by Harold Wall
"Of course not. Lord knows you were though. Hundred years old you maybe, but you still got the body and…bodily functions…"she said casually but with a gleam in her eyes, "of an
eighteen year old man."
Quinn grinned against her hair. He was glad that he had no comment for that, for any that he could come up with would surely earn him a slap in the face and a Christmas evening
alone. After another lapse of quiet time, he murmured, "Then it seems that I am seeing an older woman. You are after all, nineteen." It was true. When they had first met, she had
been seventeen and he, well his body, was eighteen. Now the tables had turned.
Rashel thought about it for a minutes. "You're right. I'm a regular cradle robber," she grinned. As always, he caught her by surprise by cobra quick precision and speed to press his
lips upon hers. She wasn't sure if he did it by impulse, or just to stop her talking. Either way, she always found herself kissing back.
When she pulled back, she forgot what she was saying and simply laid her head on his shoulders. It was just the two of them and he loved it this way. They had been to Christmas
parties, birthday parties, graduation parties…Quinn was happy they were alone, especially now.
"Have you called everybody and told them our Christmas, Kwanza, Hanukah, and holiday greetings?" he asked suddenly.
"No," she answered smoothly, "they already called. Mostly to ask us again if they wanted us to come to their parties. You were off somewhere, and there is still lots of messages on
the answering machine if you want to hear them."
"You want to know what your present is?" He waited until she nodded. "I'm going to let you drive my BMW again." He didn't react to the slight elbow jab at his stomach.
"Oh that! The other car appeared from no where, John. You know I'm a good driver. You were just so possessive of that hunk of metal, you used that tiny accident as an excuse to
have it all to yourself." She was happy though, that she would have transportation now, unlike the six months where she was banned from using it.
"Now, now don't say such harsh words. In my day we only had horses to use and we had to feed them. Hunk of metal indeed…"
Rashel smiled, knowing in a small way she was right. "Did you want a Christmas present from me? I'm sorry, John, I didn't get you one," she apologized, guilt thick in her voice. He
tightened his arms around her.
"Stay here, with me. Keep an old man company. Don't want to be lonely on Christmas night. That will be my Christmas present." Rashel turned to him and sighed. Rashel knew that
her John rarely went so far as a puppy dog face, as most men knew how strong that weapon was, but when he did…she melted. Right into a puddle in his lap.
"Okay," she breathed, hardly aware she was agreeing. Quinn lost the wide eyes and slightly drooping bottom lip to give her another kiss, this time more forceful.
December 25, 1999
Somewhere else in Boston
It had been a beautiful October day. That was the first thing she remembered, and then she recalled the farm they visited. Everything had been perfect, even the deformed, brown
pumpkins made it all picturesque. And they all held hands and laughed, as if one could get lost in the flat field of pumpkin rows. It was such a Kodak moment, her feelings for the memory wavered between nostalgia and disgust.
It was her present to herself. Never mind the stupid sweaters and perfumes from that piece of fluff Brooke, and forget the priceless and expensive trinkets from Hunter. It was all
worthless. But memories weren't worthless at all; they were all she had left. And remembering them was an option she hadn't given herself in a long time, too long.
Mari remembered the time Robby came home from the hospital. Her little brother, with big, wondering blue eyes and shining dark brown hair, almost black. Her father whispered to
her, "Look princess, look. He looks just like you." She agreed very solemnly.
It was now strange to remember that moment. Her brother, a boy she was never related too, bore resemblance to her. That changed as he grew older. His dark hair gradually
lightened, and his eyes remained round, while hers were almond shaped. Nevertheless, people still recognized them as relatives. What a joke.
After all many said Mari tanned very much like a second cousin on her father's side. There was no reason to doubt her heritage. Mari wished she hadn't.
Her mother, Carol Yolken. She too had brown hair, but later on dyed it blonde in her middle aged years. From the age twelve and up, all Mari could remember were argument after
argument with the woman. But before that, they were the best of friends. Maybe that was why they never got along during her teen years.
And her father. He had been Swedish, tall and nothing short of a Viking. A booming laugh that shook the hanging pictures on the walls, but he also had a quiet and reasonable voice
that was just as powerful. Try as she might, Mari could not find single fault in the man. In death, it was hard to find any flaw in anybody one was close to.
And I killed them all, she thought, depressed, in her bed. One o'clock and all she could do was think about the family she formerly belonged to. They didn't lie to her. They
question her motives for every move she made. She learned from Hunter that they truly thought she was a Yolken. He had her switched with their true daughter, so she could grow
up in a happy home. It had been internal agony to laugh with him about her past.
Don't think about that, she ordered herself. Think about the happy things. She thought about picnics, birthday parties, and other familial events before the fire. It was all she had
left.
The wards are set, no need to worry about them," Aradia informed him before he could ask such a stupid question. Although she never showed it, she could become irked just as
everybody else did. But it was not Maiden like.
"Ah…yes, right," Thierry muttered quickly and scanned the area for the slightest problems. Under the circumstances, the Daybreakers were going to need as much comfort that
could be given on a piece of an ice some called an island. Damned Clan island was a fitting name.
