Whether it was because she was his soulmate, or the fact that she'd killed his mother, or maybe it was because she was special to him. It could've been a number of things. But
with all the blood on her hands, did it really matter in the way she died?
With a gasp, Emerald woke up to find herself still situated safely in the plane. Most of the people around her were sleeping, the lights dim, the windows closed. There were only a
scattered few that were still awake reading or on the computer.
Emerald hadn't meant to fall asleep. She knew if she did she'd have a nightmare. She was right.
One of the flight attendants noticed her distress and walked over with a warm smile.
"Are you all right, miss?" she asked in a polite, low voice.
It took a moment for the words to comprehend in Emerald's foggy brain. "Um… yeah… yeah—I'm fine." she told the attendant.
"Would you like a pillow or a glass of water?" she persisted.
"Aa glass of water would be nice." Emerald stuttered repositioning herself, wishing she could stand up and stretch, her lower back throbbing, her legs screaming to be fully
extended.
The attendant came back with a small, plastic glass of water with ice cubes. Emerald smiled and thanked her before she went off quietly down the aisle, looking for anyone else she
could help.
Emerald sipped her water and took deep breaths, thinking over what'd she do when they landed, trying to think of anything else other than her nightmares.
Finding the mansion was harder than Emerald had wanted it to be. She wished it was as easy as it was in the dream… just without all the getting stabbed and stuff. Alas, it was very
hard. Emerald had absolutely no sense of direction. Everything was so different from New York. And New York was her city. She'd lived there for a pretty long time, if you gave her
a street she'd give you a place and vice versa.
But Las Vegas, Las Vegas was a whole new world. Everywhere she looked were buildings with blazing, flashing lights full of colors: green, orange, red, yellow, pink. It wasn't like
New York in the slightest. Okay, so maybe it was a city that never slept, maybe it did have so many lights that it blocked out the stars, and maybe it was as loud as New York, but
it was still different. It felt different and looked different, and the people were different.
Emerald didn't like Las Vegas in the slightest.
Thierry's house wasn't in the phone book (hey, she had to check, hadn't she?), and she highly doubted that someone on the street would know (they'd given her a weird look and
walked off without another word). The only way she could possibly find his mansion was if she found a Night Person to tell her.
It was like the light bulb had just gone off in her head. Why didn't she think of that earlier? She'd done a thousand times over, luring unsuspecting vampires into their untimely
deaths. She'd never been to Las Vegas and she changed her appearance constantly. They'd probably heard of The Vigilante but they didn't know what she looked like. She could just
go as is (because she didn't think she'd be needing her Vigilante things; although she had brought her mask).
The last time she could remember luring a vampire into her trap was… was right before she met Storm, actually. (Man, it had been way too long since she'd had a fun night out on
the town.)
Emerald smiled and chuckled at the memory. There was really only a few things that could get you thrown out of a cab: calling the taxi some bad names and pulling out a weapon.
That time she'd done both. It was fairly amusing.
"Miss," the cabbie's voice broke her out of her reminiscing. "Where to?"
Emerald smiled. "Monte Carlo?" she asked lightly. The cab driver examined her through the rearview mirror.
"How old are you?" he asked suspiciously.
"I don't think that's any of your concern." Emerald said stiffly.
"Listen, kid," he started. "I'd just get out and go back to wherever your mommy and daddy are. I don't think they'd appreciate you being all by yourself in such a big city."
Emerald sighed heavily. "That's too bad." She grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. "I had this friend," Emerald started reaching into her pocket and pulling out
three hundred dollar bills. "Actually friends," she amended opening the door. "All named Benjamin."
"Miss, wait—" the cabbie started.
Emerald stepped out half way. "But I guess if you don't want my business,"
"I didn't mean that—"
"It's okay. You're right, I really shouldn't be out all by myself in a city so big." She stepped fully out and put a hand on the door.
"Miss, you don't have to do that—"
She cut him off and slammed the door before quickly walking off. That was more fun than the last time.
As Emerald walked she noticed that she'd caught the attention of a vampire out doing some hunting.
Perfect, she thought smiling secretly to herself as she continued walking down the street. After a few moments she turned down a dimly lit alley. The boy appeared not too soon
after. Like most Night World vampires this kid was about seventeen or eighteen. His hair was short and dirty blonde that stuck out in spikes around his head. His eyes were a bright
crystal blue. He wore black jeans, boots, and a leather jacket with a white shirt underneath, and he was leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed.
"Tourist?" he called over to Emerald as she slowly walked toward him.
"Do I look like one?" she asked putting disappointment into her voice.
The PunkRock Stud smiled and chuckled. "Afraid so." He made no motion to walk toward Emerald. Which was good for her, not so good for him.
"What happened to your arm?' the Stud asked gesturing with his chin.
Emerald didn't answer until she was standing a few feet in front of him. Her smile was a little twisted as she told him, "I was attacked."
The Stud narrowed his eyes and looked down at her carefully. "By what?"
"A tiger. But it's okay. He was sorry about it afterward."
