeks as that pain radiated, not only through her back, but circling her ribs and made it difficult for her to breathe, the hitch evident in the way her chest jerked with each breath. To her credit, no sound passed her lips, save the soft hiss of each exhalation.

"Paige." His voice was oddly gentle as he stopped the motion of the black reed-like ruler. "So studied. Where is that voice of yours that was so willing to spit venom before?" He tossed the heavy switch across onto the wide chair that he's sat in to watch her sleep. His left hand moved to caress the welted skin, ever so softly brushing over the marks he'd left behind before dipping back and between her asscheeks, across the fabric barely covering her sex. His right hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing away her latest tear. His eyes searched her face, looking for whatever she had hidden behind the doors she'd closed when she realized his intentions. Slightly unsettled by the emotions visible in her eyes, he released her face, his right hand moving instead to unbuckle his belt.

Her eyes had opened as he said her name, their depths hazy and languid. The silent mantras within her head acted almost as a form of self-hypnosis. She smiled at him, tongue flicking over her bottom lip, tasting copper. Her eyes went to his belt, the hand releasing the buckle.

"Jack." Her voice was soft, velvety, holding no hint of the pain in her body, further evidence of just how far she'd learned to retreat. "Untie my hands, Jack." She purred the words, hips shifting against his left hand, a liquid heat under his fingers that had nothing to do with the burning welts as those languid eyes moved back to his, blinking away the silvery tears still caught in her lashes.

His eyes held hers, judging, before he reached to the headboard. With a flick of the wrist, a tug at a knot and a loop, she felt the release of the tension in the cords binding her wrists. He kept his hand between her thighs, cupping, pressing as his right hand moved back to the unbuckled belt, beginning to slowly pull it forth out of the many loops circling his waist.

She exhaled softly as her wrists were released. She shivered, pins and needles as the blood flow to her hands resumed without the pressure of the ties and she brought her arms together under her cheek, crossing her forearms under her forehead, fingers softly rubbing where the ties had left their mark. Those soft, dark eyes followed the progress of the belt, tip of a pink tongue unconsciously licking her lower lip again. Then, seemingly remembering herself, her eyes shifted back to his gaze. Her velvety little whisper unchanged, she murmured a quiet "Thank you", the Sir at the end of the sentence unspoken but clearly felt in her tone.

The belt half off, his left hand left her flesh, taking up the silver buckled end of the leather and holding it out to her. His eyes locked on her, watching. His breathing remained slow, chest rising beneath the white cotton, a stark contrast against the shadowed wall. As she reached for the buckle, his eyes left her face, moving to the monitor.

She reached tentatively, fingertips stroking the silver buckle before she pulled herself to her knees, a soft hiss the only indication of the pain across her back and buttocks. She was aware of his shift in focus to the monitor and so she kept her eyes on him, not the screen as she moved closer. One hand reached for him, resting lightly against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath through his shirt, then slid slowly down, open palmed along his torso to the undone belt. Soft fingers closed around it, taking her time, each movement thought out and graceful. She drew it from the remaining belt loops until it lay in her hands. She raised the silvery buckle to her lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the cold metal before holding it out to you, her eyes never once leaving his face.

He watched her on the screen as though that were the only place she existed. He watched her coming to him on her knees, wanting so badly so smile, to show the pleasure seeping into his eyes, but he would not let his lips betray his emotions. Her subtle movements, the taking of the buckle, her soft kiss…so perfect. The slow, practiced removal of the black leather belt, then the way she offered it…beautiful. He took it from her, folding it in two halves and letting it fall, handing heavily in one hand.

"Good girl, Paige. Now, unbuckle the rest of me. Leave nothing that restrains my flesh untouched. Leave me naked to the world upon completion."

A slight smile curved her lips at his words, familiar territory for her now. A subtle confidence showed in her movements as she moved closer, close enough that the soft scent of her skin and the slightly salty scent of her tears teased at his senses. Dark hair brushed against his jaw as she leaned in, her cheek resting against his shoulder as her hands luxuriated across his chest, gentle heat of her palms warming his flesh through the shirt as she moved them to the row of buttons.

She slipped each one free slowly, unveiling the warm male flesh beneath the white shirt. As it parted, her lips followed, trailing delicate kisses along the expanse of skin. Upon reaching his waist, she tugged the hem of the shirt free, undoing the last button so it hung freely from his shoulders. She sat back on her heels a bit, eyes drinking in what she was revealing, then she slid the shirt from his arms, not letting it fall to the floor, but laying it to one side on the big bed. Her hands paused at his waist, thumb on the button of his pants, her eyes searching his.

Shirtless, jaw line set with fierce concentration at the soft exploration of his torso, Jack found himself wondering what thoughts flitted through her mind as she touched his freshly exposed flesh. Unseen before in the chaos of his interrogation, there was a collection of old scars, mostly knife wounds. He nodded as her eyes sought out his, silently telling her to continue.

At the nod, her eyes went back to his chest, her fingertips tracing the evidence of his chosen trade. Hands swept softly over his skin, then returned to his pants, the button and zipper coming undone almost too easily, the dark material giving way under her touch. She slid her hands under the waistband, open palms caressing him as she moved them down, easing them from his hips, thumbs sliding over the edge of is boxers and taking them with the pants in one smooth movement. She pushed them as far down as she can reach, but realized she couldn’t take them to the floor nor remove your shoes without leaving the bed, and she wasn’t sure if he would mistake that for an attempt to run. Her eyes remained downcast, teeth worrying at her already bitten lip as she waited to see his reaction.

He shifted slightly, the weight of the pants easily taking them the rest of the way to the floor, gravity pooling the black material of both layers around his ankles. "Every knot on the carpet, Paige. The bed is no prison." His voice was calm, but with an edge to it. His manhood hung before her face, just shy of seven inches in the state between flaccid and erect, that perfect state men strive for in locker rooms, not soft and hiding when cold, and not erect, showing some inner homoerotic tendency, but long and thick and manly. His left hand still held the folded black belt, but his right stretched out to her, indicating she was to take the floor and finish the job.

She nodded silently, pausing to nuzzle her cheek against his outstretched hand for a moment before sliding to the floor. Every move she made showed that someone had spent a lot of time training her. She moved off the side of the bed headfirst, pausing a split second with her body outstretched, hands holding her weight, her knees on the bed to keep her steady. The slow stretch displayed the lithe expanse of her back and ass and legs, smooth skin broken by the badges of…of whatever her employer had been trying to convey. He watched as she crawled all the way to the floor, her eyes closing as she rubbed her cheek against his thigh, for all the world like a big cat.

Her dark eyes flicked up, holding his gaze as she reached for his cock, tracing her nails down his thigh along side it, so close, but not touching. Her attention shifted back to her task, and she guided his feet from the shoes, socks following. The puddled pants and boxers joined his shirt on the end of the bed. Finished, she remained there on the floor, graceful, silent, awaiting his next command like a perfect breathing doll.

"What are you trained for, Paige? What is your payment at the end of a task completed?" The question was almost more of a statement, left hanging in the air as his hand reached out to her mane, fingers spread, diving once again into the thick silk and running back towards the soft, sensitive curve at the back of her head. Holding her head a moment, he was tempted to guide her, but made himself remain still, wanting to see if the choice would be made by her first. His cock twitched with every beat of his strong heart, responding to the trace of nails so close, yet so far. "The reward, Paige."

She tilted her head up, heavy lids half veiling her eyes as she looked at him. "My reward? I continue breathing."

Her soft words fell into the silence of the room. She broke her gaze, her eyes moving down his body again, pausing to watch the pulse making his cock move. That same long-nailed hand reached for him, this time tracing those nails lightly down the length of his shaft before her voice whispered again. "You've seen the evidence of my failures."

"You've survived this failure so far, and I don't intend to let you back into the world you knew before without remaking you." His shaft responded to her caress, jumping at the touch against the most sensitive underside. A hand moved under her chin, steely-blue eyes on her, searching for the key to understanding her within her eyes. "You can rise, run to the street battered and broken, back to the old masters, Paige…or…stay here and be remade in the sin of my house. If you choose this," his free hand reached down to grasp his own cock and bring it's quickly straightening length before her eyes, "then you choose it freely and without threat." The blue in his eyes shifted again, darkening, the easy glance replaced by the glimmer of a knife's edge.

She listened, completely thrown by his offer and not quite sure she had heard him correctly. She had fully expected him to hold to his promise earlier of a bloody death at his hands, and she had simply been playing along to buy herself whatever time she could. After her failure with the surveillance and her idiocy in being caught by him, she knew it was simply a matter of choice: death at his hands per his promise or death upon her return, one too many failures for her employers to accept.

He could see the confusion in her eyes, the conflict between her old, ingrained ways and the bloom of hope, however faint. For just a moment, he thought he saw the real Paige, the woman under the mask, and in that moment he knew her choice was made.

She nodded once, her eyes clear. "I choose your house, if you will have me."

"I will. And I shall teach you, so that this will never happen to you again." The softer blue returned to his eyes, but they still remained hard, his gaze refined, watching her, patient and hungry.

Untitled (chapt. 3)

Sun, 12 Oct 2008 09:57:19 GMT

Chapter 1
Chapter 2

The room was dark when she awoke, if that slow, swirling transition from nothing to this could be called awakening. Heavy eyes opened under reluctant eyelids, a tingling in her arms reminding her of their tied position. Subtle shifting of her legs let her know that her ankles were loose now, but they felt like led. Her thigh hurt, the burns blistered, marking her skin. It came back to her in a flash - her assignment, the ruse to get inside. Getting caught. She held still, keeping her breathing slow and even, buying time in case he was watching her, willing her body to shake off the remnants of that vile injection.

He had gone and returned. He was a practiced and steady hand, a patient and perfect professional. Every route had been studied before, every nuance of the new contract seen a hundred times in the marks he had taken down all over the world. A switch in his mind had clicked over the minute he'd left her sleeping. He became the machine…the hunter…the killer. The Demon's Head.

He had returned, and every thought on the way back home in the back of the glossy black Lincoln was of her flesh. The soft golden color going pink, the cries, the pleading. He'd let the inner drug course through his veins, that unholy adrenaline, the meth of pain and desire that was a victim's last wishes, the glimpse of it he had seen in her eyes. He would break that in her, then go another level deeper.

He sat now, watching her. The room was quiet and dark, the only light a small circular pattern of candlelight from somewhere deep within the bathroom, spilling onto the thick carpet of the master suite.

The soft light from the candles finally penetrated her consciousness, and she knew he had to be there somewhere. She tried to speak, but her mouth was too dry. She tried again, swallowing a few times in an effort to wet her lips.

"J-jack?" The tiny whisper was rough, felt as much as heard in the quiet room. She moved slowly on the bed, testing the limits of her ties as she tried to gather herself, legs tucking up close to her body as she twisted, trying to get to her knees.

He remained quiet, his breathing extremely slow and shallow, reveling in her transition from dream to waking reality. He watched her legs, the bindings snaking across the top of the soft bed cover, his fingers folded together over his lap, his torso clad in a crisply pressed, white button-down shirt, his legs covered in expensive tailored black dress pants, a silver-buckled belt, personally crafted shoes, a shadow in black on white. Such a sharp contrast to the woman on the bed, the creamy gold of her exposed skin, the faint discoloration of bruises decorating her back and legs, tiny scraps of silky material barely preserving her modesty. He inhaled deeply, catching a faint trace of her scent, and waited.

She rolled onto her side, finally getting her knees under herself enough to try kneeling. The bound wrists didn’t help, but she managed to pull herself up, shaking her head to clear it a bit, her eyes instantly drawn to where he sat watching. Even in the dim room, he had a presence she couldn’t ignore.

She took in the little details, the contrast of shirt and pants to her own state, the glint of candlelight on his buckle, and part of her mind reluctantly admitted that he was a very good looking man. She said nothing to him, however, simply watching him and waiting for whatever he had planned next.

"Kneeling is a good position for you, Paige." His lips shifted to a lopsided smirk as her eyes met his. Large hands gripped the arms of the deep chair, lifting his powerful frame. Those same hands moved behind his back once he was standing, his eyes pensive, never leaving hers. He watched her wobble on still semi-unsteady knees. "Oh, that little job is done, by the way. Your employer should be having fits and is probably wondering whatever happened to his little skirt." He paced a bit closer, moving just within arms reach of her kneeling form.

At his comment, her whole body deflated, sinking into a heap on the bed. The job is completed, meaning she failed. Her head hung low, dark curls obscuring her face from his sight as she shrank into herself, huddling on the bed, and he almost thought he heard a soft sob. After a long minute, she straightened, lifting her eyes to his again, a dull, dead look in their depths.

"And now what? What are you going to do with me? You might as well let me go, you fulfilled your contract."

He moved to stand immediately before her, his thick fingers coming forward to lift her chin, making sure her eyes didn’t waver from his own. "But whatever would be the fun in that? Plus, you know my name, dear Paige...or whomever you are." He strokes her cheek with his free hand, thumbing a stray lock of hair back fro her forehead over an ear. "Ah, but what a waste in the end."

He released her chin and moved to a large bookshelf built into a wall, the middle a closed set of drawers. He opened one to reveal a quietly black video panel, wide and flat against the wall. With his back to her, he reached for a small remote control set upon a stack of technical audio visual equipment. A button pressed, the video screen blinked to life, a very clear black and white image of her appearing on the screen. The light from the bathroom appeared very bright, behind her and to the left of the bed in the image. "But perhaps not a complete waste."

She watched silently, her eyes widening a bit as the screen came to life. She backed up on the bed and saw her image on the screen do the same. A curious little smile crossed her lips, and as he adjusted the screen, he saw her bound wrist shift, her hand lifting and her middle finger saluting his back. "Home movies, Jack? I never pegged you as the next Tommy Lee."

He turned back to her, rolling up his sleeves. An almost amused grin curved his lips, although nothing amusing was visible in the pools of dark blue that might once have been called eyes if not for the complete lack of humanity within them. "But Pammy…" His lips rose in a sharp, humorless smile then fell once more, "who knows just exactly what you are worth to your employers? This is just a brief catalog of your current condition, just in case." He moved beside her, then turned to the hidden camera and she saw his image on the screen mockingly wave his hand beside her face in a greeting.

She laughed then, the soft shimmer of her voice a dark ribbon in the room. "I told you, I am nothing to them. And how do you intend showing my current condition? Planning to zoom in on the injection mark on my ass?" She backed away from his hand, refusing to meet his eyes now.

"You are alive, breathing, relatively unscathed." He smiled at the camera and reached into his pocket to retrieve the small remote, his thumb pressing a button. The letters REC disappeared from the corner of the screen and he set the remote aside. "Lay down now, let me have a look at those marks on the back of your thighs and lower back." He patted the bed, his movements easy, but his tone demanding compliance.

