Escaping the house itself was easy. Most guests were sleeping, and the servants were being their usual unobtrusive selves. A Gnome bows to him as Keon slips through the shadows cast by moonlight, pointing to an area of pavestones ringed with benches. It is almost as if the creature knew exactly what Keon was seeking. Then again, the blade at his hip and the way he moved could have given it an idea. The Dark Lord was quite sure Mortuis and Silk needed somewhere to sword dance, and knowing Silk, it had to be away from their living quarters. The Gods alone knew what she can do when lost in the Dance.

Standing in the center of the design, Keon takes a moment to gather himself. He eyes the pattern below his feet, noting the five elements of life weaving a great celtic knot. There are stones of green and brown for earth, red and orange for fire, white and pale blues for air, deeper blues and mixed green/blues for water. The spirit stones of black and white marbling are what draw his eyes. He kneels in the center where solid stones of black and white pick out a symbol he has never seen before. Dark fingers trace the image and a sense of stability encompasses his mind.

Rising to his full height with a grace that would take the breath of any watching, Keon draws his blade smoothly. His stance changes slightly, balance shifting to compensate for the added weight of his sword. The Dance begins. His feet slide over the stones, creating a pattern of their own, as his blade moves effortlessly through the air. Moonlight and the subdued focus lighting makes the silver shimmer as if alive. His dark eyes close as he listens to the rhythm of his heart and the quiet sounds of the surrounding night. He cocks his head as he hears a step, then the soft sigh of something ethereal passing. His long dark hair flares out as he turns, adding another soft sound to the night, and another color as the blue strands catch the light. The Dark Sidhe hears the melodies of Nature and Self, embracing them and using them to guide his movements. His final steps bring him to one knee, sword upraised and offered to the Gods.

He opens his eyes to find himself alone, yet feeling as if he had the total attention of someone. Bowing his head, Keon lowers the sword to the stones and weeps, knowing that it is time to mourn the injuries to close friends, and the passing of one of Tannr's true friends.

His words, spoken softly, seem to ripple in the night's stillness.

"Bandia, cabhrú linn ...."


(Goddess, help us....)

May 28, 2:12 a.m. Alex Jeffreys couldn't believe his luck; he'd just left The Brass Ring with the hottest little nymphet in town. She looked almost too young to be legal, but he'd seen her ID, and kids don't have the money for a fake ID that good. He'd started out leading, but now he was following that tight little ass in the Catholic schoolgirl miniskirt. Damn, the girl couldn't be more than a college freshman...! could she?

The drinks he'd had and the sight of her ass bouncing along ahead of him conspired to make him stop thinking almost entirely; Little Head had taken command, Big Head nowhere to be found. She turned back and giggled, her Pepsodent smile inviting. "C'mon, Alex, it's not that much farther." She put an extra swing into her step somehow, the skirt flipping up now and again to show off her thong. Damn, her ass looked good enough to eat!

She stopped at the foot of a flight of stairs. Damn, he hoped he was sober enough to make it all the way up there.... She went up three steps and looked back down. "You comin'?"

"Not quite yet, baby," he leered. From where he stood, he could see all the way up her skirt and the view was terrific. She giggled again. "Come on up and we'll take care of that."

He stayed three steps behind her - all the better to watch her ass - and stopped while she fumbled with the lock. "C'mon in, make yourself at home while I slip into something more comfortable."

The apartment was furnished quietly, real wood furniture with a preponderance of dark nappy fabrics. It was too dark to tell the color, exactly... something like mahogany? Bookshelves covered two walls and a big-screen TV stood right in front of him. He wondered if she'd mind if he checked out the sports scores? Eh, maybe not... don't want to spoil the mood.

She came prancing in in a babydoll and he felt his cock swell and harden. She'd put her hair up in pigtails, tied off with pink ribbons and she looked good enough to eat - which was what he had in mind... very soon....

He jerked when he felt a hand on his collar. Shit, a boyfriend? He turned, ready with his apology - and stared into eyes that seemed lit from within, all yellow-green. He was hauled unceremoniously to his feet and his bladder let go when he saw the jagged bear-trap teeth. The thing had him in an armlock and it led him resistlessly to the bathroom, forced him to kneel over the tub... a quick slash of razor-edged claws and a jet of blood sprang from his throat, staining the white porcelain pink and then red. It held him there until his heart stopped, then gave a negligent wave. The others approached and bore him away to a place where he was prepared and packed away neatly in white butcher paper.


Later....

They all agreed... he was good enough to eat.

The postulate stood with his head bowed, ready to flee at the look on Ardaras face after he delivered his message. Her face contorted in rage, her color going red, then almost purple, her red eyes huge. She slams her fists down on the table, then sends her meal flying across the room, glass shattering and food staining a far wall.

“Half of my forces? Half?! How is that even possible?”

The postulate lifts his head only a fraction. Stammering and his voice barely above a whisper, he attempts to give Ardara the explanation that was given to him by the priest.