Emerald waited for the Stud to get it. It took a few seconds before his eyes widened and his back went rigid, but it was already too late. Before the Stud could do anything
Emerald's foot shot out, like she was going to kick him, instead she pressed her foot up against his throat, specifically his Adam's apple, pinning him to the wall.
"Hunter," he spat his hand coming up to her leg. "I could easily break your leg—"
"Ah, ah, ah," Emerald reprimanded pressing her instep harder against his throat. "And I could just as easily break your Adam's Apple, giving me enough time to drive this through
your heart." She pulled out her dagger.
"What do you want?" he growled his eyes flooding with silver.
"I'm looking for Thierry Descouedres, you wouldn't happen to know where he lives, would you?" she asked.
"Of course I do. Any Night Person living in Las Vegas knows." The Stud's voice turned mocking. "You're not actually going to kill the Lord of the Night World."
Emerald snorted. "Please, I'm not stupid. I… need to talk to him."
The Stud made a face. "Ugh, a damned Daybreaker, huh?"
Emerald applied more pressure to his neck. "Yeah, well, this damned Daybreaker just might end up killing you. So, do we have a deal? I'll spare your life and you take me to
Thierry's house."
The Stud seemed to have to think about this but he finally nodded slowly… well as much as he could with Emerald's foot in the way at least.
"Good," She smiled cheekily and removed her foot.
"After you," The Stud gestured.
Emerald rolled her eyes. "Ladies first," she retorted. He gave her a glare before walking forward. Emerald followed a few feet behind, her dagger in her pocket, ready to grab and
stab if needed.
Emerald didn't know what time it was but it was definitely late as the PunkRock Stud finally stopped at a long drive that was lined with palm trees. It was like Emerald had just
been splashed with ice cold water in her face. It looked exactly the same as in her dream, right down to each and every palm tree.
"You won't… tell anyone I let you go and walked you over here, will you?" the PunkRock Stud asked, rubbing the back of his neck, not meeting her gaze.
"Just so long as you don't go making up rumors about me," Emerald negotiated. "And if I hear a single word on the street that says anything bad about me, I swear I'll hunt you
down and kill you myself."
The PunkRock Stud visibly gulped and nodded feverishly. Emerald smiled. "Good. Thanks again." She then strode past him and down the driveway ignoring how walking down this
familiar paved road, even at night, made her feel nauseous and her stomach churn. By the time she got the walkway she was hyperventilating.
Biting her lip she slowly walked forward to the door actually hoping that Storm wouldn't come out and greet her. It was irrational that she'd think that Storm would ever do
something like that to hurt her or kill her in the waking world, but the dreams were becoming more frequent and it was starting to get to her. Little seeds had been planted and
watered with her tears. Now they were blossoming into dark, twisted brambles that prodded and ripped at her thoughts, distorting them, making them bleed the truth and fill with
lies.
She had made it to the front door. That was good. Now she needed to ring the doorbell… but what if they wouldn't come to the door. What if they were sleeping? How would they
feel if she woke them up in the middle of the night?
Emerald shook her head. No, that didn't matter. She needed to see Storm. She had to.
Before Emerald could change her mind she pushed the small white button and waited patiently, her heart hammering against her chest, threatening to break through. After what felt
like years to Emerald, the door cracked open, revealing a man, maybe late teens, early twenties, who wore a brown suite and dark glasses. His brown hair was pulled back into a
small ponytail. She reminded him a lot of an FBI agent which brought about bad memories….
Without breaking her gaze with the man's glasses, she slipped her foot through door.
"May I help you?" he asked in a clipped tone.
Emerald took a deep breath. "Yes, I wanted to talk to…. Well, I wanted to see—Um, I'm looking for… uh… Storm. Storm Kallahan." she stuttered wildly.
The man's expression never changed. "He's not here."
"You mean, like he hasn't been here or he's out?" Emerald questioned before he could close the door.
"Out." Was all he would say about that.
"When will he be back?" She continued.
"Listen, miss, it's really late. I'd appreciate if you came back tomorrow morning." He expertly dodged her question. Before Emerald could respond to this the guy was already
closing the door, but because her foot was firmly placed between the door and frame it stopped.
The man looked down at her foot for a moment before looking back up at her.
"I would appreciate it if I could stay… here until Storm gets back. I don't have any other place to stay and I don't have a lot of money to spend at a hotel and I've never been here."
Emerald's voice started to become desperate. "Just… just until he gets back. Then I promise I'll go. I just need to see him, please. I'm begging you."
The man sighed. "I'll be right back, but I need you to remove your foot and I'm going to need your name."
"Emerald," she said pulling her foot from the frame. The FBI dude didn't budge. "Song, my last name is Song."
The door closed then and Emerald waited. The temperature had dropped. She was shivering slightly and having her back facing an open area where anything or anyone could attack
wasn't very comfortable.
For a moment she could've sworn she heard yelling or arguing but it became quiet just as quickly. A moment later the door opened again.
"Only until Mr. Kallahan gets back," The man reminded her stepping aside and opening the door wider. Emerald quickly stepped in.
"Thank you, thank you so much. You don't know how much I appreciate this." she babbled feeling that the first trial was over.