For a moment she considered resisting, but it had gotten her nowhere with him thus far. She simply obeyed, gingerly laying back down, careful of her wrists as she wriggled onto her stomach. Aside from the burn blisters his candle left, her body bore the marks of a recent beating. New and old bruises colored the skin of her upper thigh, buttocks and back. Someone had worked her over thoroughly, careful not to leave marks that would normally show.

His thick fingers moved over the old bruises, skimmed lightly over the newer ones. His eyes watched her face as his fingertips traced the memories of pain received. He wondered if pleasure had been wrenched forth as well, his eyes drifting to the armoire where several tools had been laid out while she slept. "Quite a rainbow back here, Paige. Anything you'd like to share?"

She glanced over her shoulder, voice monotone. "Like you said, my employer pays well. And has an interesting incentive plan to accomplish each mission." Her eyes flicked, recognizing something in the depths of his cold gaze. "Lovely little taste of the dark, to control someone to that extent, isn't it?"

He lifted an eyebrow at that comment. Her employer? Well, didn’t that add something to the game. "And once again, you contradict and lie to me, Paige. Nothing to them you said just moments ago…nothing."

His wide palm came down extremely hard upon the middle of her bruised arse, making her jump from the sudden impact. "Work like this, it's months of manipulation of female flesh. Hardly nothing." He shook his head, lips frowning deeply at the lie realized. Not every woman could endure this kind of treatment. Knowing the worth of such a creature, her master would pay dearly to have such a wench back. His thoughts spun through what he has seen of her as he moved to the tools laid out on his dresser. Talented. Supple. Pliable, yet with such inner fire. She was definitely valuable to someone.

His fingers moved over the toys he'd chosen earlier, as delicately as they'd traced her bruises. He picked up a thick, black length of wood, about two feet long and double the width of a ruler. A solid, yet flexible piece of lumber.

He could see her watching him over her shoulder, the faint print of his palm rosy on her flesh. The conflict in her eyes was almost laughably readable - she didn’t lie, she truly believed she was nothing to them, just one of many. Her eyes moved from him to the dresser, to the supple wood he had retrieved, and on the screen he could see her close her eyes, her expression carefully going blank. It was almost fascinating to watch her pull into her own mind as she realized he intended to play with her.

Almost. A frown crossed his face as hers went blank, wondering where the edge lay within her. His feet padded across the carpet, barely making a sound. He sat on the upper half of the bed, watching her face as he moved the thing length of black wood slowly in a line from between her shoulder blades downwards, a sinuous line that played across her spine to the edge of her ribcage pressed against the bedcovers and back towards the soft valley just before her ass cheeks. Up and down her cleft he traced, leaning forward just a bit, his height allowing him a good reach down her body without moving too much.

Her body tensed as the wood trailed smoothly over her skin, subtle shifts in her posture telling him what her face didn’t - goosebumps raised in the wake of the rod, her fists closing tightly, almost white-knuckled as the thin instrument caressed over her ass.

He kept himself close to her upper body, where she was still tied, not wanting to risk a kick from her still unbound legs. He ended the exploration with the cane just above her knees, allowing the smooth stick to work back up along her body. He lingered with it over that perfect place on a woman's body where top of thigh meets bottom of buttock, that sweet spot where cherished youthful boyish memories recalled looking up the neighborhood girl's tennis shorts, or the cheerleader's skirt when she went up the stairs to math class ahead of him.

She took in a deep breath as she felt the wood slide over that delicate dip at the top of her thigh. SMACK! He brought the wide black instrument crashing down upon her, squarely where it had been tickling just moments before.

Untitled (chapt. 2)

Sat, 11 Oct 2008 11:30:49 GMT

Chapter 1 here: shadowed-1234.livejournal.com/24610.html

She struggled as he lifted her, squirming and trying to kick her legs to impede his progress up the stairs. Slung facedown over his shoulder, he could feel her face bumping against his back, the wet smear as her blooded lip left its mark, then to his surprise, the blunt pain of her teeth, trying to bite whatever she could reach.

Her efforts were mostly ineffectual, but she did manage to twist and find the right angle, one deeper bite causing him to wince as her teeth dug into muscle. He reacted instantly, twisting his powerful torso and smacking her into the stairwell wall. "Stop fucking around back there, you're giving me a hard-on, Paige, and really, I don’t think you want this to go from business to pleasure now, do you?"

Leaving that thought to linger in her mind, he strode into the master suite and unceremoniously dumped her onto the bed. Moving to the left and right foot posts of his bed, he quickly removed thick black cords and fastened them tightly around her ankles. His eyes were fierce and serious as he worked, something welling up within their depths. Memories of too many bloodied sheets, too many screams, too many gurgled bargains offered.

Closing his eyes, he moved around to the side of the bed and nudged her hard against her ribcage. "Too tight, right?" He withdrew the blackhandled blade from his pocket, flicking the spring free, letting the blade snap open in front of her eyes. "Now, sweetheart, lets try this again. I found the transmitter, audio or tracking or whatever the fuck it was. Who sent you? Who knows about tonight? Answer, and I'll have you back in your apartment cuddling your pooh bear in no time."

Still dizzied by the hard hit into the wall, she offered no resistance as he dumped her onto the bed and tied her down. Even the nudge into her side and the sight of the blade snapping open inches from her eyes barely registered as she fought to regain her equilibrium. Dazed eyes met his for a moment, her voice mumbling softly something about it not being a pooh bear, but a stuffed pig waiting for her at home.

He wondered for a moment if the hit on the stairs was a little too hard this early in the game. He grasped her face forcefully, settling onto the bed beside her, his eyes drilling into her own with a physician's cold stare, trying to gauge the depth of her disorientation. Reaching down with the blade, he sliced through the black plastic bindings and freed her wrists. He kept a firm grasp on her, tugging her up a bit on the bed then knotting another black cord into place around her left wrist.

"Paige, honey, it's time for school. Wake up."

She looked a bit more aware, but not by much as she shifted against the bed, tenatively tugging at the newly bound wrist against the headboard. She surprised him with a brilliant smile, whispering softly, "Thank you, they really were too tight."

Her eyes are focused on him now, and she manages another tiny joke. "And can I please go to school now? I don’t want detention if I am late."

"Ah, so you are back with us." He forces a grin to his lips, his eyes dark blue pools of professional calm. He moved around to the other side of the bed, reaching out and restraining her right wrist, completing the bindings. He sat on the edge of the bed as he tightened the noose around her wrist. The rope is a thick, high-density braid of superb quality, made to restrain and not cut or bruise the flesh unless necessary.

"Paige." He reached out and stroked the slightly pinkening spot where he'd backhanded her. "Whom do you work for?"

She smiled softly, almost tilting her cheek into the caress of his hand. "I can't tell you. They'd kill me."

"Paige." He repeated her name again, running the edge of his thumb over her lips, watching her for any sign of an impending bite. "I will kill you."

She shivered, and met his gaze. Her eyes were dark, but clear now, all haziness from being hit gone. "I work for Dr. Scholl. They are worried you are stealing the secret of that little wooden bump they put in their shoes to alleviate foot pain."

He moved off the bed, not looking at her lying there spread-eagled. His voice was smooth, relaxed as his gaze sweeps over the thickly carpeted floor, the darkened corners of the room, the high ceiling above them. "But I will not just kill you. I will try with every tool I have to get the name out sometime in the next 30 minutes. I will defile your beautiful form so as to take that last moment of pleasure as my own, and then slit your supple throat, watching you, holding your hand as you bleed, sitting there as your life stains my skin, my sheets, my carpet. So many, Paige, so many." He closes his eyes a moment, then moves to a high chest of drawers, opening the top shelf and removing a cruel looking curved pair of scissors.

Her eyes closed tight, as if that could block out his voice. She cautiously tried each binding in turn, tugging wrists and ankles. Nothing. Each was firmly anchored. "I can't tell you what I don’t know."

"Someone gave you the device, lets start there." He brought the scissors to the button of her skirt, the sharp metal separating the fabric into two equal halves, baring her lower body to her flat belly.

She whispered softly, her eyes still tightly closed. "The Demon's Head."

"The Demon's Head?" He rested the cold steel of the surgical scissors on her abdomen, under the material of her shirt. He paused, considering her whispered answer. His eyes trailed down to her legs, the splayed out fabric of her skirt, the spot so hidden by women, so treasured. He wondered if that was the way to push with her.

"Your name, Jack." Her eyes opened. "The Demon's Head. I was told to find the Demon's Head and let them know where you were. Imagine my surprise when you came into the club a few nights back."

"Jack. I told you my name is Jack." Anger flared in his eyes as he sprang onto the bed atop her, scissors pressing into the flesh of her cheek below her left eye. "How the FUCK do you know that other name?!?" He grabbed her shirt with his free hand and balled up the fabric as he pulled her upwards, straining against the semi-taut bindings.

She smiled quietly, eyes flicking to the blade pressed to her cheek then back to his eyes. "Untie me, and we can discuss it. Otherwise…have your way with me and learn nothing."

He pressed the tip of the scissors into her cheek ever so slightly, just enough to cause crimson to appear in one solitary, glorious droplet. "Discuss? We are beyond discussing. Discussing was downstairs, in my den. Up here, it's you talking. It's you in pain. It's you begging for forgiveness, Paige."

He rolled his hips to against hers, pushing himself up off the bed. He returned the scissors to the drawer, then moved through the open doorway into the adjoining bathroom. A moment later, she could hear the rushing of falling water and could see part of his body through the open door as he disrobed, letting his black pant suit fall to the floor, then kicked off his shoes, socks and black silk boxers.

He stood poised and confident in front of the mirror as a soft steam issued from what she assumed was a sink. He glanced at her through the mirror's reflection. "I really don’t want to ruin another good suit." He washed his hands in the sink, taking his time.

She turned her face, watching what she could of him, that single crimson droplet staining her cheek like a bloodied tear. She said nothing, because, really, there were no words left now. Just the waiting, to see what he intended to do with her.

Finished with his washing, he turned the taps from hot to cold, filling the a porcelain wash bowl with cool water. He turned off the spout and returned to the bed, carrying the bowl in both hands. He set the white porcelain beside the bed on a small, curving iron table. He reached onto a low shelf on the table, bringing up a squat jarred candle. He smiles, letting her see the black candle before reaching again, this time for a wooden match.

He struck the match, a gold flame leaping to life and limning her face with the soft light. He watched a moment, the contrast of her creamy skin on the black, disheveled covers, then lights the candle.

"Paige, you were asked to watch me. By whom?"

"I told you, I don’t know." Her eyes tracked the lit match from his hand to the candle to his mouth as he blew it out. "I was simply told to watch and follow."

He brought the squat candle near her forearm, the slack in the cord plenty to allow him to lift her arm a bit, allowing him to bring the candle about six inches below her skin.

"Paige, you know what I want. Information. You were told, someone told you. How did they tell you to look for me? How were you contacted?"

She hissed softly, trying to pull her arm away from the heat of the flame, unable to move from his grasp. "A phone call. That's all, I swear. I was given your name, and a description. They already knew the places you go. I went to the club and just waited."

He moved the candle, ignoring her wince as he released her arm. He took a soft soaked washcloth from the porcelain basin and moved it gently over her arm to cool the slightly burned skin. "Good. Finally you have some sense. Now, you obviously work for someone, or are known to do tasks like this surveillance. Are you government? Contract?"

He moved down a bit on the bed, lifting her left knee and propping it up under his own knee. He picked up the candle again, placing it about eight inches under her thigh. She hissed sharply, thrashing on the bed, her reaction out of proportion to the pain the flame should be inflicting, until he sees the still healing weal across the back of her thigh, then another higher up as she thrashes again.

"Neither!" She bites her lip, tears welling as she struggles to move her leg away. "I just get calls…favors."

He keeps the candle where he had it, hissing back at her as he leans across her torso and slaps her with the wet washcloth. "Fucking bullshit, Paige! You just get calls? Favors?! What the fuck is that, Paige? I get calls too, because I'm an assassin, Paige. I have a pass through that I hire to bring me business. I do my fucking job and go home at the end of the day. Bad or good people, it doesn’t matter. It's a job, Paige, but I don’t do favors or just get fucking calls."

He slapped her again with the wet cotton. "Don’t fuck with me. You are using high-end bugging gear." He moved the candle closer to her thigh. "You are practiced at your art. I barely had a hint you were on the job until you fucked up the answer to your name earlier." He moved the candle again, barely an inch from her skin now. "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!?"

She screamed as the flame burned her, tears falling freely as she thrashed on the bed, feeling her skin blistering under the open flame, re-opening the barely healed slash across her thigh. "No one! I swear, I am no one! I just follow people…bug them if I can. The money gets deposited into my bank after I finish. Please, please believe me…I'M NO ONE!" She screamed the last part again, her entire body taut, pulling as far from the flame as she can.

"Fuck." He spit the word at her and removed the hot glass and open flame from her thigh. He threw it against the wall in anger, the impact shattering the jar, the hot wax spraying a bizarre black pattern against the white paint. The flame was extinguished by the throw, the hard wax left in a heap at the base of the wall.

"No one. No one." Turning back to her, his eyes were as hot as the molten wax, the blue replaced by a dark ichor. He dropped the washcloth, his hand moving brutally between her legs, thumb pressed deep against the outside of her cunt, four fingers wrapped under and behind her soft mound, cupping her ass and lifting her up against the restraints at her ankles. His other hand went to her throat, thumb pressing her chin skyward, exposing her neck. He straddled her, face calm except for that wicked anger in his eyes. "No one. Then no one will miss you, Paige."

She screamed again, flinching at the violence in the way he threw the candle, even as she wilted in relief at the absence of the flame on her skin. She was terrified now. This is beyond anything she was prepared for, and she reacted straight from her gut, whimpering as her body was manhandled again, the wince she gave as he lifted her mute testimony to his strength. Her eyes were wide, dark and bottomless, tears still falling, but her gaze locked to his own, afraid to look away. "You will miss me. You will know I'm gone. That's something."

"I can put you asleep for it, Paige, if you wish." His grip around her windpipe tightened ever so slightly. "You just have to ask. Otherwise, tell me who you really are, right now. This one last chance is yours." He lifted her higher, thumb pressing inward into the cloth of her panties, thick fingers digging into the skin of her ass, pulling her against the cords securely fastened to the footboards.

Her voice dropped into a soft baby whisper, little girl tones clear in it, making her appear younger than she truly is. "Put me to sleep. That's not what you want, Jack. You want to hurt me. Make me scream. Watch me bleed." Her voice fell into almost soothing rhythms. "What did you say…my blood on you? Your sheets, your floors. It doesn’t matter who I am. Right now, I'm yours. Your toy, to break and destroy."

He closed his eyes, listening to her words, relaxing the grip on her throat. His lower hand doesn’t move at all. He sat there, straddling her abdomen, his naked muscular ass just above her pubic bone, letting her words wash over him. He moved back finally, letting her fall to the bed. He rested against her a moment, the fury in him replaced by that inner need, the Demon.