From the large rock he was standing on, he saw that the tents were being pitched in a disorganized fashioned, unlike the neat rows Rashel had planned. He stopped himself from
harshly vocalizing his disapproval when he saw why; the terrain was full of the snow covered rocks like the one he was standing on, and the snow probably hid dozens of man sized
pits, all which the builders cleverly avoided. As of late, he hadn't been thinking problems through and therefore fell into embarrassing moments.
"Hannah helped me think," he said aloud, as if offering some excuse to nobody in particular. The few who passed him paid him little attention, because a more important job was at
hand. Preparing for the Final Battle was the only thing that clouded their minds. Thierry remembered himself and left the rock to do what help he could offer.
A moment or two afterward, a small, pixie like girl climbed into the spot her boss had vacated and put a hand to her head in an attempt to block the sun from her eyes.
Thoughtfully, she decided to bend a little on one leg and move the other behind her. There. A living statue. Poppy giggled at her silliness but then resumed at the task at hand.
"Poppy North!" Normally James' voice was anything but startling, but now that it was, Poppy nearly fell from its intensity. Luckily, she landed directly into her soul mate's arms.
"Now is not the time to play games," he reprimanded sternly as he let go. Poppy felt a stab of annoyance and soon it showed on her face.
"For your information. Mr. I Think I Know Everything, I was not playing games. Jez told me to find Warren, because he is needs to unload the food supplies for Section B. Is that all
right with you?" She finished in her best Mari Tybal impression. He winced.
<
br /> "Yes. Sorry, I just thought…sorry," James mumbled. She's not a child idiot, he told himself. Stop thinking she's going to behave like one.
"Better listen to your smarter part of the brain there, honey," Poppy told him with a smile before she caught Warren over his shoulder. "Warren!" James smiled at her fleeting form
before moving to the docks to greet the last of the fighting Daybreakers.
Trent Mapleston was already directing the newcomers to their tents…which was James' job. For a moment Rasmussen was confused at the sight but then remembered he was a few minutes late. Normally, a few minutes hardly counted as late, but now everything was planned up to the second, even the arrival of ships and planes. James was glad Thierry
wasn't around to yell at him. Ever since Hannah's disappearance, their leader had been on edge.
"Hey Trent I'll take over now," he told the boy. Trent nodded and went off to his assigned job. Everybody worked now. Even on breaks, they were restless so helped others who
were still on duty. Being on the Damned Clan Island gave the same feeling that a cemetery gave on Halloween's midnight.
Surprisingly, Keller and Galen were one of the last ones to step onto the dock. Keller and Galen, two of the most brilliant strategists, who should have been at the battle island as
soon as possible, were the last ones.
"She's been feeling a bit…under the weather," Galen explained to James in a subdued voice. They both turned to Keller, who was running to get their luggage, and then running back
with two suit cases in each hand.
"Really?" James was confused but also amused by his friend's definition of "under the weather." Galen gave a shake of his head that suggested that he was just as baffled by his
wife's behavior as James.
"Well, you're going to tent thirty seven in section P. Don't worry, the tents are a lot roomier than they look." With a thanks, Galen left James and helped Keller with the bags.
"Over here," he pointed toward their tents with his head. Keller unceremoniously threw their bags inside the white tent and rolled out her sleeping bag. Galen stood for a moment
outside before following her. He was surprised to see that he could stand without bumping into anything. He was surprised again to see his wife sprawled on her sleeping bag at his
feet. "Keller?" Galen bent down and saw that she was almost asleep.
"Keller, we have to set up the air mattress first. Are you sure you're not sick anymore?" It was a question he had asked many times before, but he also knew he had gotten an
untruthful answer each time.
"Jet lag?" she offered sleepily. Instead of laughing at her attempt of a joke, Galen's brow furrowed.
"Jet lag is the disruption of body rhythms caused by high speed air travel across different time zones. Air travel being the key words there."
"Obviously somebody was bored enough to read Mr. Webster's famous works. Look, Galen, I'm tired. That's all, it's not a huge deal. Aren't you tired?"
"Well, yes…"
"See?" she cut him off. "All we're here to do any way it plan, so they don't need us right now. Just sleep and relax, albeit we're a few days away from an all out battle." Keller felt
no need to try to persuade him; it hardly mattered if she had company in her slumber. Drowsily, she heard a sigh and the lonely flap of the entrance of the tent.
Galen squinted against the sun. Dawn had arrived just an hour before, and turned the dark blue banks of snow into blinding hills of whiteness. The tents offered little shelter,
considering they were the same shade. Funny, he had never thought he would need sun block on an ice cube of an island. Everybody had arrived now, all there was left to do was
last minute training, impromptu battle plans, and the antagonizing task of waiting.
December 30, 1999
This was it, the big showdown. Mari walked silently to the top of the snow hill and observed the Night World army below. Many were lounging about smoking, drinking, or catching
up with old friends. The vampires, shape shifters, and werewolves didn't mind the cold. Virtually no witches. Everyone showed little sign of worry. There was no doubt in their minds who would win against the pathetic goody goodies. Only the older and wiser citizens pondered the outcomes of the Final Battle.