Ardara starts to pace as she hears the young Drows words, making the slaves still in the room nervous, knowing her rages and wanting to escape her wrath. She moves back and forth her anger building as she listens. Finally she stops and shrieks, kicking a young boy out of her way.

“My forces were defeated by a group of human trash?”

The postulate ducks as a chair narrowly misses his head and is reduced to kindling on the wall behind him.

“Send me whatever idiots are left that were supposed to be in charge...NOW! I want more of an explanation other than they walked into a trap... MOVE!”

Ardara screams this last word and the postulate runs as if all the demons of hell were after him.


A short time later, a commander and a lower ranking officer slowly approach Ardaras receiving room. Both stop short at the sight of Ardara, her rage palpable, the putrid air almost pulsating with her anger.

Both heads bow, “My lady...”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up and listen to me. I dont want to hear your pathetic excuses. Our forces are severely depleted due to your incompetence. Depleted due to humans... humans....” Ardara shakes her head. “Do I have to lead the forces myself? This is not an acceptable situation...” Ardara starts to pace again.

The soldiers glance at each other, certain Ardara will order their deaths.

“This will not happen again. Or I will make walking into an explosion of iron look like a very minor training exercise. Do I make myself clear?”

Both heads nod, eager to leave before their mistress has a chance to change her mind.

“I will give you some time to rebuild the army. Then we shall speak again... And I will have a mission for you. One that you cannot fail, or you know your fate... And since it involves grabbing some children I trust you will find it easier than this last battle...” Ardara starts to laugh, an insane sound that builds and echos in the rock chamber and sends a chill down the spines of those that hear it.

(Text of an email from Eira to Jack)

Jack -

Sorry I haven't written in a while, things have been hectic here but I've been learning a lot.

From the beginning:

Sibyl realized pretty early on that she couldn't teach me much about spirit possession, so she reached out to an expert. Her name is Jeanette Duval; she's a Vodou priestess from New Orkeans. Incidentally, that is the correct spelling - "Voodoo" is something that was invented by Hollywood; Vodou is a religion.

Anyway... Jeanette is an expert on Vodou, both the Haitian version and our own homegrown flavor. She also has expertise in other Afro-Carribean religions such as Santeria, Candomble, and Palo Mayombe. You'd like her; she's really pretty and about as unpretentious as you can get. She arrived about ten days ago looking like anybody in shorts, sandals and t-shirt. She likes music and dancing - the girl can really move her ass! - ice cream and hot guys and going barefoot, and Saint's nuts about her. When you get past the surface, though, there's a kind of calm, quiet, earthy wisdom about her. She didn't say much the first couple days, just sat in on my lessons with Sibyl, taking my measure, I guess. On the third day, though, she had some specific suggestions for me. See, (I probably should have mentioned this earlier) possession is integral to Vodou, central to it, really, especially in Haiti. In Vodou, the worshipper is possessed by the loa, spirits that are less than gods but more than just human spirits. Hmmm... let me see if I can explain that.

Vodouisants believe in one supreme god that is remote and uninvolved with this world and its people. Below him are the loa, human spirits that have evolved to another, higher level - something like the saints in Christian theology, and especially Catholicism. The loa are involved with the world and its people and they use possession as the medium by which they communicate with their worshippers.

Anyway... I'd been working with Jeanette for a little less than a week. All the experts say the same thing, essentially - let go of your ego, your sense of self and just go with the flow. (I paraphrase, omitting whole volumes of pomposity.) Of course, these "experts" never tell you HOW you're supposed to do this....

Anyway, I was practicing with David (our resident ghost, remember?) and trying out some of Jeanette's suggestions - and David was suddenly inside me, smooth as silk.

 Ummm... that didn't come out quite as intended.... :-)

It was weird... It was like watching TV... I could see and hear, but it didn't seem real, like I was getting it secondhand. I nearly panicked then, but I remembered what Jeanette said, that I'm always in control. And I thought, this is David, he's my friend... and the panic just kind of melted away.

 David stayed in my head for about fifteen minutes that first time, but we kept working at it and I eventually got to where I could "host" him for about an hour. Longer than that isn't healthy; hosting a ghost burns your energy at an amazing rate. I'm always hungry and tired after a sitting.

A couple of days ago, we all went to the cemetery - Sibyl, Jeanette, David and Your Humble Servant - and I opened myself to the spirits. This is the equivalent of putting down a can of tuna in a room full of hungry cats. The dead, as it turns out, don't just want to talk to the living; they want to feel alive again, if only for a few minutes. Most of 'em are pretty nice about it, but there are always a few assholes. (If you were an asshole in life, you'll more than likely be an asshole in the afterlife - do you find that to be true?) There were a couple who didn't want to leave when I said "time's up". I finally had to boot their ethereal asses back to the Great Beyond.

On a more earthly level, I can't wait to be back home - and back in your bed - our bed. No more holding back; I want you so bad I ache with it, and my toys aren't making a dent in it. Whatever you want, lover, however you want it - just ask, and I'll do it.

 I love you, Jack, forever and ever.