Opening his eyes, he looked down at her. "I have a job to do, it's almost time." He looked up to the ceiling, as if asking for an answer, but the answer doesn’t lie above. His glance moved to the wax stain on the wall, knowing the answer lies in fire and steel.

She sensed the shift in him, the need, and continued, distracting him from finishing her off. "Look at me, Jack. Look at my body…soft and warm and pulsing with life. Smooth, pale skin. I'm made to be used; made to be hurt. Picture your handprints on me, covering me in red, burning marks. Picture me bleeding…surrendered to you. Helpless. Please, Jack…" Her voice trailed off.

He moved away, hearing her voice but not listening anymore. At the edge of the bed he paused, stretching just before rising, his defined and muscled body sweaty and glistening in the heat of his rage. He moved silently to the suit pants dumped on the bathroom floor, pulling free another of his switchblades from their pocket. He flicked it with a thumb, the blade springing free with a soft snick sound. He crouched there a moment, the knife in his hand, silhouetted against the bathroom light, silent, watching her before making a snap decision. He stalked back to the bed, one hand wrapping around her bound ankle.

Her whispers continued, a soft soothing stream of sound. "I am an offering. A slave to your will. Let me give you my blood." Her voice hissed his name, drawing out the sound of it as his hand squeezed, the blade glittering in the soft lighting. A slight quiver in her legs betrayed the deliberate softness of her tone as she kept up her stream of words. "Imagine what you could do with me…willingly…please…Jack… Don't end this now…play with me."

Without releasing her ankle, he leaned closer to her face, the hand with the blade reaching to stroke her cheek with the back of his knuckles as she whispers. His eyes flash with something, something she can't read. Before she can make another sound, his hand flicked outwards, raking the blade across her upturned palm, carving a two-inch cut into her bound hand. He waited as a dark red line immediately jumps to the surface, his face patient now, calm. He was rewarded by her cry, eyes squeezed shut at the blossom of pain in her hand, small fists clenching tight.

He moved around the foot of the bed to her other side, forcefully taking her right hand in his, patiently forcing her fingers to uncurl as she tried to protect that palm. A second whisper from the knife and its razor thin edge left a twin of life-blood oozing from her hand to match the left. She didn't cry this second time, her only outward response a catch in her breathing and a tightening of her closed eyes. As he released her hand, he noted that she didn't curl her fingers closed again, leaving both palms exposed and bleeding from the shallow cuts.

He went back to the tall dresser, setting the bloodied blade next to the scissors. He reached into another drawer, removing a small black vial. He held it up to the light for a moment and shook it, then, satisfied, he set it aside as he withdrew a long metal and glass syringe from the same drawer. He half-turned, keeping an eye on her as he fished out a fresh, plastic-wrapped needle some four or five inches in length and screwed it into the end of the syringe. He smirked slightly at the look in her eyes as she watched his hands move. Interesting. She seemed more scared of the needle than she had of the knives.

"W-what's that?" Her voice broke, shaking as she tried to sit up on the bed, inching herself as far from Jack and where he stood as she could. There was no way he could have known, but she was terrified of needles. Had been ever since she was a child. Whatever he had planned for her now, she would have much preferred even the open flame again to a needle.

He remained quiet, drinking in her fear. A slow smile curved his lips cruelly as he held the syringe up again, watching her eyes flick along its length. Her attempts at bargaining with him had come and gone so quickly. But this was nothing new to him. Everyone had something they feared more than all else, and evidently this was her breaking point. He dipped the sharp end of the needle into the vial of black fluid and slowly drew back on the plunger, withdrawing half a syringe-full of the viscous liquid.

Her eyes on the vial, she cried softly, not in fear of the fluid, although she knew whatever it was, it wouldn't be good, but more in fear of what he was going to do with the needle. Where he was going to stick it. How rough he was planning to be.

He schooled his face to be flat, emotionless as he moved back to her side, the needle held pointed upwards in front of himself. He placed it within her line of vision, beside the basin of water still on the bedside table. He knelt over her, one knee on the mattress as he worked the ropes on her wrists, his actions hidden from her view. She could feel a momentary slackness, then a retightening, than plenty of slack around her left wrist. He moved around the bed, repeating his adjustments to her right wrist as well. The thought of fighting him once her hands had more play never crossed her mind, not with her thoughts on that syringe sitting there so close at hand.

Once her hands were to his satisfaction, he moved to her ankles, working on first one, then the other. "Don't even think about struggling once this ankle is free." The words were muttered softly, his focus on the soft ropes. Once he was finished, he patted her calf. "Turn over, you have enough slack on your wrists now."

She couldn’t help herself, taunting him quietly with that baby soft voice that had seemed to reach him earlier. "Why, are you afraid to do something to me when I can see you?"

His hand hit her calf again, harder, pushing her. She compromised, rolling onto her side, giving him a view of her ass, her thong leaving little to the imagination. Something flicks again behind his eyes as he took in the sight of her bared skin, upper thighs and buttocks criss-crossed with marks, the obvious remnants of a beating in her not too distant past.

"I am afraid of nothing, my dear." He doesn’t comment on her bruises, moving back to the headboard and pulling one length of rope, which tightens the slack again on both of her wrists. Lifting the syringe, he moved to sit beside her on the bed, keeping her eyes locked with his. "I wouldn’t want to keep anything hidden from you now, little one."

He let his hand run up her thigh, across the taut curve of her asscheek, then over her hip and along her sensitive ribcage. He could feel her flesh quiver under his hand, the effort she made not to move. His hand slid slowly back down along the curved flesh of her ass, pinching a bit of soft skin between his finger and thumb.

"This might prick a bit." He watched her eyes, her terror, as the needle dove into the soft muscle of her asscheek, his thumb sending the plunder down, forcing the liquid to mix with her bloodstream. Rather than terrorize her, however, he withdrew the needle almost as quickly as he plunged it in, returning the syringe to the bedside table. His hand massaged over the insertion point, working the fluid into her muscle.

"I said I have a job to do, and Paige…I've never lost a contract." He smirked, rising from the bed. "Sleep well, I'll be back for you soon."

She managed to stay silent, not making a sound during the shot or afterwards, as she watched him move to the closet and pick out a suit, a fresh shirt, clean underthings. She felt whatever it was working on her even as she watched, insidiously seeping through her system. She felt her focus slipping, try as she might to hold the sight of him as an anchor, a warm, fuzzy darkness descending upon her even as she tried to murmur one more fuck you in his direction.

Then everything went black.

Untitled (chapt. 1)

Sat, 11 Oct 2008 11:27:14 GMT

this is a work in progress, its different than my usual stuff and still rough around the edges. i have about 5 or 6 chapters written, and will be posting them as i work through their 2nd draft.

He ran a hand through short-cropped, dusty blonde hair, brushing it back from his face. His blue-grey eyes were quiet, pensive as he watched the bustle around him. Snapping the slim black cell phone in his hand shut, he looked out to the street. There were vendors plying their wares, road rage spilling from open automobile windows, tension in the air. Frowning inwardly at his new assignment, he moved out of the alley and walked steadily towards the safe house.

She sat at the outdoor café, idly sipping an iced tea, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She perked up as seeing him exit the alley, excitement building as she recognized her target. She paid for her drink, and slipped into the foot traffic along the sidewalk, keeping him in sight as she trailed a few feet behind him.

The late summer air tugged stickily at him as he moves through the throngs of the city. People were running late day errands to and fro, their petty tasks and mundane lives sickening, really. He shook his head, the feeling of disgust lasting but a moment as the three-flat greystone came into sight on the next corner. He smoothly slid his keys from his left hip pocket, pausing ever so briefly to assess the street in front of his building.

She paused when he did, holding her cell phone to her ear, pretending to chatter brightly as her eyes slid from him to various others walking along the sidewalk. Her steps took her to his side and past him, giving the impression of no more than another of the thousand empty-headed, cell phone-attached young women in the city.

He noticed everything, registering, memorizing, a simple practiced paranoia which has kept him alive more times than not. His eyes slid over and dismiss the assorted scattering of pedestrians sharing the sidewalk. The mindless chaff of white collar America. One or two people appealed to him, colorful garb or laughter catching his attention, but he shook those thoughts from his mind, focusing on the job at hand. The trained expert turned onto the stoop, a silvery key slipping from palm to fingertips. Click. Turn. The door opened and the interior shadows welcomed him.

"Oh, dammit!" Her voice chimed softly from a few yards away. The same girl he'd noted laughing on the phone, only now she was sitting on the sidewalk, the phone smashed beside her. She bit her lip and massaged one ankle, a big crack in the sidewalk making it easy to see that she must have tripped and twisted the ankle badly enough to drop her phone. "That's what I get for not paying attention," she muttered to herself.

Turning at the sharp, feminine curse, his steely-blue eyes raked over her prone form before glancing at the face of his watch. He had hours yet, but the city, the traffic. He hated even the thought of being less than thirty minutes early to any job. People, as a rule, weren't good targets period, especially non-military types and especially when it came to traveling on schedule. Still, he had a little bit of time.

Moving to the edge of the stoop, he smiled at her. "You okay, miss?"

She looked up at him, a trace of defensiveness in her face, definite proof that she is a city girl through and through. She nodded, brushing off her skirt. "Just turned it, I think." She tried to get up, then sits abruptly as the ankle gives way. "Dammit!"

He reached her with surprising speed, catching her arm as her weight shifted on the weakened joint. "Come, let's put some ice on it then and take a closer look. I'll call you a cab or something, my place is just here." He nods back at the greystone. "I'm Jack. You are? Besides injured." He grins a bit, more with his eyes than his lips, but he tries to affect sympathy.

She was surprised at the speed with which he caught her, but nodded, playing her best 'injured female' for him. "That's very kind of you. My phone is a casualty, it seems." Her hand brushed a few stray hairs from her eyes, casually touching the silver stud earring in her ear, making sure the small tracking device is still there.

He shifted against her, a well-hid, powerful torso sliding against her side as he wrapped an arm up and under her shoulder to help support her as he steadied her on her feet. "Come, then. Easy now. Try just one step."

She leaned against him, hopping on one foot as she tried walking again, reminding herself to stay on her objective and not get sidetracked by how good he smelled. He carried her more than helps her, but together they made it to the stone balustrade.

"Here, this just wont work."

Bending his long, black-clad legs, he scooped her up into a cradled position against his chest. "Ah, much better." He strode easily up the four stone steps and into the foyer, carrying her as if she weighed no more than a child. The shadowed, richly furnished glimpse she got of the rooms off the foyer revealed a definitely masculine place, a tad spartan perhaps, decorated mainly in blacks and browns, leathers and suedes.

She glanced around as he set her back on her feet, memorizing what she can see of the layout. She was supposed to stay close, but this definitely wasn’t what her orders meant. Still, she's here now, might as well get as much intel as she can. She smiled up at him, leaning against the wall for support, keeping her injured ankle off the floor. "This is really kind of you. I appreciate it. If you could just call a cab, I'll be out of your way in no time."

He took her hand and led, or maybe slightly forced, her onto a high bar stool within an all black marble and stainless steel kitchen. "Sit, it's nothing." He almost, but not quite pushed her shoulders down so that she'd sit.

He moved to the freezer, snapping a plain white linen towel free of the oven door. He filled the towel with oblong pieces of ice, then moved back in front of her, his eyes searching hers for a moment as he realized she still hadn’t given him her name. "Let's have a look, then."

She arced her brow a bit at the take control way he manipulated her, but obeyed, settling onto the bar stool and lifting her leg at his request, holding out the ankle for him to see. Her skirt shifted as she did so, revealing somewhat more of an expanse of thigh than she intended, but the ankle itself didn’t look hurt. There was no swelling or other visible trauma to it.

To his credit, his eyes barely followed the exposed span of flesh as he gently wrapped the ankle with the ice-filled towel. He noted that there doesn’t appear to be anything major on the exterior showing injury, no redness or bruising. He filed that tidbit away for a moment as he regained his feet, eyes scanning the rest of her for any other injury. He smiled and turned away towards the arching stairway off the kitchen. "Stay here a moment, let that ice. I'll be right back down."

********

He bounded up the flight of stairs and into the master suite. The job, he reminded himself, his eyes going darker, his gaze becoming measured. Lets get back on track here. Dammit, forgot to give her the phone so that the cab would be on its way. Fuck it, I'll hail something off the street on the way out.

Going to the huge closet, the lights automatically coming on with a soft glow as he opened the doors, he pushed back the edge of the black suit coat adorning his upper half. He grabbed a holster from a hidden niche, then a long barreled, silenced weapon from a steel case resting in the niche as well. He slid it home into the holster, then added some black plastic restraints, an extra magazine, two extremely sharp military issue switchblades just in case things have to get quiet, and a length of black silky material, very tough despite it's weight, capable of serving as a garrote should circumstances warrant it.

Slipping the silky material into the breast pocket of his coat, he paused for a moment, and considered his mark. He recited the address he was given to himself, and the physical description of his mark. He went over his mental list, doublechecking the gear he had just distributed along his person and made sure everything was ready.

********

As soon as he was out of sight in the kitchen, she unwrapped the ice, setting it aside as she hopped off the stool, leaving her shoes there as she padded on silent bare feet to peek up the stairs. She made sure she was alone before pulling a second cell from her purse. She dialed quickly, and whispered only the words "I'm inside" before hanging up.

She slid back up on the barstool, re-wrapping her ankle in the ice. A faint frown marred her forehead at the way the icy cold was making the ankle numb - not the best if she had to get moving in a hurry, but essential to keep up the deception. She unhooked the tiny silver stud in her ear, palming the little thing to slip into his clothes when she gets the chance.

********

Upstairs, his eyes obsessively went to his watch one more time. He had at least an hour and a half still, but everything was ready to go and he wanted to get moving. Everything except for her. He needed to get rid of her. Ah, but what a fun indulgence she could be. The whimpers, the cries. The crimson ending. Pushing aside the inner voices telling him to keep her, he left the suite, descending the stairs back into the kitchen.

"So, how is it?" He smiled, nodding at her ankle as he grabbed a portable receiver from the wall and handed it to her. "Let me look up a cab company for you."

She smiled at him, realizing belatedly that she never put her shoes back on. "Better, thank you." She gestures lightly at her shoes, "I didn’t want the ice to melt on them."

"Ah." He set a phone book down beside her, then knelt, picking up the shoes and looking up at her for permission. She forced the smile to remain in place as he knelt there and slowly extended her leg, the towel sliding off her ankle as she held it out.

"Does it feel broken?" Her voice was soft, hiding the turmoil inside. She shouldn’t be here, and she definitely shouldn’t be thinking again about how good he smelled or how warm his hands were…except as a means to an end.