Somewhere across the vast and blank island, Circle Daybreak was camped out also. But in there camp, there would be warmer tents, more fires, and anxiety. Thoughts of loved
ones so very far away.
They shouldn't be here, she thought with quiet desperation. They know what happens when they only have three Wild Powers, they know… It's certain, it's finalized, without me they
die. They should be with their families, not freezing on an island just to die a brutal death the next day.
"But at least they're trying," she spoke quietly. Mari hoped nobody would hear her. Somewhere, deep down inside her, so deep inside she wasn't sure if her soul mate had seen it,
she was struggling. Maria wanted so badly to run to Circle Daybreak's side and cry a million words of apology. It was eating her up, slowly burning her from inside out. She knew
she had a chance to stop all the pain now, to prevent the deaths now. But…Mari let out a sob, letting no tears run from her eyes. Feelings of loss, emptiness, the feelings of despair
and worthlessness beat and battered her attempts of redemption.
Nothing, her internal monsters would say, nothing you can do. You're just a pawn to stop the mad and corrupt world. You're nothing don't try to stop what you're meant to be. You
came from a nobody you are a nobody; there's nothing you can do…
God, she had tried to stop listening but it was her mind. It was her mind, the one thing that kept her alive in the cruel world all this time and she always listened to it. Proof was all
around her. Beautiful supernatural people who looked so wonderful and trustworthy, only hiding a core of evil and deceit in their hearts. The good were the weak and tomorrow they
were going to be devoured by evil. Any true goodness and pure hearts were destroyed because they carried cumbersome consciences and moral judgments. Mari didn't want to live
in a world where the surviving fittest was evil. The good would never win.
Same day
Briar Creek Oregon
"This is the first time I've been afraid of a New Year." Mary Lynnette jumped at the sound of Mark's voice. She hadn't heard him approach the top of the hill. He sat next to her on
the car trunk.
"I try not to be afraid, you know," he continued when she didn't respond. "I try to say to myself, the good guys will win, they always do. But then I think of Jade and how strong she
is…if the bad guys are stronger than her, we don't stand a chance."
Mary Lynnette looked down from the gray sky and studied her brother. In some ways, he was no different from the little boy scared of the world. Scared of the bad people in it and
hurrying to her side when troubled. But this time it was different. Mary Lynnette didn't have a solution to his problems just as she always did in the past. Mark knew that but still
came to her on her special hill.
"Mary Lynnette!" He snapped suddenly. "God, I mean I know that now you have a soul mate you can't talk to me about things but you don't have to give me a silent treatment when
something important comes up. You" he paused, shrugging with a helpless air, "you never talk to me any more. We used to discuss important things with each other and how we
were going to solve it together but now…" He shrugged again and put his head in his hands. "Now, I just want to have a real conversation with my only sister before the world
ends."
Suddenly it became so clear to her. For the past year or so, she had let Mark deal with matters himself, so she could adjust to the arrivals and departures of the man who made her
whole. He grew up, but still needed her. Despite any changes, de
spite all the ordeals the two shared together and apart, one thing would always stay the same: Mary Lynnette was
his big sister and she would take care of him no matter what.
Taking a deep breath, she said what she thought she should say to her scared younger brother. "Mark, the world won't end."
"Really?" If it was a lie, she didn't care. As long as it kept him safe and happy, she would do it or say it.
Las Vegas Nevada
"When is my big brother coming home?" The little boy, Simon "Simba" Savannah, looked up at Gillian with big brown eyes. It was the first time after their story telling, Twister
contest, and SEGA tournament that the children began to wonder where the grown ups fled to. Some of the older kids knew they were off to "negotiate worldly matters," and, since
they were sworn to solemn secrecy, spread the ambiguous knowledge to the younger gullible children.
Gillian opened her mouth to ask who exactly his brother was but sighed. It didn't matter; if he wasn't helping with the children, he was most likely off to Gilligan's Isle.
"Didn't you hear the rumor of negotiating worldly matters?" she asked him, hoping to give an answer without lying. He nodded.
"But Lionel says that I shouldn't listen or spread rumors because 'they only leave you alone on Saturday nights.'" Gillian smiled as he quoted his older brother's words of wisdom.
"Well, Simba, sometimes the truth can hurt just as much rumors do. Let's just say your brother is going to a very important meeting."
"What's the meeting about?" He asked as she rose to leave. Gillian wondered worriedly if there were any more inquisitive eight year olds.
"The meeting is about people's rights, or so to speak." He looked puzzled, and then he lit up with realization.
"You mean like freedom of speech?" More like freedom for humans in general. She nodded and he ran off to show off his news to his friends.
There were less elder witches than expected, for although aged, most of the witches were more powerful than some dragons and were needed at the battle site. More Daybreakers
had to be called in to baby sit the children. Thankfully the children cooperated obediently, even waking up early to make breakfast and bathe themselves. Unfortunately, she had to