Kisses -


Eira

In the darkest hours of the night, Tori sits with Tannr. The love seat is pulled as close to the bed as it can get, her head next to his on the pillow. She would have crawled right in the bed if she wasnt so afraid of hurting him further. Rowan was hesitant in her prognosis, still hopeful but she had said she had never seen anyone lose that much blood and still be alive. It was a miracle that he had survived the surgery.

Tori sighs and sits up. She runs her hand over Tannrs forehead and through the long copper strands. Suddenly she hears the bedroom door open. Tara enters, her bare feet silent on the wood floor, carrying her doll in a matching long nightgown. She pauses at the edge of the bed then looks up at Tori through her dark hair, a gesture so much like her fathers that Tori smiles for the first time in days.

Alise had told her how Tara seemed to know that Tannr was hurt and how extreme her reaction was until Raina came to help.

“Come here you...” and Tori lifts the little girl into her lap. “Cant sleep?”

Tara shakes her head and Tori smooths the dark hair away from her face. She notices the dark circles under the little ones eyes and the haunted look on her face, knowing she must look much the same.

“We'll just wait right here until he wakes up, okay?”

Later Stoney wanders in, in search of his daughter. He smiles to see her curled up with his sister, the pair seeming to find some comfort in each other while keeping their vigil.

Once Ob is safely sleeping and Ike assures Pandora that what he needs now is rest... she lets herself release the emotions she has been holding. She walks the length of the garden to get as far from Ob as she can before she drops into a bench and surrenders to the sobs she has been holding back; she cannot imagine  what Tori must be feeling with Tanner's more dreadful wounds.

Chloe touches her mind... and she assures her that her papa is going to be okay; but he will be sore for quite awhile... she is just crying because she is happy he will be well, and she misses her babies... and hopes they are being good for Laila and the others. The feel of little arms wrapped round her neck touches her heart; and she knows it is Teri... he knows words are not necessary, just letting her know he loves her is enough.

Pandora composes herself and returns to the terrace; stopping to caress the sleeping dragon and gently kiss the rough scaled face... she hears his faint "bruha" from far away... and knows his healing has begun.... she goes inside and slips off her shoes, not bothering to remove her clothes as she lays on the cot near the door; her last conscious act to gaze upon Ob's sleeping form.

The others have gone. Some to rest. Raina and Erik, she knows, are just outside in the hall. Even though Tori knows Tannr is in the best of hands with Mortuis and Rowan, she can't resist mentally touching him for confirmation.

His mind is quite, lost in a realm just beyond sleep, but not quite as close to death as when she first searched him. An image of his battered, dying body slips into her thoughts and Tori shoves it out before it can translate itself to Tannr. She smiles a little and follows his energy, seeking the work that was performed on her lover. She can feel his pain, but knows to take it away would mask things best left to be seen.

Once content to know everything that could be done has been done, the Gargoyle kisses his forehead. Murmuring against his feverish skin she whispers of her love, and that if he doesn't come back to her, she will seek him out in the Afterworlds to kick his Viking ass. Closing her eyes, a stray tear slips from her control.

Her voice cracks slightly as she observes to her comatose lover, "You know, for someone known as the Right Hand of Death, Mortuis has been working very hard to save our assorted hides..."

 "Si... He ees not quite what the world knows of heem."

Tori looks around at the voice. She has rarely seen Ob's cousin as anything but the self assured woman he looks up to. But now the signs of fatigue are unmistakable, as is the worry that adds lines around the Rom/Succubus' darkly exotic eyes. Her casual jeans and T-shirt are also something that Tori has never seen. Silk smiles tiredly.

"Mi Cooza ees resting comfortably as possible. Pandora ees weeth heem for now. She has a spot to sleep where she can see heem when she goes to her rest. We have applied more clay as the first withdrew into the wound. Perhaps another two applications will be needed as well. Malachite ees tending to heem until she weell need to rest as well."

Tori reaches out to touch her sister, her brother, and his mate as Silk checks Tannr's IV. Ob... I am... oh Goddess... I forgot to...

Her brother chuckles, a wince translating through their mental link. Don't. Tannr's care was the more immediate. 

She licks her lips, He wouldn't have this chance if it wasn't for you.  

Thank his men. They got him out, I just kept the thing occupied.

She would have argued, but she knows Ob saw it exactly as he told her. Anyone else hurt? No one else was brought to us.

Ob is silent for several long minutes. We lost Hugh. He went down fighting. They brought his body out though. Tannr has a good team. I am hoping Lily's little present did its magic. and we hear from them soon.

She feels his mind drift as Ike slips something cool along the base of a wing.  

Rest sis.. You won't do him any good if you don't.

Pandora touches Ob's mind, reminding him of the same thing. The love between them is obvious and Ob bends to his wife's will.  

Caio Tori... will look in on you when I am awake...

He fades away, leaving Tori with her thoughts. She reviews the images that were behind Ob's words, seeing the reality of the skirmish. Breathing deep. Tori fights for calm.  

I will not fall apart... I will not fall apart...