"Your name, miss," his voice trailed off, looking at her shoes, as if remembering something, "What was it again?" Seeing the ankle extended towards him, the flesh of her gently curving calf muscle, he gave in to temptation just a bit. Setting her shoes upon the counter to free his hands, and with more medical expertise than gentleness, he examined the warm flesh, ligaments and bones. He touched lightly first, then, seeing no real reaction from her, probed a bit more, fingers moving up the back of her leg. "No, I'd say you should stay off the stair climber for a week and leave the high heels at home, but you'll be fine."

Her name, damn. "Um, Paige. You can call me Paige." Her ankle flexed as his hands moved higher on her leg, and she leaned forward a bit, resting the hand with the earring in it on his shoulder. The sharp backing stuck like a burr within the folds of his shirt. "Well," her tone became more business-like, "if you'll just call that cab?"

An eyebrow raised ever so slightly at the hesitation over her name. "Paige is it? Are you sure?"

He looked over at her hand upon his shoulder as he rose, then back at her again. This time he truly took in her form from head to toe and back again, something tickling at the back of his mind. "Yes, the cab."

Flipping the phonebook pages absently, looking for limousines as he studied her from the corner of his eye, he shifted his right foot back in a practiced pose, a stronger center of gravity. Just something… His eyes moved to the front door…nothing. He listened, his breathing going shallow, drinking in the sensations of his home, the woman, the sounds from the street.

She felt a distinct chill at the way he went so still, and rose to her feet as well, reaching for her shoes. "I think I'm okay now. I can just hail a cab outside." She slid her shoes back on, tentatively putting weight on her injured ankle. "See? It's fine." She edged past him, moving towards the hall and the front door.

Instinctively, his hand moved up to the only spot where she had actively touched him. He felt the tiniest incursion, letting his thumb trail over it, knowing full well something is the fuck up. Her name, the ankle…shoes…something about the shoes. He had seen those shoes earlier in the day - before stopping in the alley for the call.

His mind filled in the blanks quickly. The café, the woman sitting at the outside table facing the alleyway. The shoes had caught his attention because of the impractical heels. He remembered thinking heels that slender were just begging to be snapped if she stepped on a sidewalk grate. The café had been several streets over, not really close to the greystone, not really a comfortable stroll in shoes like those. Moving swiftly, his steps covering the distance of the kitchen in two paces, he grabbed her arm forcefully. "Wait just one minute there, sweetheart."

Her eyes widened and she pulled back from the grasp on her arm. She wasn’t quite strong enough to break his hold. "What the hell? I knew I shouldn’t have come in, damn city is full of weirdos!" She ranted, trying to tug free, hiding the shiver of fear that ran down her back at the look on his face.

He kept a strong grip on her wrist, letting her own momentum towards the door twist the arm into an angle behind her. Using that advantage, he forced her arm into her back and pressed himself against her left side, catching her between himself and the door. One of the hidden knives slid into his hand with a whispered click from the wrist holster. The cool black steel rested flatly against her cheek.

"Do…not…fuck with me here, princess. Now be a good girl and put your other arm behind your back or I swear to fucking god you'll bleed all over this beautiful wooden floor." His voice was a cold whisper against the back of her neck.

She froze immediately, her breathing coming shallowly. She winced at the pressure on the arm he held behind her, but made no move to surrender her free arm as well. She continued playing dumb, her voice raising just a bit. "Please, just let me go. I wont tell anyone. Honest, I just want to go home."

He ignored her plea, forcing her arm upward a little more, tilting the blade against her cheek so that her beautiful eyes could see the sharp flat edge at the top and the jagged sawing edge near the bottom. "Give it over now, lass. The other arm." His voice gave no quarter as he forced his left knee up high and between her legs, pinning her even tighter against the old wood of the front door.

She closed her eyes at the sight of the blade, mutely obeying his demand as she twisted her free arm around behind her back. Her body shrunk away from his, pressing herself into the wooden door as though it would magically open if she pressed hard enough. "If you don’t let me go, I'll start screaming, I swear."

His hand wrapped around both her slender wrists, deftly circling both. A black plastic restraint looped around her hands, sliding into place as he tightened it at the soft skin just below the base of her thumbs. The noose trapped her hands, and he released her, pocketing the blade before escorting her into his den.

To her credit, she didn’t struggle once her wrists were bound. Instead, she went with him easily, walking with a smooth, graceful gait, any indication of an injury to her ankle gone. "The wrists are too tight, please loosen them." The words were stark, her voice changed, no longer attempting to portray a scared woman. She was calm, poised as she entered the shadowed room off the foyer.

His voice was smooth, whispering to her as he dragged her more than walked her to two large doors in the den. "Scream. Seriously, its fine. These hundred year old walls have been reworked with acoustical materials." He rubbed his cheek against her slightly sweating neck, inhaling her scent. "And anyway, I oh so like my prey stirred up and noisy at times."

She shuddered, pushing him away from her neck with her shoulder. "Oh, I don’t think you want me screaming, Jack. It would seriously impede your, ah, activities later today. In an hour or so, to be exact."

He smirked at her words, pushing her onto a huge black leather couch, uncaring as to how she landed. Looking at her splayed out on the leather, his mind went back again to the scene in the kitchen and her hand on his shoulder. He tugged off his shirt, completely at ease bare-chested in front of her, twin knife holsters strapped to his forearms. He spread the shirt over a large redwood desk, turning away from her. He moved behind the desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a small black device. "Ah, I would have thought they'd send something a tad more challenging."

She remained where she landed on the couch, staying still just long enough for him to take off the shirt and move to the desk. Then she was on her feet, running for the front door, screaming as loudly as she could. Even in the city, someone was bound to hear her, no matter how old the building was.

He laughed as she ran, reaching his right hand under the desk and pushing a small button on a hidden keypad. House security. The front door bolted shut from four different locks and as is common in the city, steel grates covered all the first floor windows. A locking and alarm mechanism was instantly enabled, making it impossible to open the door from inside. "Paige, please. Now you are turning me on." His voice taunted her, made even colder by the fact that he didn’t bother chasing after her.

He resumed running the small black box over his shirt, a red indicator detecting radio-frequency waves emitting from a small, barely visible microchip that appeared to blend into the fabric itself. The tiny bump he'd felt in the kitchen. Nice, expensive. Maybe she wasn’t just a trainee as he first expected. Leaving the shirt on his desk, he moved out of the den, looking for his retreating prey.

She heard the soft click of the locks and knew she was in serious trouble. Her fingers twisted and scrabbled at the plastic restraints, but she couldnt get them loose. Even if she did, she had no weapons on her. This was supposed to be strictly a surveillance job, with the placement of the tracking device if the opportunity presented itself. She should have just done it out on the street and not pushed her luck. She closed her eyes, leaning back against the door and forcing her breathing to slow. Think, Paige. Weapons. The kitchen, knives…good…that might even help get her wrists undone. She slipped off her shoes and crept barefoot back down the hall towards the kitchen door.

He inhaled deeply, smelling her scent in the air at the doorway. A faint trace of perfume and sweat. Feminine sweat, unmistakably hers. He thought he detected a trace of fear as well. He dragged his fingertips against the door, unwittingly tracing over the wood just as her body slipped away from the other side of it. His mind drifted to his impending job for a moment. I need to make this quick, but, ah, the hunt is fun isnt it.

"Oh Paige…I think your cab is here." He laughed loudly, moving from the foyer to the formal dining area, his black shoes clicking audibly on the marble and polished wood. "Here, kitty kitty…"

She sank to her knees in the kitchen, hiding behind the center island as she checked the drawers for knives. Luck was with her, and her second attempt yielded a butcher knife. She closed her eyes at his words, shifting the knife on the floor behind her, trying to catch the elastic ties with the blade's edge.

He unholstered the silenced pistol, more for effect than security, as the chances of her undoing her wrists so quickly seemed doubtful. He paused by a keypad, one of many scattered through the wired residence and completely shut down all the lights in the townhouse.

"Paige, seriously, they are paying you well, I'm sure. We can work something out. Who knows about the contract tonight?"

He moved very slowly as he approached the kitchen, a practiced assassin's walk silencing his steps. He entered the kitchen from a different doorway, coming now in the opposite direction from the front door access Paige had used. The darkness made him pause, giving his eyes a chance to adjust.

Fuck…fuck…fuck. Her thoughts were racing as the lights went out. She gave up on undoing her wrists, instead inching the blade into the waist of her skirt, where its handle was hidden by her tied hands. If she was lucky, he wouldn’t notice it there until it was too late.

"What I'm being paid is no concern of yours. Neither is who is paying me." Her voice was soft, level, a bravado she wasn’t feeling holding the words steady. She was way over her head here, and she knew it.

He chuckled inwardly as she answered his question out of the darkness. Rookie, he thought, she's definitely not a hunter/killer type. The glow of the refrigerator door keypad and the clock on the microwave gave off just enough light to betray her position on the floor beside the island. He slowed even more, moving closer…two feet away…one foot away…watching as she huddled and shifted, a shadowy form still struggling with her bound wrists.

Her eyes finally adjusted to the darkened room, and he saw her stiffen, her ears catching the quiet shift of his pants as he stepped closer. She was swiftly running out of options, and he saw her draw her legs up against her chest, curling into a tight ball. Her lips moved silently, counting each noise he made, trying to figure how much time she had left.

One more step taken, and he was before her. He crouched down, a wry smile set upon his lips. The edge of the silencer brushed an errant lock of hair from her face.

"Paige, Paige." He made a tsking noise in his throat, letting her eyes find his in the darkness of the kitchen, just before he closed hers with a lashing, blinding backhand across her face. She couldn’t help crying out as his hand caught her full across the mouth, snapping her head back and bloodying her lip. He holstered the pistol, then reached down and roughly grabbed her bound wrists in one hand and her ankles with the other. His grip tightened and he picked her up, slinging her caveman style over his shoulder while she was still stunned from the blow, chuckling again as the butcher knife slide free from the waist of her skirt and clattered against the floor. "Hungry, were you? Going to make a BLT or something?"

He shifted her weight over his shoulder and moved out of the room, heading back up the stairs to his private suite, already letting his mind whirl with the decisions of how to get the information he needed from her.

kill me now.

Thu, 09 Oct 2008 10:57:30 GMT

i just saw the proposed line up for this year's helldone.

i'm not going to be able to make it.

fuck me.

grrr.

=(

fucking awesome remix

Mon, 30 Jun 2008 17:53:18 GMT

fiction

Wed, 25 Jun 2008 22:16:31 GMT

Several handfuls of bath gel, shampoo, conditioner and almost an hour later, she emerged from the bathroom. She felt better than she had in a while, her skin clean, hair shining. She'd found a black dress in the wardrobe that fit her fairly well, but she chose to remain barefoot, enjoying the feel of the carpet under her toes. She left her hair hanging loose, it hadn’t felt right to poke around in the guest room to see if Sahde had any clips or ties his female friend had left behind. She looked around quietly, not hearing Sahde in any of the rooms nearby.

She chewed her bottom lip for a moment, thinking about the brief glimpses of memory she had had earlier. The sound of him saying her name in that hotel room, it wasn’t a happy sound, he'd been almost shouting. The look on his face, too, when he realized she didn’t remember him. There had definitely been pain there. Maybe they hadn't been friends like he implied.

She padded on silent feet back downstairs to the sitting room with the fire blazing. Her glass of water was still there, and she picked it up, swallowing thoughtfully as she settled back in front of the flames. Still, if they hadn’t been friends, why would he be helping her now? And she was fairly sure the clothes left behind by his 'friend' were her own. They were her size, and she hadn’t seen anything in the wardrobe that she wouldn’t wear. In fact, several pieces had seemed almost familiar to her. Then again, if it had been years since they last saw each other, why would he still have her things taking up space.

Sahde was seated in his study, ensconced in a heavy leather chair behind his desk. There was a glass of whiskey on the desktop in front of him, but so far he had not touched it. His scans had turned up no more information regarding how Nocturne had managed to breach the wards, let alone where she came from. It was as if she simply appeared out of thin air. He felt a tinge of anger that he was unable to find any trace of what summoned her to him, and he was giving some serious thought to the implications of her apparent memory loss. Obviously, this wasn’t something she had chosen, which meant it had been done to her.

The last person he knew she had been with was Exodus, but it made no sense that Ex would have tried to erase her memories, let alone send her back to Sahde out of the blue. The two had never really gotten along, but Sahde didn’t think Exodus would have abandoned Noc that way. There had been Jan, whom he could see going to the extremes of removing Noc's memories, and Morbius, who had had a cruel streak a mile wide, but Jan was long dead and Sahde had never seen Morbius turn his cruelty towards Noc. If anything, Morbius had adopted her like a little sister, fostering her Lilin tendencies after Jan's death.

He realized suddenly that he could no longer hear the sound of the shower upstairs. A quick sweep of his mind found her in the sitting room across the hall from his study. He called out to her, knowing she would follow his voice. "Are you finished, Nocturne?"

She glanced up at the sound, rising from her spot by the fire and making her way across the hall. She tapped her fingers on the partially closed door to announce herself before she stepped into the doorway. "Yes, thank you. I feel much better now."

"Come on in." He leaned back in his leather chair, a smile briefly gracing his lips at the sight of her looking more like her old self.

She came fully into the room, arms hugging her waist as she looked around. The room was lovely, all dark paneling and shelf upon shelf of books. She nodded unconscious approval, breathing in the scent of leather and old paper. "I smell better too." She laughed softly at herself, meeting his eyes a little easier than she had before.

He smirked, then stood, moving closer. His eyes held her, ice blue to her black, his tone serious as he asked the questions that had been kicking around in the back of his head. "Do you have any idea who did this to you? Do you wish my help in recovering your memories?"

Her smile faded almost at once, her expression growing serious. She hadn’t missed the sadness in his eyes earlier, and she didn’t miss the stiffness in his stance now. She shook her head, choosing her words carefully. "I honestly have no idea. I just remember being in the dark, and it being cold. Then I was in the woods and you were there."

She paused, then took a deep breath. "You knew me before. Was my old life worth remembering?

He bought himself time by pouring her a whiskey and setting the glass on the edge of the desk for her before returning to his chair. As she moved closer, his fingers tapped erratically on the desk. The need to be honest with her won out in the end. "I think you would prefer not to."

She nodded, then took a sip of the whiskey, crinkling her nose at the taste. "Then no. Let the memories come back as they will."

"So then." He remained in his seat, leaning back to look up at her. "What's your pleasure?"

She curled into the chair opposite Sahde's, idly playing with the glass of whiskey. He could smell the perfumed bath gels she had used in the shower, ironically still the same old favorites she used to wear. The scent made it hard for him to focus, memories and images of the old Nocturne overlaid on the image of the woman seated across from him.

"I'm in your hands for now." She shrugged lightly, another gesture he was intimately familiar with.

He scooted his chair back a bit, giving himself a bit of space. "That may not be the best place for you, Nocturne."