"Follow me," he said before walking through the foyer and to the stairs at a brisk pace. Emerald did follow, though none of this felt right. It was like a cold, large rock was resting
in the pit of her stomach and it wouldn't go away. Not even after knowing she'd be seeing Storm soon, not even after she knew she had a place to stay until he got back. None of
this comforted her. The house felt cold, this FBI guy was—in her opinion—being unnecessarily chilly toward her too.
Okay, so she did kind of show up unannounced in the middle of the night, but he could've at least acted like he didn't hate her guts.
They got a room on the third floor and the dude opened the door for her without a single word. She muttered thanks before scurrying in. After taking a moment to look at the
spacious room with a kingsized bed, she turned to say thanks again, but the man was gone. Sighing, she trudged over to the door and quietly closed it.
This was going to a long night, not to mention how long she'd be staying here until Storm got back.
The next few days weren't very fun, to say the least. She never really saw anyone in the house. When she did they wouldn't talk to her or say hi, they'd just look at her with
something of distaste (she was pretty sure) and then continued walking. When she went to kitchen, which was once a day, because she didn't want to seem like she was some kind
of moocher, if anyone had been in there they'd leave as soon as she came in, even in midsentence.
It wasn't blatantly obvious why they hated her so much, why they were so cold to her, but one thing was for sure: they didn't want her here. Heaven knows how many times they
wished Storm would arrive back just to get rid of her.
As weird as it sounded, Emerald tried to keep to Eastern Time. She wanted to head back to New York as fast as she could, so it did no good to get used to Pacific Time just to go
back to New York. So, Emerald kept her alarm clock and watch at Eastern Time. And because it seemed like none of the Daybreakers really wanted her here in the house, she'd get
up at 3 am (6 am in New York) and go run fifteen miles, which took her roughly three hours. Afterward, she'd come back and get a glass of water and go back up to her room, to
stay out of the line of fire.
About two days later, a girl showed up.
Emerald was in her room rereading one of her favorite novels when she'd heard some kind of commotion going on downstairs. Setting her book aside, Emerald quietly opened her
door and slipped out, walking over the railing and peering over, down into the foyer.
"Nilsson, wait!" a girl, Lupe, shrieked halting in the middle of the hall before running over to the door, out of Emerald's sight. She was a tall, thin girl with silverbrown hair and
wide amber eyes. She had a usual sunny disposition, Emerald had observed but not toward Emerald, of course. In fact, she seemed to act even colder than most around Emerald. It
was quite odd.
"That's her!" Lupe's voice echoed through the hall, floating up to the third level of the house. "It's her! It's her." She vaguely reminded Emerald of a fan girl seeing her favorite
singer, jumping up and down in excitement the only two words coming from her mouth: It's her! "Her!" Lupe reiterated for the fourth time.
There was a moment of silence, like they were putting the puzzle pieces together. Finally, Nilsson spoke, "My name is Nilsson, miss, please come inside." Emerald sighed, if only it
had been that easy to come in. And he seemed to be treating her quite nicely…. Then again, she had n
o idea what Lupe mean by "it's her", so Emerald could totally be missing a
huge chunk of vital information.
Emerald heard the door close and Nilsson started to speak again. "I'm very sorry, miss—I didn't realize… I hope you won't hold this—"
"No one knew you were coming," Lupe interjected to stop Nilsson. "And the worst thing is that Thierry's gone off somewhere. I don't think anybody knows where or when he'll be
back. But meanwhile you'd better stay put. I don't want to think about what he'd do to us if we lost you." There was a small pause. "I'm Lupe Acevedo."
"Hannah Snow."
Well, obviously she was of importance to Thierry in some major way. So, it was fair that she was treated way better than Emerald. And Emerald hadn't even known that Thierry
wasn't at the house…. To be fair though, no one talked to her about anything anyway.
"I know." Lupe responded. "We met before but I couldn't exactly introduce myself. Don't you remember?"
There was another long pause before Lupe started to speak again, "Yeah," she sounded absolutely delighted. Emerald must've missed a silent exchanged between them. "That was me. That's how I got these bruises. The other wolf got it worse though. I ripped him a new—"
"Would you like something to drink?" Nilsson asked, his turn to cut off Lupe. "Or eat? Why don't you come in and sit down?"
Hannah sounded faint when she finally answered. "I… thank you. I mean, you saved my life didn't you?" She was talking to Lupe.
"Part of the job. Want a Coke?" Lupe replied.
Hannah laughed. "I'd kill for one."
"I'll take care of it." Nilsson said quickly. "I'll take care of everything. Lupe, why don't you show her upstairs?" Emerald saw him flit across the foyer before disappearing again and
hearing murmured conversations of other people downstairs. It sounded like they were trying to get hold of Thierry, like they didn't know where he was, which Emerald found odd.
"Come on," Lupe said loudly. "You look like you could use a bath." There were more shuffling feet and Emerald realized they were coming upstairs, so she quickly retreated to her
bedroom.
The next day Emerald was feeling more antsy that morning, so she ran a whole marathon and got back at the mansion just after eight. But she found she still felt antsy and
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