by Harold Wall
"I've fought before."
"With what, a three legged dog?"
"As a matter of fact, it just so happens…" It was at that point when she lunged at Ash. Mary Lynette barely had enough time to jump out of the way when they crashed into the
ottoman. Rowan, Jade, Mark, and Mary Lynette silently watched them for a few minutes, then ten, then twenty, until Jade spoke quietly.
"Ash shouldn't have said that. Nobody questions Kestrel's fighting ability." Mary Lynette and Mark somberly nodded in agreement.
Ash pinned Kestrel on the floor, which was how he won the last fight. She met his eyes, which were now a startling black. Kestrel looked over at Mary Lynette and gave a sudden
smile. She pushed herself down from under him and kicked him in the knees. Then she pushed him off and landed a hard one in his stomach.
It looked like Ash couldn't decided whether to hold his stomach or his knees. He knew he was lucky, Kestrel wasn't really trying to hurt him.
"This was sort of an example of how siblings fight each other, training for real life. Like baby wolves," Jade chirped, not at all disturbed by the brawl.
Kestrel stood over Ash and, without saying a gloating word or sending a bragging thought, held out her hand. With a dark look, he accepted it and she helped him up.
"A few years ago, I wouldn't have been able to done that. We'll discuss this tomorrow." And nobody said a word to object.
December 12, 1999
Las Vegas, Nevada
"They said yes!" Even through the phone, Delos could see Maggie's beautiful smile. He laid back in his bed, and began folding a piece of paper he found under his bed. Delos always
had to keep his hands busy when Maggie went back home.
"Are you sure I won't be intruding? I know Christmas is a family time…"
She sighed, making static in his ear. "Delos, my family has been dying to have you over since last summer. After all, you only met them once before and two weeks aren't nearly
enough. Besides, Christmas isn't the only time I'll need you. I have my Winter Ball, remember?"
"When is that?" he asked, naturally depressed at the prospect of milling around in an uncomfortable tuxedo for four hours.
"December twentieth. When are you going to leave?"
"Tomorrow. And, after Christmas in the Neely household, I'll leave for the island December twenty sixth. How is Miles?" There was pause. A long pause. "Maggie?"
"He told Mom and Dad yesterday."
"Told them what?" Delos guessed the paper was forming into some kind of flower; that or an ornately folded ball of paper.
"He told them that occasionally he sprouts wings so he could go to the mall. Yup," she said when he didn't answer, "jumped right outta the shifter closet."
It was his turn to pause. But he didn't want to draw it out. "How did they take it?"
"Well, first they were laughing like crazy. Then, when Miles kept telling them it was true, they thought he was crazy. When I told them it was true, they thought both of us had gone
nuts. Dad was ready to call the medical help he thought we needed when Miles played show and tell."
Delos laughed. Maggie always made the most serious of situations comical.
"Then they just had to believe us. Problem was, Mom started thinking she passed some deformed gene down to him and was afraid I was going to catch it. As if being a hawk was
contagious!"
Delos looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. "So what did you tell them?"
"Weeeeeeell…he told them what how it happened. He told them about Sylvia, and I told them about meeting you and consequently…"
Delos finished for her. "They know I'm a vampire. I thought you said they've been dying for my visit?"
"They are," she quickly assured. "They're just going to look at you in a whole new light. Delos…it's not like they're afraid or disgusted with you or anything. Curious maybe, but just
because they know you're a vampire doesn't mean they're going to treat you like a freak. Otherwise, Miles would be in the streets right now."
Delos didn't really know her parents, so he couldn't really argue. "You know better than I do."
"Of course I do. Hold on wait." Delos knew that meant somebody was going to get her off the phone somehow, it was the only way to make her stop. "Miles has to call a girl. Her
name is Cassia," she whispered in a scandalous voice. In the back round, Delos heard Miles yelling at her.
Delos didn't blame him, they'd been talking for three hours. "Give me all the details about his new girl later."
"All right, oh wait I can't. Dad says I've been talking too much on the phone, so he's limited me to two calls a day."
"That's okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow, then."
"Love you."
"Love you too. Bye."
"Bye."
Delos hung up. He rose from the bed, and walked to the closet. He supposed spending time with Morgead has influenced him, because the floor of the closet was completely
covered with dirty laundry. Morgead's pile was much taller though.
"Hey, Delly."
"Hello Jezebel."
"It's Jez."
"Well then, it's Delos. Is there anything you need?" Delos decided everything on the hangers were clean and began to throw the shirts into the suitcase on his bed.
"I came here to tell you that you can't use that suit case."
Delos took all of his clothes in his arms, walked over to the suitcase, and dumped it all in. "Why not?"
She walked over to him. "Because when you zip it up like so and then carry it like this," she held it up by the handle. The zipper suddenly broke loose and all his clothes came
tumbling out. "The front part can't handle it. I came over to tell you that you could use mine or Morgead's."
"Hmm, let me think. Yours, the white one with red and pink roses over it, or Morgead's simple, black one. It's just so hard to decide…" Jez made a face at him.