She shook her head, dark eyes unreadable as she held his gaze again. "You were there when the sun was coming. I don’t know what you did, but I know you helped me. I trusted you then, I am trusting you now."

"Noc, " his voice was gentle, "have you any recollection of what our past was like?"

"No." Her voice was just as soft, the normal cadence of her speech slowing a bit as she tried to reason out why she decided to trust him. "I feel safe with you…and for now, that is enough. Its not like we hated each other, right?"

"Truthfully, we enjoyed the most passionate relationship I have ever experienced." His light blue eyes regarded her with perfect clarity. "But we had our love/hate times, and it got violent."

She nodded, digesting this news. "Yet you are here helping me again. And you still have my clothes, correct?"

Her assessment of the wardrobe earned a half smile from him. "I loved you, and you me. Even at our worst, our love always came through. But there is much more to our history you need to know before you make any decisions. I was sincere in saying I might not be the best place for you to be."

fiction

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 08:59:34 GMT

more old stuff: Nocturne and Sahde, years after Jan took her away.

The night air was cold, mist drifting heavily along the ground as Sahde searched the trails through the forests surrounding his home. He had been feeling a vague sense of unease for the past day or so, as if something was out of balance. His feelings had come to fruition less than an hour earlier, when he felt something shimmer through the wards he kept erected around his property. It wasn’t enough of an energy surge to let him identify its cause, but he'd felt something familiar in the backwash.

A slight movement up ahead caught his eye, and his pace slowed as he peered through the shifting mist. It’s a woman, he can tell by the spill of long dark hair, but the rest of her is obscured by the heavy weight of a full-length cloak. She moved, sinking to her knees with a tiny sound that to his ears was one of pain. He moved closer, still cautious.

"Hello?"

She remained silent, kneeling there on the cold ground. If not for the gentle rise and fall of her cloak, he would be hard pressed to realize she was even breathing. He stopped a few feet from her, waiting to see if she would acknowledge his presence. He crouched, trying to appear less intimidating.

"Miss? Are you all right?" He kept his voice gently, not wanting to startle her.

After a few moments, she stood slowly, her face still shrouded by that fall of loose curls. Her voice was muffled as she spoke, the tone rusty as though she had not spoken aloud in a very long time.

"Where am I?"

Sahde frowned, something very familiar about her voice, even in its creaky state. "You are in a forest in the Colorado Rockies, Miss."

"Colorado." She echoed the word almost blankly, one hand moving to push at the mass of hair obscuring her face, revealing pale skin and almost black eyes.

He stepped back involuntarily, shock clearly visible in his eyes. He blinked, willing himself to see what was before him and not what he wished to see, but she was still there. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words refused to come. She raised her eyes to his, then moved back a step herself, fear showing on her face in response to the expression on his.

He held up one hand, as if that would stop her from bolting, his voice almost a whisper. "Noc?"

"Do you know me?" Her look of fear became one of terror that a stranger would know her name.

He took a deep breath, forcing his features to something more neutral, concealing the almost agonizing pain within him at the realization that she did not recognize him as well. "I am Sahde." He extended his hands, both to show he carried no weapons and to encourage her to come closer. "Would you like to come to my house? It is certainly warmer there than it is out here, and snow is expected tonight."

Her desire to run is clear in her eyes, but she notes that he is unarmed and he's right that it is cold outside. Her cloak is hardly adequate for the Colorado weather. She nods silently, her sense of survival outweighing her fear and disorientation.

He studies her for a moment, using his magic to ascertain what she looks like now, even in the dark noting that she is much thinner than usual. Her cloak is tattered, and so are the bits of her clothing he can see beneath it. The scariest thing, however, is the emptiness in her eyes, eyes which he has seen filled with every emotion from love to tears to homicidal rage, but never empty. He closes his eyes, a million questions running through his head. Nocturne had simply vanished from his life years ago, and in time, even rumors about her had ceased. Yet here she was, somehow having broken through his wards, with no memory of him or their connection.

He took a deep breath, then opened his eyes and smiled, turning slightly to point the way back up the path he had been traveling. "My house is about five minutes that way. Are you up to it?"

She nodded, glancing along the path he pointed out. "Yes, I think…"

He nodded briskly, burying his emotions deeper lest he scare her away. "Come along, then." He turned away and began hiking back along the path. She followed slowly, picking her way carefully over the rough terrain. He increased his pace when he heard her following, stopping a distance ahead on the trail to wait for her to catch up.

She kept her head down, biting her bottom lip as she tried to match his pace. The overly long cloak caught around her feet, making her stumble and fall to her knees with a muttered curse. He sighed, making his way back to her rapidly, moving almost too surefootedly in the near dark.

"Here, young lady." He holds out his hand to help her up, curious to see if she will take the offer. She hesitates, clearly gritting her teeth, but then accepted. Her touch was surprisingly warm considering the cold night air and her usual low body temperature.

He blinks at the touch, surprise coloring his voice in response to her warmth. "Have you…eaten lately?" He pulls her to her feet.

She has no idea how to answer, the time before finding herself there with him one big blank. "Yes?"

His voice gentles a bit. "Are you hungry?"

She shrugged slightly, a soft growl from her stomach betraying her denial. He could feel her pulse jump under his hand as she blushed.

"You are hungry." He smiled. "We can take care of that, right enough. Here." He offered her his arm.

She accepted the arm carefully, smiling just a bit for the first time. "Thank you…Sahde?" Her voice inflected a bit as she tested his name on her tongue.

He nodded. "That's me..and you said your name was?" His arm tightened around hers, ensuring she did not trip again as they continued along the path.

"My name…," her voice trailed off, her thoughts filled with that blankness again. "You said Noc." She nods, feeling the resonance of recognition. "My name is Noc."

"An interesting name, to be sure." They reached a clearing at the end of the path, and he pointed to a large two story house nestled at the clearing's center. "That's mine."

She smiled, slightly more at ease. "Its big."

"I like big houses." He smiled back. "It gives me room to move in, and I have never liked cramped spaces. Whenever I visit a packed city, its all hotels for me." He walked her to the front door.

She murmured softly, almost without thinking. "We've enjoyed quite a few hotels." She seemed almost unaware she even spoke, her attention focused on her surroundings.

He let the comment pass, but started thinking harder about what might be going on with her as they moved into his house. She hugged her cloak tighter about herself, as if afraid to dirty anything, the oversized cloak hiding the worst of her ruined clothing.

He looked to her, debating within himself as he closed the doors and locked just the top lock. "Would you like some water?"

She nods, her eyes on the polished wood floors, the warm light inside making her filthy state even more evident.

He gestured to the hearth, close to the fire. "Have a seat."

She slipped off her cloak, folding it beneath herself as she sank to her knees on the hearthstones, not wishing to dirty his furniture. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the heat the fire afforded, and even in her present state, there is no mistaking her identity.

Sahde excused himself, stepping into the kitchen, his heart hammering so hard that he thought she would surely be able to hear it even as a human. "What in the world…," he muttered, his mind turning over at a furious pace as he collected her a large glass of ice water.

Once she was alone, she opened her eyes again, sighing softly. Fingers plucked at her clothing, smoothing the worst of the tears. Her hands smooth through her hair as well, taming the wild riot of curls a bit. She was scared, no sure how she got there, but still…there was something familiar about Sahde and that gave her some measure of calm.

He came back into the room and stopped dead at the motions of her hands through her curls, caught so by the memories they evoke that he nearly dropped the water. He must have made some sound, because she glanced up, startled.

Her lips curved into a real smile, not another of the little attempts she made earlier, and he was again caught in memories. "I'm a mess."

He watches her, golden light from the fire dancing over her still form. "If you wish to shower…I keep extra bathrobes." He smiled at her, aware of how that sounded. "And I kept a wardrobe for an old friend of mine…but I don’t think I'll be hearing from her again anytime soon." He set the water by her and moved to the other side of the hearth, sitting on one of the couches.

She lifted the glass, sipping the water, grateful for its coolness against her throat. "I couldn’t impose. I will be fine. Thank you for the fire and the water." She looked down at her hands holding the glass. "I'm not sure how I got here."

"I'm not sure either." He studied her. "You got through my wards, but it's as if you just appeared out of no where."

She nodded, her eyes closing as she searched her memory again. "Its just blank…dark." She shook her head, eyes opening. "All I remember is wanting to be home."

"Amnesia." He sighed. "Perhaps my friend Oddysee would know how to treat it." He adopted a thoughtful look, but actually kept a close eye on her, knowing that although he hadn’t seen Oddysee in years, that name is one that might wring a reaction out of Noc.

She frowned, her voice sharp as her eyes flashed with the first real emotion he had seen in her since finding her in the woods. "NO. I don’t want to see anyone."

"Except for me?" His voice remained deceptively mild.

She blushed, unsure what caused her outburst. "This is your house. You come with the territory."

"So it does." He smiled a bit impishly at her. "And as the master of my domain, I decree that all guests must be clean, so…," he rose up and held out a hand. "To the shower you go."

She took his hand, her own smile mirroring his, as she gathered her cloak. "Are you going to supervise the shower?"

He frowned a bit, not wanting her to have the wrong idea about what he expects. "No, I tend not to watch my guests shower. For the men, it would just be weird."

"Pity." She teased softly, unsure why she felt at east with him. "It could be fun."

"I'm sure. You are beautiful." He placed a hand at the small of her back, guiding her into the hall. "But I think you are also in trouble."

Her voice was soft as she replied. "I think all I need is to get home." She turned away, not realizing that she knew the way without him, leading them upstairs to the main bathroom as if she had been there before.

Sahde followed after her as they reached the top of the stairs. "The guest room is right down there." He pointed down the hall. "The wardrobe I spoke of is in the closet of that room."

She turned back, smiling again as she looked at him. "I don’t suppose you have anything in black leather in there?"

"I honestly don’t recall." He tilted his head, watching her. "But if it is there, you are welcome to it. Oh, and the robes are in the linen closet in the bathroom." He nodded encouragingly at her. "Take as long as you like."

"Sahde?" She whispers, pausing in the bathroom doorway, one hand on the doorframe.

"Yes, Noc?" He would have sworn his heart skipped a beat as she said his name.

"You knew my name." She paused, taking a deep breath. "You know me, don’t you?"

He nodded somewhat reluctantly. "I know you. But rest assured, I hold you no ill will." The sadness showed in his eyes as he met her gaze. "We were…very close."

She nodded, fidgeting for a moment, her body half hidden behind the bathroom door. "Can…can you take me home?"

"You have many homes…Nocturne." He used her full name for the first time in years, gifting it back to her. "We have not seen each other in some time, and I know not where your last home was." He looked down at the floor, then back up at her. "But you can always consider my home yours as well."

Her eyes closed at the sound of her full name. Sahde's voice speaking it awakened a scrap of memory. His voice, saying her name, a hotel balcony with glass windows…then just as quickly, the memory was gone. She swayed slightly, trying to hold onto it.

"Are you all right?" He stepped closer to her.

"The sun was rising." Her voice was a whisper again, trying to remember. "And you were there…"

He swallowed, remembering that night as well. Remembering the love and the terror. Remembering how close to losing her he came that night.

"I wanted to go home, and I ended up here…that must mean something." She shook her head, unable to recall anything more. She closed the bathroom door, and a few minutes later he could hear the sound of the shower running.

He exhaled, tension he wasn’t aware of releasing as the door blocked her from his sight. He moved down the hall to his own rooms, closing the door and kneeling at the foot of his bed. He sent his mind out over the forest where he found her, hoping that in his astral form he could determine just where she came from and how she breached his wards.

date with michael

Sun, 22 Jun 2008 03:51:31 GMT

so i went on that date with michael. i was pleasantly surprised, he was just as charming and fun in person as he was online and in our phone conversations.

we had breakfast at seferino's on central. i've been by the place quite often, but never ate there before. i had the carne adovada and scrambled eggs, and it was really good. i wish i'd been able to eat more of it, just because it tasted good.

from there we hit the flea market - which is much smaller and more flea than market compared to what i remembered from the last time i went. michael bought a cow skull with horns and this really cute little southwestern patterned 'couch' cover for a kleenex box. i still want a cow skull of my own, but honestly, i have no idea where i'd put it in the house and the last thing i need now is more stuff cluttering up the place.

there was also a folk music festival going on at the same fair grounds, so we wandered over there and poked around a bit. heard some really nice bluegrass jam sessions, and a little irish folk music. unfortunately, the sun and lack of sleep was catching up, so we headed back to my place for a while.

in fact, i'd planned to go with michael to a bbq get together thing later in the evening, and ended up bailing on him for that. too much sun and not enough sleep, i needed to crash for a few hours. its probably a good thing anyhow - when i took a bath after he left, i got a good look at my chest in the mirror and i am sunburned. as i sit here writing, i can feel the heat radiating off my skin. with a little luck, in a day or two the red will be a nice tan and wont peel...~L~

i had a really good time. he's very easy to talk to, and the whole day went by pretty quickly. i think he had fun too - hard to tell sometimes, since i'm much quieter than he is, but i hope he knows i enjoyed it. =)

fleh.

Sat, 21 Jun 2008 02:13:07 GMT

ok, so i have a date tomorrow with someone new. this will be my first real date since the last time scott was here back in april.

i think i'm nervous. maybe. i haven't decided yet. on the one hand, its always a little nerve-wracking meeting someone new, but on the other hand, we've been having these massive phone call-a-thons the last few nights, so its not like he feels like a stranger, if that makes sense. like 4 hours one night, 2.5 a few times, and so on, plus emails and IMs.

besides, its just a date. i've been on lots of dates. i've been on blind dates. this should be a piece of cake.

except...

i like him. i hated him when i first ran across him, but once we got talking, he seems really nice. he's funny and he's comfortable to talk with. he also has no problem getting silly with me and indulging my flights of fantasy, such as the whole i want to live forever as a vampire thing. i think we'll get along just fine. maybe a little more than fine. and, me being me, and what with the whole gun-shy thing after dan, part of me wants to just run and not have this date.

all those little what-ifs are whispering in my ear. what if we don't get along in person, like with the dude from SF. what if it goes well, then gets all screwy like things did with scott. what if we really get along, and things go great. (yes, i know thats a good thing, but being good doesn't make it any less scary.) what if he hates my blue hair?

in a way, this would be easier as a blind date. then i'd have no preconceptions whatsoever regarding his personality or our compatibility. then again, i cant think of a single blind date i went on that i ended up seeing more than the one time, so maybe this is just as well.

at least its a casual date - he's picking me up in the morning, we're going to breakfast then to the local flea market. low key, not much pressure, nice. then there is some get-together thingy he wants us to go to later in the day. should be interesting. there will be plenty of things going on so that we don't get stuck in any of those awkward, nothing to say moments.

so yeah. i'm half-tempted to call the date off, but i know i'd never forgive myself if i didn't go on it. i just need to keep telling myself to breathe.

ancient stuff

Tue, 17 Jun 2008 10:39:45 GMT

(A/N: so i was cleaning out old files tonight, because procrastination is my middle name when i dont really feel like focusing on work, and i came across some old stuff i'd written probably a good 5 years or better ago. i decided to throw it up on here and maybe it will give me the inspirational nudge i need to go back and finish some of the half-written snippets languishing in file hell on my hard drive or do the massive re-write on what i have to make it more coherent.)

nocturne's journals

april 17, 2001

my name is nocturne. i belong to a family called the discordias. they are a mixed bunch, and i cant say that i know them all that well. i have been away a long time, and only recently returned to the family home. as so often happens in life, my path was a different one than theirs and so i went my way years ago. however, circumstances are now such that i am returned home.

its been an interesting homecoming. no one knows me and i dont know them. my father, elijah, hasnt been there since my return. cardinale vincentes, the head of the family, remembers me. my own recollection of him is a vague one at best, but at least my return was met with his open arms. and then there is jan.

jan is also new to the family. his path and mine have crossed before, and he was certainly the last person i expected to find within the chantry when i returned home. on his behalf, its fair to say he was not expecting me either. my family origins had never come up between us before and he had no idea i was a discordia. indeed, during the time i was away and while i was with jan, i was no one. no past, no future, only the now.

the path i chose which brought me so far from home is that of the Lilin. the path of Lilith, the Dark Mother. the darkness i travel through isnt well known, but within it i have found a modicum of peace. well....maybe not peace. but i have found truth, and that is as close to peace as many of us will come.

this journal will document my travels, beginning here with my return home. along the way, i will also be sharing what i learn on this path i have chosen. and there is still jan. our paths have crossed again, and i am hopeful..for the first time in a long time.

you are welcome to make this journey with me, but be warned: once the scales have been taken from your eyes, there is no turning back, no un-learning to be done.

~~**~~

may 22, 2001

Jan is gone. its that simple...a note saying he was being called away, and he didnt know when he would be back. he must be loving this, attending to whatever his business is that calls him away and knowing the gift he leaves for me: stiletto through my heart. as if i wasnt confused enough about him before.

a lilin breaks with convention, flouting "accepted society" in order to force others to re-evaluate their views of the world. with the branding-iron and the scourge, the cainite brings painful lessons that, if survived, make the postulant stronger. those who hover on the edge of awareness are watched carefully for the final soul-wrenching revelation that brings them strength if they do not destroy themselves. to visit pain and even death is the greatest gift that can be given, for through these trials the individual comes to understand herself. each must discover her own inward seeds of Knowledge and Life, so as to become a universe unto herself and an architect of creation. the garden, the symbol of life shaped and cultivated with care, is the manifestation of the baham's devotion to expressing what she has created and learned.

were i to look deeply into the tiniest recesses of my heart, i wonder what seeds i would find there, what twisted creation is growing deep inside me, hidden from even the light of the moon. each of us walks their own path within Lilith's garden...some, like the rude plow, employ physical tortures and live within the war-torn spaces of the inner cities..some act as seeders, planting gossips and innuendo where they can grow the best while still others prune the broken branches, careful words here and there to those broken people, gently nudging and shaping under the guise of kindness, until the madness and pain blossom. i want to be one who prunes. one who smiles and touches gently, and carefully crafts the most beautiful of monstrosities.

even within the darkest of gardens, ethics prevail. perhaps not the ethics modern society would find acceptable, but ethics nonetheless.

the ethics of the path:
- only through pain are we elevated
- be teacher, torturer and lover to any who seek enlightenment.
- practice what you learn. Wisdom is meaningless unless it accompanies action.
- cultivate a garden, that you may show the power of your own creation.
- seek out those on the border of awareness and initiate them.
- gather with your brothers and sisters to share your learning and anguish.

make no mistake, the lilin have little room for compassion or conscience. they fully believe that one must grasp the blade of enlightenment – and suffer the lacerations thereof – before rising to the truth. those who have not the will or the insight to suffer that they might learn are chaff, cast aside sadly but unhesitatingly. no time or resources is wasted on those who do not have the overpowering need that allows one to suffer, change and grow. the hierophants, the vampire priests of Lilith, choose those who have heard the song – ahi hay Lilitu – and punish them, flagellate them and excoriate them until they arrive on the cusp of seething, erect awareness. only then are the tears brushed away with lover's care, the wounds comforted and the supplicants brought into the fullness of Lilith's glorious path.

and so, my path continues. Jan is still with me, an exquisite pain held deep within my heart, forever scarred there and forever part of who and what i am.

~~**~~

june 3, 2001

stay or go, left or right....i'm getting whiplash from looking back and forth....past and present and future all tangled up

i'm drowning inside...my lungs are bloody from the screams...it hurts and it isnt stopping...satori...sharp and gleaming

the option i choose is to close my eyes...embrace the pain...and cast the dice...whatever happens now, happens...

i lay my fate on the winds.

~~**~~

january 16, 2002

havent written here for so long, where to begin....

with jan gone indefinitely, time passed slowly for me...night after night of the hunt...feeding, sleeping...killing time within the chantry waiting for him to return. as the nights progressed, i was accompanied more and more by a man named sahde.

over the long nights, we talked and traded stories, explored some of the mysteries of the chantry, and generally became close friends. At one point, our quiet evenings were interrupted by the appearance of a Lilin named michael. michael was looking for me and jan. he wanted us to perform the Ritual of Caine for his sect when the moon was full and correctly aligned in the heavens. i refused; with jan gone, i would have had to perform the ritual with michael. i wanted no part of it.

one confrontation led to another, and i ended up facing michael in combat. he underestimated how badly i did not want to complete the ritual with him, and he ended up paying with his life. somewhere along the way, he nearly cost me my own life as well. apparently, michael was dabbling in the darker arts and sought to use the power of the lilin ritual for his own ends. he managed to call forth some dark, evil entity which was residing within him, promising him the world in exchange for its own power.

when michael was killed, the entity tainted me. it was slowly taking over within me. sahde confronted it and was able to drive it out and trap it within a crystal. unfortunately, this proved too dangerous, and the entity escaped. we were lucky enough to capture it a second time, which almost cost me my life, and sahde was able to destroy it....we think.

one of the side effects of this fight against the entity was the restoration of my humanity, my empathy and feelings. this is not to say i had no feelings before, but somehow, sahde brought back the purity i had before i was embraced and began the Lilin way.

things between he and i grew more intense, and in time we made plans to marry. of course, my curse held true, and once more i was alter bound, but never married. within a week of us planning to be married, jan returned.

my beloved jan. my heart stopped when i saw him. i had to tell him about sahde, and it was like a knife in my heart to see him walk away. i should not have thought he would give up so easily. i had failed him and failed the path of the Dark Mother. for this, he forbid the marriage, invoking his right as Lilin elder, and took me away to be punished for my transgressions.

sahde followed, hoping to stop jan. by the end of the night, sahde had been beaten, thrown from the chantry, banished from atlanta until such time as the cardinale called him back. jan was livid, he demanded sahde's life in exchange for the damage done to mine, but the cardinale refused him, saying sahde still had work to do.

for my part, jan drained me almost beyond the point of no return. i was fed from his own veins, replacing the tainted blood within me once more with the purity of his own, but he said it was not enough. i'm not sure how many nights we spent that way - him draining me, me barely able to swallow his gift. eventually the cardinale made him stop. i dont remember much, but from what i was told, jan nearly killed himself in the process of trying to strip the humanity from me.

i am better now, whole again at least in body. jan, however, still sees me as tainted. he is planning to teach me the ways of the path, in the hopes that consecrating me to the Mother will make me pure again.

~~**~~

exerpt from a cold spring night:

nocturne entered the park, heading deeply into the dark woods. she left the path, searching for a quiet glade where she could concentrate on the night's work without fear of interruption or spying eyes. after walking several minutes, she found an ideal spot off the beaten path moved within its moonlit confines. spreading her cloak on the ground within the little glade, she stripped off her clothing, kneeling naked in the moonlight on the soft cloth. she glanced up at the moonlight, a tiny smile on her lips, totally at odds with the bloodthirsty gleam in her eyes.

she opened the bag she brought with her, carefully removing its contents and arranging them around herself: long, thin rose stalks complete with thorns, a thermos of iced water that clouded with condensation as the night air hit it, a long blade, gleaming dully in the moonlight, and finally and a series of tiny faceless dolls, each marked to represent the 13 bloodlines of Kindred.

her eyes closed, and she raised her arms to the moon, chanting softly in an ancient language.

"lammanas! lammanas! kol fetu hattabus! nachash no goash aral to ari. yin soquaa ahni anaka. lakhil alhil kataab. yin soquaa ali. artri lilhitu!"

she repeated her chant over and over, picking up the rose stalks and flagellating her soft flesh, unmindful of the thorns ripping into her skin. the temperature around her droped, the wind picking up as her call went out into the dark night.

the wind swirled around her, and began to whisper, the myriad of voices barely discernable. the air temperature dropped again, raising goosebumps on her flesh. she continued chanting, the thorns drawing
blood every place they kiss her skin.

she dropped the bloodied thorn branches and grabbed the knife, cutting deeply across her thighs in a stylized series of slashing motions. as the pain kicked in, the voices in the wind reached a crescendo. she reached for the ice water, pouring it over herself in one smooth motion. the combined pain and iciness shocked her system, pushing her into another place within her mind.

the wind stopped and it became almost preternaturally calm within her clearing. her eyes were hazed, unseeing as she heard a deep voice speaking to her.

"who are you that stands here in Lilith's garden?"

her voice was calm and clear as she answered, the knife still within her grasp. "i am a child of Lilith, who has tasted of Her heart's blood and eaten of the sacred fruits."

the masculine voice continued, "behold the child of She who has starved us!"

her voice remained calm as she unseeingly picked up several of the dolls, slashing them with the bloodied blade as the words fall from her lips. "you lie! She starved you not."

the voice spoke again. "behold the child of She who has denied us!"

nocturne again picked up several of the dolls, shredding them as well,
a hint of anger in her tone. "you lie! She denied you nothing!"

for the third time, the masculine voice sounded. "behold the child of She who has cursed us!"

noc snarled, dropping the knife in favor of tearing apart the remaining dolls with her hands. "you lie! the curse is of your own doing!" she threw the remains of the last couple dolls, a tiny gleam of triumph in her eyes as all the tattered pieces burst into flame.

she got to her feet, blood dripping still from the cuts and gashes in her skin, the blood seeming to feed the flames as she fed it the shreds of the dolls. the flames burned hotly, arcing skyward, but without spreading, slowly rendering the tiny dolls into nothing but ash. "this is the justice of lilith and lucifer. this is the fate of the childer of caine! caine, son of eve and spawn of adam the defiler, you shall reap sevenfold the bitter herbs of my vengeance. caine, son of eve and spawn of the first man, you shall burn in the pleasure of the sun..."

the wind again picked up as the flames died down, gusts spiraling madly, spreading the ash to the four corners of the world. the voices within the wind strengthened and joined hers.

"forever are we set against you and yours. your childer shall rise up against you and each other, and they shall do unto you far worse than you have done unto us. forever shall the fruit of the garden be denied to you, and you shall ever roam the earth in misery. this is the Mother's curse."

with a final howling cry, the wind faded away and the normal sounds of the night gradually returned as she slumped to her knees. she whispered softly as she began to heal her wounds. "so it is spoken, so it is done. bahari laitee Lilitu! bahari laitee Lilitu. bahari laitee Lilitu. so it is done..."

~~**~~

april 25, 2002

i did it. i performed the invocation tonight and it worked just like Jan said it would. he was right that my training is finally starting to pay off.

this was the first time i did the invocation on my own. i wish jan had been there to witness, but he has been away for a few weeks on chantry business. i know he would have been here if he could. i wish he would come home.

i heard through the rumor mill that sahde has come back to atlanta. he hasnt been seen around the chantry, but if the rumors are true...well...i dont know how i feel about that. i belong to jan, this is my home, my family. jan was right in chasing sahde away, i think. he would never truly be one of us, never really belong. our blood is not his blood, and i think jan was right about sahde eventually reaching a point where he could not tolerate what i was and would seek to destroy me. still, part of me loved him, and love never really dies, does it.

i cant write more now, i am exhausted from the invocation. perhaps jan will be home when i awaken.

~~**~~

may 6, 2002

jan is home! he was here when i got in this morning. he looks tired, but not so tired that he didnt have a smile and hug for me. his business for the cardinale is completed, and he was impressed about the invocation. he says i am ready for the next step along the Path now.

the ceremony is planned for next week. i know the steps by heart, both the physical requirements and the ritual words, but i am still nervous. i know jan wouldnt want us to begin these preparations if he wasnt sure i was ready. i trust him. i think i am ready for the next step too. i just dont want to screw it up by making an error during the ritual. i've heard horror stories from nomad and some of the others about rituals that were interrupted or that went wrong and the damage caused by the backlash of power.

i'm being silly. everything is going to go just fine.

turns out the rumors about sahde are true too. nomad saw him and actually spoke to him. he never asked about me, so maybe he has moved on as well. i hope so. jan never forgave him for how his removal of that taint within me restored some of my humanity. this ritual we will do will remove the last of it for good. i will be pure again, consecrated to Lilith, a priestess upon the Path, and worthy of becoming Jan's mate.

~~**~~

A week later, Niagara Falls, New York:

They shadowstep out of the darkness, hidden by the trees surrounding the falls, well away from the eyes of the ever present crowd. He smirks lightly, taking her in his arms. “Lovely place, Nocturne. Plus the noise drowns out screams, whatever might cause them.” She nods silently, her cheek to his shoulder as she breaths him in, scarcely believing he is truly here. Her hands work carefully, trying to loosen the shadow tendrils binding them. She knows what is to come, but still – his tying her as though she cannot be trusted to complete the ritual. She wants him to know she is doing this of her own free will.

“Tell me, are you ready for what is to come, my dear?” He asks her the question softly, testing her resolve.

“Would it matter, Jan? I know you find humanity a burden.” Her tone is sharper than she intended, and she softens it with a glance from her dark eyes.

He shrugs. “It wouldn’t matter. I care not for your humanity, at least not right now. I simply have missed you much.” She struggles sharply a moment, bringing his attention back to the ebony tendrils holding her. He smiles softly as he dismisses the bindings, walking past her to the edge of the falls. “Sorry.” He stretches, enjoying the urban/wilderness mix of the place. A natural wonder surrounded by a flowering complex. How…appropriate.

“I’m sure you didn’t bring me here to smell the roses, Jan.”

“I thought you might want to relax before we started, actually. Come and enjoy the view, Noc…” His voice remains soft, his attention seemingly on the magnificant waterfall before them. "I remember you, Nocturne. As Paige, you were so fragile, so weak. But you loved your life, remember how you fought being turned? I knew it was meant to be, though. There was a light within you that called to me. I was right. You have become a beautiful creature, Noc. Powerful and strong in your own right. After tonight, however, you will burn as a candle in the darkest night. You were created for this path, created to walk at my side." He glances at her, reaching out and rubbing one thumb along the soft curve of her bottom lip. "Is there anything you wished to do before we start?"