"Okay, he said you could get it in his closet." Delos gathered his clothes from the floor and listened to Jez's footsteps down the empty hall. Just a few weeks earlier, he couldn't
listen to hers without hearing half a dozen other friends walk down the hall. But more and more of the Daybreakers were leaving recently, leaving Las Vegas to go to some quaint
little town where their family lived. The last good byes. Delos wasn't doing exactly the same thing, but he was hoping to become part of a family once he left the Neely's.
"Delos." He turned at the soft voice and crossed the room to kiss Hannah's hand. She was, after all, the Lady of the mansion and deserved the respect a woman of authority. Delos
couldn't understand why the other men didn't do the same.
"Lady Hannah," he said formally but warmly.
Hannah opened her mouth, and Delos expected her to protest at his address, but she seemed to be concerned with something else. "Delos, may I speak with you for a moment?" He
nodded.
"About the Final Battle," she started as she sat down on his bed. "I know that Thierry said that those with fighting experience are the only ones allowed to go…"
"For a good reason," he cut in.
"I have to. You don't understand, if I could just get to Mari…"
"She'd kill you in a snap. Lady Hannah, she didn't cooperate when she was with us, why the hell would she cooperate when she's with the enemy?"
Hannah waved her hand in the air as if sweeping all reason he just told her out of the way. "But, if I could just talk to her for a moment …"
"What will you do? Now, mind you, I'm just humoring a hopelessly hopeful woman."
"Talk to her. Not just talk to her, but…talk. Oh, you just don't understand!" Hannah exclaimed impatiently when Delos kept the "humoring the hopelessly hopeful woman" look.
"Oh, I understand perfectly. You think you're going to have a little chat with the sweet Mari while our people get slaughtered. Listen, I know you think the best of people, and yo
u may even think that everybody has a little good in themselves. But not everybody does. And even if Mari did have that irritating conscience in her mind, it died when Dorian
betrayed her."
Hannah almost believed him. Delos knew everything about logic, psychology, and analyzing people and their situations. Because of his upbringing as a weapon, his mind as sharp as
a honed knife. Ninety nine percent of the time he was correct about those matters. But not this time.
"Delos, you can look at her hand and tell me about her breakfast. You could tell me about her whole life in two seconds. But what you can't do is tell me what's going on in her mind. Nobody has any idea why she's hiding all the time."
Damn, he thought. She's using that Old Soul wisdom trickery thing. "Hiding?"
"Don't you see it? If I could just talk to her, or even for just five minutes, maybe I could understand. I want to understand her, Delos. Mari can't even figure out for herself what's making herself so miserable."
"How would you know that? Maybe something's made her change. Every day, Night World citizens go to the Day World and there are those humans who go to the Night World. Mari
Tybal first came to the Night World, and she's going to stay with them."
"Delos, have an open mind…"
"I can't. Looking at everything's that happened…" He threw up his arms, not finishing the sentence. Delos wasn't angry, he never got angry with Hannah, but as always there was
that sense of despair at the world.
"Delos, please help me. I know Jez won't help me because she is more stubborn than you. Iliana would be too afraid. I need you, not as a wild power, as a friend. Please help me."
For the briefest of moments, Delos appeared torn, making Hannah hope just a little bit. "But if you die, Thierry…"
"Thierry would accept my death, and wait patiently for my rebirth. True, he would experience grief…"
"I don't want to cause that grief," he interrupted gruffly.
"You won't, I will. Delos, if you're going to help me, we're wasting time now. And if you're not, then I'll find a way. If there's one thing I got, it's determination."
Delos thought. He sat so still, Hannah, if she were a stranger, would mistake him for a well painted statue.
"Let me here your proposal, and I'll think about it."
Thirteen days. It had been thirteen days since she last spoke with him. She had concluded and contradicted herself at who was at fault, but looking at all the facts, Mari knew it was
herself. She, after all, had sought him out. And with each passing day, she wasn't certain if her emotions was healing or deteriorating. When Mari returned to the mainland, she was
simply livid. Not thinking clearly at all, she drove every which way until dawn. By some miracle, she found her way back home and slept. Then all she did was sit and think, going
out only when she was on the verge of blood lust.
Every word that had been spoken that night was painful, but true. Neither of them wanted to admit it. In a sense, Mari did sometimes consider herself equal to humans and above
vampires. But what he said about her mother…Mari would never become accustomed to that. It seemed impossible that the gentle, loving woman in her memories would sell her
body to strangers.
Hunter had worried she was becoming withdrawn and had literally bought her a friend. Brooke something, who Mari guessed was brought embarrassment to the family one way or
another and becoming her friend was the only way to climb her way up on the social ladder. Each time the bubbly, yet artificial red head tried to call or visit, Mari always brushed
her off, not at all bothering with the proper etiquette.
The phone rang. Lying idly on the bed, Mari decided to let the machine take it, as it had done to the other phone calls. After a series of beeps, Hunter voice filled the still room.
"Mari, I learned from your friend, Brooke Willow, that you are having problems. What happened? You never answer any calls, and the last I heard from Brooke is that you dismissed
her a week ago. For all I know, I could be talking to your mummified corpse. At least pick up the phone so that I'll know you're alive. After all…"
Mari swiftly rose from the bed and threw the phone across the room, the cord unplugging with it. That ought to show him she was still alive.
Maybe she wouldn't die on January the second. She planned to die at the Final Battle. Originally, she wanted to do so before, maybe on the plane or boat, but then she remembered
she was going to be surrounded by at least a dozen guards. Hunter wanted a thrilling performance to be remembered as the Night World victory. Mari was nothing but a prop.
Nevertheless, the warriors were going to see a show, that was certain. Some people, many of those wise, would say suicide was a coward's death, that it was giving up on life. Mari
believed it wasn't cowardly or defeat at all, for she had died long before she ever knew about the Night World. The warriors, those valiant and those malicious, were going to have
the best seat to the end of the Day World.
December 16, 1999
Los Angeles, California
"BOO!" Poppy jumped out of the closet.
Phil simply looked at her and slowly raised his arms. "Ah."
"Oh you're no fun," she pulled him into the living room. "James, Philip has arrived," she called in her best imitation of Nilsson.
James emerged from his bed room, pulling on a shirt. When she turned to her brother, she saw his eye brows were raised. Maybe it looked like they…
"James spilled coke on his shirt just before you came."
"You spilled it on me. Hi Phillip," he said offering a hand. Her brother eyed it and then shook his hand briefly. Even after all this time, Phil was still a…
"Dork," she finished out loud. "You going to stay for dinner?" Poppy asked.
"What are you having?" he asked, sitting on the couch.
"I'm making pizza," she called, skipping to the kitchen. James sat in the comfy chair across from him.
"She's ordering pizza," James corrected. Phil nodded. As always, an awkward silence filled the room when Poppy left them alone. Both knew how long Poppy took when ordering a
pizza, she always tried to get something everybody wanted.
"So…where is this island?"
"Near Iceland. I can't stop Poppy from going," he added miserably, knowing where the conversation was going to end up.
"I don't want her killed, James," Phil warned him.
"You think I want that? Believe me I've tried everything to make her stay at the mansion, but it seems your sister has a silver tongue when it came to asking Thierry about this."
Phil gave a wry smile at that. "Let's gag her and lock her in some basement," he suggested.
He was only half joking. Here, his little sister was going to fight a battle that would determine the fate of the world in the new millennium, and he was going to sit at home and
twiddle his thumbs. Phil was used to being the stronger one, the athlete. He should be the one trying to protect Poppy, because she was supposed to be a delicate little girl, full of
happiness, sunshine, and all the other mushy stuff older brothers thought of little sisters. Her twinkling green eyes were like a child's to him, and they weren't meant to see all the
carnage and blood of war. But Phil had no way to intervene. And Poppy was a little bit different than the girl he grew up with.
As if reading his thoughts, but Phil knew James wouldn't dare, Poppy's soul mate sighed aloud, "I can't let her see that, Phil. All the gore, and dying people right in front of her…
she's just not used it. But what if she does get used to it? I can't imagine Poppy being ruthless and murderous."
"How was she able to convince Thierry if everybody knows that she's not a killer?"
James concentrated for a moment, trying to remember the conversation. "She may not be a killer, but she can defend herself. It
's instinctive. She…"
"Are you guys talking about me again?" Poppy swept into the room and sat on the floor. Despite the seriousness of the matter, a tiny smile still played on her lips, as if it were a
permanent condition. "Look," she began, losing the good humor. "I know you guys think that I'm…well, not weak, really, but in a way, that's exactly what you think I am. That I'm
just this little angel, too gentle for all this fighting. But it would just be torture for me to sit at home and twiddle my thumbs (no offense Phil I'm sure you'd do more) while my soul mate is out fighting for my whole former species? It's like Superman, he saves people because he has the power to. He uses his fasterthana speedingbullet speed to save people
because…um…what else would he use his power to?"
Phil gave her a look, wavering between stern and amused. Then he turned to James. "Is that what she said to convince Thierry?"
James smiled. "Hmm, something along those lines, except with bigger words and she left the man of iron out."
"Steel," she and Phil corrected simultaneously. Poppy gave a tinkly laugh, and tossed back her red hair. James had to smile.
Poppy looked around, taking in the cozy sight of three young beautiful people just hanging out. "We ought to be models. Or a band, after all you can't go wrong with our looks. We'd
be…um…Super Band!" James laughed harder and Phil put his smiling face in his hands.
"That's a great idea," Phil commented smoothly. "If we survive New Year's Eve, let's hire a manager and publicist."
"We wouldn't be able to afford one. Thierry would have to loan us some money," James added. Poppy stood up.
"Sometimes I think you guys don't ever take me seriously. And what do you mean 'if we survive'? Of course we'll survive, you got to think positive idiot." She walked over to the
couch and punched her brother in the arm. He winced.
"Hey!" Poppy began brightly.
"Hey!" Phil mocked her.
"What did you get me for Christmas?"
"Bubble wrap. And James here got you tissue paper."
"Ha. Ha. Is that a joke or is it a clue? Does that mean you got me something fragile?" Once again, she caused the men to laugh.
The buzzer rang. Poppy left them to go to the intercom and pressed a button. "Who is it?" she asked in her deepest voice.