Just beyond their sight, another man steps from the shadows, his face marred by the intense anger and frustration he is feeling. He has been following them all night, ever since Jan appeared and whisked Nocturne away from him earlier. He’ll be damned before he gives her up to whatever unholy madness this religion of the Lilin has in store for her.

She shakes her head, remaining where she is. “Thank you, but I’ll pass. Can we begin?” Her voice drops to a whisper, intoning the first words of the ritual. “Before everything else, I was like you…”

Jan shudders slightly, responding. “I was there too.” A lashing tentacle whips out from behind him, catching behind her knees, wrapping tightly around her. “I wont let you fall apart…” She cries out softly, the tendril bringing her to her knees before him.

Sahde steps from the shadows, his calm voice belying the rage in his eyes. “If she dies, you die worse.” An obsidian dagger balances in his palm, fingers tightening as if fighting the urge to use it. Jan glances up, then ignores him entirely. His objections, his presence is just so irrelevant right now. Nocturne is to become Lilin, and that is Jan’s sole focus.

Jan falls to his knees before Nocturne, whispering the words. “None of them can stop us now…” His unshakeable self quivers in anticipation, oblivious in appearance, if not in fact, to everything around them. Nocturne’s gaze slides over Sahde, not recognizing him as she gives herself to the ritual, her focus returning to Jan. A shard of obsidian flies from the dagger through the air, neatly slicing the tentacle that holds her legs bound, but she doesn’t move.

Her eyes darken, a tendril she summons slamming into Jan as she invokes the Arms of the Abyss. “In a world full of ugliness…”

“PAIGE!” Sahde’s voice shouts in her head, trying to reach her before its too late. She starts, concentration broken, comprehension in her eyes as she looks up, the tendril fading. Jan hisses sharply, both from the bite of the tendril she conjured and from the interruption, then cloaks both himself and Nocturne from Sahde’s sight, drawing her back into the darkness, her focus restored, everything but the man before her fading to black. His hand is light on her cheek as he whispers. “Until the very end of me...”

“Goddammit!” The curse is hurled to the night sky, Sahde eyeing the blackness hiding her from his sight, the knife leveled in his hands, seeking a visible target.

Within the black, her hands slide over the ground, until she finds that shard of obsidian. Her fist closes over it, raising it to Jan’s chest. “When everything is meaningless…”

He simply waits, chest unprotected, stoic. “Sometimes it’s just that nothing seems worth saving…” He gathers tentacles behind her, dozens of them, waiting.

Sahde crouches, biding his chance to stop this madness, his knife sheathed for now.

Her eyes never leave Jan’s as she presses the shard to his skin, cutting deeply enough to cause him to bleed as she carves a rune into his skin. “Its something I have to do…”

He wails silently, his psyche screaming into the night. “I was there too…” His eyes are closed with pain, his mind overflowing with a burning passion.

“The farther I fall…as lost as I get…the deeper the wound…” With each phrase, she twists the shard deeper into his skin, his blood wetting her fingers.

“I’m beside you…I will find you…I’m inside you…For every and ever I am a part of you…” He answers, pushing against the shard, waiting one more moment.

“Hell with it.” Sahde grits out the words, his patience ended. He kicks a reddish crystal into the darkness surrounding them, deep enough to penetrate the gloom, then extends the dagger again. He mutters a soft phrase, and the crystal explodes into light, as bright as the noon sun, eliminating all shadows in its brillance.

She is momentarily blinded by the flash of light dispelling the comforting darkness, losing her hold on the shard as she flinches back, her words becoming lost. “Even after everything…”

Sahde jumps forward, placing his hands on her shoulders as she flinches, drawing her away from Jan while she is disoriented. Jan growls, reaching out and pulling her from Sahde’s hands, catching her tightly to his chest. The shard of obsidian is caught between them, embedded in flesh at both ends, partly in him, partly in her. “You’re the Queen and I’m the King..” As Sahde tries to pull her back, Jan and Nocturne vanish completely from his sight, bound by the shard and their blood.

She gasps as the shard pierces her, his blood hot and wet on the stone as it embeds in her. It burns, encompassing her focus entirely. Sahde just cries out softly, knowing he has lost her. “No…” He mutters another incantation, sending sprays of water from the dagger now, trying to detect where Jan has taken her. The ritual must be done here, so they cannot have gone far.

“Nothing else means anything…” Jan whispers softly to her mind, like he has done so many times before. He then releases her from his grip, softly pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

“And in a dream, I’m a different me…with a perfect you...we fit perfectly...and for once in my life, I feel complete…” She whispers softly, her eyes locked with his, black as midnight. Her blood spills, rivulets seeping around the obsidian, soaking her shirt, soaking his…melding with his blood.

He hisses softly, breath fanning her face as he strokes her cheek with his palm, thumb brushing her pale lower lip. “And I still want to ruin it...Afraid to look, as clear as day, this plan has long been underway, I hear them call, I cannot stay; the voice inviting me away…”

Her eyes fluttered back in her head a moment, and she sagged in his arms, her weight a feather to him. As strength returned to her, she clung close for a moment…then a moment more before reaching for the shard. Her movements had a trance-like quality as she pulls free from it, the mark it leaves on her skin remaining. Unlike every other injury, this one does not heal right away, instead changing before her eyes to a deep, dark rune burned between her breasts. Her eyes take on an obsidian hue, flames of red dancing in their depths as she looks up at him

Sahde paces. He knows they are here somewhere, but despite his best efforts, he cannot find any trace of her. Nothing he can lock onto. He swears vilely, using words and languages that no longer even exist. She was his, and this Jan – this evil demon - was taking her away, where he could not follow. He opens his mind, screaming to her in the darkness...her name a curse and prayer. “Paige!!”

This time, his effort pays off. He can feel her there, twisted, but distinctly her. “Paige…”, his mental voice is composed, calm, resigned. “I’ve always loved you.” He can feel her acceptance of his words, her love for him there, muted by the pain in her soul, and he can feel her refusal to let him in or let him help her. “I have, and shall for as long as I hold you in my memory...” His control cracks, and she hears it in his voice, the break adding to her pain. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry I drove you to this.” And then the contact is severed. Sahde is simply gone.

Within the darkness, she hisses, stiffening as the contact severs so abruptly, her eyes opening, swirls of jade green, the last remnants of the human Paige, giving way to Nocturne’s black gaze. The severance, combined with the burning in her chest push her to her limits, foreshortened by her inattention to the Path of late…and she goes limp before him. Jan gathers her gently into his arms, a gentleness he rarely shows her when she is awake. His thoughts caress her own, reaching through the haze. “Be strong, Nocturne, Lilin...” he uses her new name. “Be strong, little pet. It hurts, I know. All of it."

The rune on her chest pulses softly, matching the one on his chest. The blood and obsidian and ritual words have taken their toll on them both. The open cuts begin healing, finally forming a smooth, black scar, raised from her skin just a bit. As it heals over, the pain lessens, and her eyes open just a bit. Nocturne is reborn.

He smiles, whispering the final part of the binding. “I’m straight, I wont crack, on my way and I cant turn back..” He clears his throat, and holds her gaze. “Welcome back, beloved.” Her hand moves to her chest, palm covering this newest scar he has gifted her with. “Drink the fountain of decay…tear a hole exquisite red...fuck the rest and stab it dead..” His hand covers hers, resting over where her heart used to be. “Broken, bruised, forgotten, sore…too fucked up to care anymore…”

Her voice even is changed now, the soft clear tones replaced by something darker, decayed velvet. “In the back…off the side...far away is a place where I hide…where I stay…tried to say...tried to ask... I needed to...all alone by myself…where were you?” She rises slowly, preternatural grace making her feline in the twilight. Her nails score lightly down his chest, then slash, drawing blood along his cheek.

He winces, but his voice remains smooth. “How could I ever think its funny…how everything that swore it wouldn’t change is different now…”.

She purrs quietly as he speaks, pink tongue flicking, licking the blood from his jaw line. Her breath is copper tinged as she whispers, so close her eyelashes tickle his cheekbone. “I descend from grace… in the arms of undertow…I will take my place…in the great below…I can still feel you…even so far away…” Her voice fades, and her head falls forward on his chest.

He slides his arms around her carefully, cradling her as he shadowsteps them home, to the lair in Atlanta. “Even so far away…”

~~**~~
(A/N2: yes, the words of the ritual in the last section are all from NIN songs.)

story status: incomplete

weakness (fic)

Sun, 18 May 2008 16:57:12 GMT

The sun filters through the shades, making me squint as it strikes my eyes. Fuck. I hate mornings, even if they do come at 3pm. My eyes don’t want to focus, and I feel like I've been packed in cotton wool. There's a foul taste in my mouth, and my nose wrinkles slightly as I kick back the sheets, scent of unwashed skin wafting up at me.

I'm not sure how many days we've been here; its all one long blur. We fight, we fuck, we drink, we pass out, we repeat. You're still asleep, face down on the mattress beside me. You mutter something in your sleep, disturbed by my moving off the bed, but you don’t awaken. Good.

I stumble to the shower, turning the water as hot as I can stand it before stepping under the needling spray. I soap up and rinse off quickly from habit, then just stand there under the water, letting it wash over me, rinsing away more than just the grime. It rinses away the fuzziness too, the cobwebs caused by too much booze, too many drugs, and too much you.

I love you. Every breath in my body, every beat of my heart belongs to you. It always has, since the first time we met, the first time we connected. You're in my blood. Part of my soul. But you're killing me.

It's never enough for you. You have to always push the boundaries. One more round of beers. One more line of blow. One more crazy-ass stunt that might get you killed. I wonder sometimes, is it bravery and bravado on your part, or do you really have a death wish without the balls to do it yourself?

I close my eyes, tilting my face up into the hot water, luxuriating in the feel of being clean. Have you looked at me lately? I mean really looked at me? There are times in the past few months when I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror. This excess, this relationship - it's killing me a piece at a time. I'm disintegrating before your eyes and I don’t think you care.

I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around too-thin hips and shaking the long hair out of my eyes. I can hear you in the next room, moving around. I take a deep breath, square my shoulders and step through the doorway. This is it, I'm going to tell you its over for the last time. I can't do this anymore.

You're standing in the middle of the room, the damned sunlight catching your pale skin and making you look almost beautiful. Your eyes light up, the same way they have lit up a million times before for me, and that smile curves your lips, the tiny little grin you save for when we are alone. Fuck. I falter, looking at the floor as I try to make the words come.

You pad over on silent bare feet and wrap yourself around me from behind, hugging me close. My eyes close, and I breathe you in, catching the faintest hint of the innocent boy I fell in love with beneath the endless nights of sex and drugs permeating your skin. I'm as addicted to you as you are to the need to always be on top.

You turn us to face the mirror over the dilapidated dresser. I turn away, looking away over your shoulder, not wanting to see us in the shadowed reflection. You smirk, knowing why I turn away, your blue eyes drinking in the sight of us together.

"Mine." Your whisper skates over my skin, making me shiver. Despite everything, the touch of your hands on my skin still makes me overheat. I can't help the little groan of assent that finds its way from my lips at your word. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. This is toxic, and I am the one paying the price.

You release me, moving into the bathroom for your own shower, and I just lean there against the dresser, my eyes closed tight now. I listen to the water running, and the sounds of you humming to yourself. Like an automaton, I shrug into last night's dirty jeans and scrounge a t-shirt from the spilled contents of a suitcase. I don’t know if it's one of mine or one of yours, and to be honest it doesn’t matter.

By the time you come out of the bathroom, I am already two beers ahead of you. Maybe if I drink enough, I'll find the strength to tell you it's over. But not today.

A/N: a bunny thats been kicking around since i saw this pic of the boys. maybe its just me, but ville's expression seems lost, and bam's is bordering on evil intent:

Searching for a fic....

Fri, 16 Nov 2007 03:10:15 GMT

This is like a needle in a haystack.

I read an old fic last year sometime and now cant remember the author or site i read it on. might have been one of the LJ communities, might have been one of those fic archive sites. i lost my links to it and most of my tagged stories/sites/etc. when my laptop died earlier this summer.

anyhow....a lot of people on my friends list read/write this lovely stuff and have a presence in several communities, so maybe one of you can point me in the right direction.

it was a bam/ryan/novak story - novak would have nightmares, shakes, etc related to his drug situation and would sometimes come to bam's room at night. bam would let him in and let him sleep there, keeping him safe through the night. bam and ryan were a couple in the story, and it was mostly about ryan coming to realize what bam was doing, the quiet comfort he gave novak, and it eventually ended up being both of the giving novak shelter in the night from himself.

it wasnt very long, either a one-shot or maybe a 2-part, i cant remember, but it was beautifully written. any help in ferreting out where i found it would be muchly loved. =)

WOOOHOOO, Part Deux =)

Wed, 07 Nov 2007 00:21:14 GMT

Its official - Helldone 3-day pass has been achieved - more or less...~L~

first off, Wells Fargo Bank, may i say, with all due respect...FUCK YOU. meh. they are evil, evil people. the day helldone tix went on sale, i called them and told them i would be making the purchase of tickets, gave them tiketti's name, etc - all that happy crap so that the purchase would be preauthorized and i would have no problem since tiketti opened at 1am my time, way after the bank is closed. they told me no problem, have a nice trip, blah blah blah.

1am comes, i begin clicking tiketti like a speed freak, managed to get on a ticket page, and had my card denied. three times. so in sheer desperation, i altered my order and did the email invoice option to reserve a ticket.

a screaming phone call to the bank when they opened revealed that someone didnt do their job and the finland purchase was not pre-authorized like i asked it to be and because it was for concert tickets, it was flagged for fraud and the card denied. stupid bastards. by the end of the call, they are aware of my travel plans, extended my daily credit limit on the card, and pre-authorized me for the entire time i am going to be in finland and belgium. i have since called them back twice to confirm the pre-auth for my trip. not that i dont trust them, but yeah. i do NOT want to be in finland trying to call them here in the states because they are declining my card for fraud again.

back to helldone. so i ended up doing the email invoice thing around 2am friday morning. i expected to get the email invoice right away, but nothing. Saturday and nothing. Sunday and nothing. i was beginning to panick, thinking i did it wrong, and i was not getting tickets at all. so i came up with my back up plan B: purchase the individual tickets still available for helldone day 1 and 2, slit my wrists over missing HIM on day 3, purchase a ticket to see Hanoi Rocks who is also doing a new years eve show in helsinki, get very drunk and cry over HIM the remainder of the trip.

then i got a phone call from a friend in canada who saw on some message board that email invoice tickets which were not paid for would be going back up on tiketti for sale either tuesday or wednesday of this week, she couldnt remember which board, but she'd get back to me. so - i delayed buying the plan B tickets and god, am i glad i did!

monday afternoon, i got the email invoice from tiketti - 1 3-day pass for helldone, in my name, waiting to be paid for!! there was much screaming and jumping up and down and snorgling of my kitties' tummies in gleeful celebration. then it struck me - the invoice says nothing about HOW to make payment. no link to click to use a credit card, no address to send a check.

a very nice lady name mirta from tiketti answered my email with the speed of light and explained how it works to me. apparently, the only way to make payment with the email invoice is with a wire transfer from my bank to theirs. nifty. so i went to the bank today, made the wire transfer, and emailed tiketti the confirmation number for the wire transaction. now i am just waiting to hear from tiketti that they recieved the transfer of funds and are sending my tickets.

imagine my surprise at the bank when they informed me there was a $30 + tax fee for making an international wire transfer. imagine their surprise when i refused to pay it because it was their screwup in the first place that led me to having to do the transaction this way. the bank manager saw it my way and waived the fee. smart move. had they not, i would have called their main branch customer service when i got home and raised hell - had the first person who said they would take care of the pre-auth done their job properly, i would have used my card and charged the ticket the night it went on sale instead of all this monkeying around trying to figure out if i even have the tickets, let alone an additional $30+ in bank fees.

so...we are down to the wire...all i need now is email confirmation from tiketti that they are in receipt of the wire transfer, and i am golden.

btw - totally off-topic, but good god - the dollar sucks compared to the euro right now! 115,50 euros for the ticket came out to just over $174 USD.

WOOHOOOOOOO!!

Mon, 29 Oct 2007 20:14:04 GMT

ok, i know i should have saved the big woohooooo for when i have helldone tickets, but i's too excited to wait..~L~

i has helsinki tickets!!! in my hot grubby lil hands at this very moment!!! the nice man from fedex just delivered them to me, and they are sitting right here on my desk, looking so very pretty and yummy and making me just wanna do the happy white girl dance or something..~L~

and yes, i am equally aware that tickets can be had over the internet through your mail, but apparently the leg of my trip from helsinki to brussels is on a carrier who does NOT do that, so all the tickets had to be mailed to me. is ok. there is something vicerally satisfying about being able to actually hold tickets in my hand that have my name on them and helsinki as a destination!

now...to lock them away with my passport so they do not get lost or mutilated (thanks, kittehz...grrrr) and try not to hyperventilate before i can get tickets for helldone....

i must have been a very very good girl this year. =)

YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fri, 26 Oct 2007 04:19:34 GMT

i am so excited right now, i could bust! i went ahead and bought my tickets for finland and belgium this evening, and booked myself into the hotel i wanted in helsinki. i still dont have tickets for helldone, but they go on sale on monday (at least according to the website!), and i plan on being online to grab them the minute they are available.

as an alternate, if the helldone tickets fall through, i found out that hanoi rocks is having some new years eve thing in helsinki too, and those tickets are available now as well. so either way, its helsinki for new years, and a decent show!

i've been wanting to go to helsinki and to helldone for about 3 years now, and to finally be doing it is just amazing. i still wish that mr. cali was coming with me, but with or without him, i am going to have an awesome time.

the belgian part of the trip has me just as excited as helsinki - i am finally going to get to see D in person!! after so long with the emails and phone calls, i'm really psyched to be able to make plans to sit and talk face to face.

what a fantastic way to kick off the coming new year - all is right in my world! (at least in this moment...~L~)

Fun with Bands

Mon, 08 Oct 2007 00:18:53 GMT

1. Choose a band / artist and answer ONLY in titles of their songs:
The 69 Eyes

2. Are you male or female:
"One-Shot Woman"

3. Describe yourself:
"Gothic Girl"

4. How do some people feel about you:
"Too Sick For You"

5. How do you feel about yourself:
"Blind for Love"

6. Describe ex-boyfriends/girlfriends:
"1-800-Sleazorama"

7. Describe current boyfriend/girlfriend/crush:
"You're Lost, Little Girl"

8. Describe where you want to be:
"Next Stop Paradise"

9. Describe how you live:
"Wasting the Dawn"

10. Describe how you love:
"Burning Love"

11. What would you ask for if you had just one wish:
"Forever More"

12. Share a few words of Wisdom:
"Wrap Your Troubles In Dreams"

13. Any general advice:
"Don't Turn Your Back On Fear"

14. Share a favorite pickup line:
"Only You Can Save Me"

15. And if that one doesn't work:
"Lay Down Your Arms, Girl"

16. Now say goodbye:
"Call Me"

postsecrets

Fri, 28 Sep 2007 05:16:30 GMT

i got my copy of postsecrets by frank warren today. all i can say is wow. there is some pretty cool artwork in there and some pretty damn interesting secrets.

interesting enough that it inspired me to make my own postcard to send in. which i did.

i have to admit, the temptation to name the person the secret is about on the card was very very hard to resist. but in the name of anoniminity, i didnt. so now i have a secret adrift in the world. kinda a neat feeling. =)

Still Alive....

Fri, 21 Sep 2007 12:04:41 GMT

I'm back...i think....~L~ its hard to say for sure, but at least for a few days, i have time to breathe and attempt to catch up on all the stuff i missed here on LJ. for the record, may i say holy crap, there is a lot of new stuff for me to read between _vam, valo daily, bam_ryan_otp, and people's individual entries!!

as for where i have been - whew, its been a bumpy ride. my grandmother passed in july, so in mid-august, i made the trip across country (new mexico to massachusetts) to be home for her memorial service and the interment of her ashes in her family's grave plot. it felt weird to be around so many family members after living away for so long - 77 people showed up for the family dinner after the service! i havent seen that many of my relatives in one place since the last family reunion i went to when i was 15. it was good to see everyone, but a little overwhelming.

when i got back to new mexico, the person i'd been living with for the last 8 years let me know he was moving out of state for a new job. he said i was more than welcome to come along, but i decided to stay put here for a while longer. it was a little tough dealing with him moving out, but its all good. we talk daily, and chances are that after the new year, i will be heading to ohio (where he is) and moving back in with him. i just wanted a little space and time to be on my own before making another cross country move after leaving new york just in february.

i've also started nutrisystem (which, i am happy to say, tastes a hell of a lot better than what i expected), and finished up another of those killer work phases. a friend of mine from california came out on vacation for a few days, so we did a lot of sight seeing, a spa day, a hike on the mountains around the city here, the state fair, several clubs, and a lot of driving. he went home on wednesday of this week, so i am finally able to just sit and get online for a bit. the quiet wont last, though - my parents are coming out here to visit in a few weeks.

i'm still planning on finland for new years, altho i might add a few days to the end of the trip in belgium - i have a friend there who invited me to visit, and its really not all that much more airfare to add the side trip. i've signed up with tiketti in finland for info on when helldone tickets go on sale so i dont miss it. would suck to not get tickets and be there in helsinki for that week without seeing HIM.

and now the fun stuff.... =)

You're on my friends list. I'd like to know 27 things about you.

Just copy and hit reply and paste in the comments section with answers. Thanks! You'll be surprised how much you didn't know about your friends after this! Then copy the meme and see if anyone answers you.

1. Do you have a tattoo?
2. How old are you?
3. Are you single or taken?
4. Eat with your hands or utensils?
5. Do you dream at night?
6. Ever seen a corpse?
7. George Strait or Jay Z?
8. How did we meet?
HERE COMES THE EQUALLY INTERESTING PART...
9. What's your philosophy on life and death?
10. If you could do anything with me, and have no one know, what would it be?
11. Do you trust the police?
12. Do you like Country music?
13. What is your fondest memory of me?
14. If you could change anything about yourself what would it be?
15. Would you cheat?
16. What do you wear to sleep?
17. Have you ever peed in a pool?
18. Would you hide evidence for me if I asked you to?
19. If I only had one day to live, what would we do together?
20. Which do you prefer - short or long hair?
21. Do you sing in the shower?
22. What's your favorite color?
23. If you could bring back anyone that has passed, who would it be?
24. Tell me one interesting/odd fact about you?
25. What was your first impression of me?
26. Have you ever done drugs?
27. Will you post this so I can fill it out for you?

love makes the world go 'round....

Wed, 12 Sep 2007 02:40:59 GMT

If there are one or more people on your friends list who make your world a better place just because they exist, and who you would not have met (in real life or not) without the Internet, then post this same sentence in your journal.

((thank you to ms. nimeni_on_irene for having the sentiment in her journal - its nice to say thank you and you're appreciated to the people who matter to us now and then))

finland, beware....

Fri, 10 Aug 2007 19:04:33 GMT

...i'm coming to party!!

its pretty much all set now - i am going to be in helsinki for new years! current plans are to fly out of the states on either the 26th or 27th of december, and play in the snow in helsinki until the 2nd or 3rd of january. not sure if i am travelling alone or with a companion, but i am definitely going to try to get tickets for helldone either way.

its a bloody long flight, from what i have seen checking the airlines - Albuquerque, New Mexico to Denver, Colorado to San Francisco, California to Frankfort, Germany to Helsinki - over 26 hours travel time each way, including the time spent lurking in airports waiting for connecting flights.

i have narrowed the search to 2 travel packages, both including hotel accomodations in helsinki for the week i will be there, but....i have no idea where the hotels are located in relation to the airport or tavastia or anything else for that matter...~L~ i checked the maps the hotels provide, but yeah - with no finnish linguistic skills and even worse map reading skills, its pretty much a case of "oooh, look at the pretty street names"! both packages also offer a 3-day pass thingy for use of free public transportation,entry into museums, etc. i am thinking that might come in handy as well.

i'd kind of like to be centrally located to fun things to do - clubs, shopping, restaurants, but i dont want to have to rent a car while i am there (bad driver + winter conditions + lots of drinking = dead tourist), so if anyone out there knows, before i decide which package (and which hotel) i am going to book, please, i beg you...recommendations for one place over the other would be appreciated! the two hotels are Holiday Inn Helsinki City West or Hotel Arthur.

Pon Zi Vam....oooh.....

Wed, 11 Jul 2007 23:23:26 GMT

not the best/cleanest photo manip i've done, but not bad for 15 minutes =)

i adore pon and zi, the lil emo couple...they are too cute for words, and sometimes the pics their artist does just gives me warm vammie feelings...so...i helped flesh out the missing bits of the boys..~L~

my heart is heavy...

Thu, 21 Jun 2007 08:19:24 GMT

found out a friend has cancer today. they think its infiltrated to his brain. they are going to start radiation therapy on the 3rd, maybe chemo after that. i dont even know how i feel, this came so out of the blue. i'm angry as fuck that he has to deal with this. i'm angry that he is sick. and i am so, so fucking sad. i want to cry for him because i know he wont, but i cant. my eyes burn and fill, but the tears dont spill.

fuck.

salvation (fiction)

Thu, 07 Jun 2007 05:24:42 GMT

usual disclaimers, vam, no sex, razorblades, you know the drill =)

((AN: Fucking hell. I skipped the first paragraphs when I posted this last night. Thats what I get for posting when I am tired. So sorry...~F~))

I looked good tonight. The crowd loved me, all smudged eyes and sinful lips. If they only knew the truth, that I was nothing more than a scared little boy inside. If they only knew the price every smile cost, every photo op, every meet and greet. It was even harder knowing you were there watching me. Don't get me wrong, I love you and I can't imagine being without out, but its so hard living up to your expectations sometimes.

They knew my routines by now, and no one questioned when I slipped away a half hour into the after show party and headed to my room. This was my time. Every show, every news conference, without fail - I'd slip off for some "me time". They thought I spent it meditating or just unwinding. They had no idea. I could feel myself getting more impatient as I made my way down the hall, room key in hand. I hadn't seen you at the party and part of me wondered where you were, but when I pushed the door open, thoughts of you fled my mind.

As I heard the click of the lock on the door, I could feel the need inside reaching critical mass. I went straight into the bathroom, tearing off my shirt as I passed through the small room, not seeing anything but my makeup bag perched on the edge of the sink. Tonight had been especially hard, and my hands were shaking even before I got the bag open. I couldn't find what I was looking for and dumped the contents out into the sink, a terse little swear slipping past my lips in a voice I barely recognized as mine. It had to be there, I knew I'd tucked it away in its little silver case after using it last night. The tears started to fill my eyes as I pawed through the assorted bottles and tubes, spilling them every which way as the tiny silver box remained elusive.

"Ahem." I froze at the sound, my back stiffening and my eyes closing tight. Fuck no. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Please. I turned, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror as my eyes opened to meet yours. I looked like a crazy man, wet cheeks and wild hair, eyeliner tubes clenched in one hand. You held up the little silver packet, and calmly extracted the razorblades it held, dangling them before my eyes. "Looking for these?"

I didn't say anything, suddenly nerveless fingers dropping the slender kohl pencils to the floor. I didn't have to say a word, it was written all over me. Carved into my flesh, visible where my shirts normally hid it. Row after row of delicate cuts, some old, some new. My eyes skittered away from yours, but like a puppet on a string, my hand lifted, turned palm up, waiting for you to give me my redemption. After a long moment, when you didn't hand over the tiny blades, I forced myself to look at you. The disgust on your face hit me with more force than your fist ever could have.

You looked at the blades in your hand, and one by one dropped them back into the tiny silver case, the tiny ring of metal on metal a death knell to my ears. You were so calm, so matter-of-fact as you slid the case into your pocket, then reached out to trace a finger over the newest marks on my chest. When you finally spoke, I could barely stand the sound of your voice, the barely hidden heartbreak in its depths.

"You promised me no more. You promised you were done with this."

I opened my mouth to speak, with no idea what I could say, but you stopped me with a shake of your head.

"I love you and I can't watch you destroy yourself like this. I told you before - I will always be here for you, but I can't stand here and let you keep hurting yourself." You pulled the case from your pocket, tossing it lightly in your hand, then placed it carefully on the edge of the sink, as if it could bite you. "I can't make you stop. You have to do it because you want to change." I stepped closer, and you backed away, the look in your eyes making me want to scream if i could have taken a breath. I closed my eyes, willing the tears back, and didn't open then again until I heard the door unlock and open and then close again.

'Bammie..." I was barely able to choke out the word, much too soft for you to have heard even if you were still there. My hand closed over the silver case, opening it automatically, fingers pulling out a blade. The cool feel of the metal broke something inside of me, and I just crumpled to the bathroom floor, the tears falling in earnest now. I cried for you and I cried for me, for what we were losing. I cried for my addiction to the pain, to the stinging kisses of the blade. I cried for the pressures that I felt I couldn't share, for the fears and insecurities that cutting helped to drown out for a little while.

When I was all cried out, I sat there, amid the broken kohl, that tiny blade in my hand. My eyes closed tight, seeing your face. And the blade cut easily, slicing through my flesh, giving me salvation.