A Ghostly Rose

The fourth night was always the longest. It didn't matter whether they were busy or slow. Every time she looked toward the clock the digital face taunted her. There were times she truly enjoyed her job. But never on the fourth night of her shift.

Perhaps it was the beckoning glint of four days off. Perhaps it was a general sense of exhaustion built by four twelve hour shifts. And it could very well be the lack of sun as she tended to sleep a large part of the day away.

Her pale skin didn't seem to mind. The luminescent quality growing almost ghostlike within her second week of work. She was good at what she did. Seemingly empathetic to her patients, though her dark eyes remained opaque. Her manner brisk yet comforting. If she didn't associate with the other nurses it was because she always appeared to be busy, never rude. Simply preoccupied with her patients.

Diligently she worked. Slipping through the halls on soft feet, a whisper of sound here or a polite smile there. If she "touched" no one and no one "touched" her, there still remained no room for complaint.

While many might not be able to recall her name, her scent lingered. Roses.

Always Roses.

She'd reported into work, covered in arterial blood, sticky and still warm. She spoke of the killing of the man outside in soft tones, no real emotion feathering them. If many assumed it was the shock of being attacked that numbed her reactions she didn't disabuse them of the notion.

She told the truth, to some degree.
He jumped her.
He was there for the pills.
He had meant to rape her.

But she left out key details.
She was the one with the weapon.
She had known he was there for awhile now and had bided her time.
She had enjoyed the kill.


Her new co-workers were concerned and empathetic. She was left alone to shower and they discarded her stained scrubs and brought her replacements. They whispered about her "trauma" and fixed her sugar laced tea to combat the effects of shock.

After an hour of their questions and concerns, she quietly went back to work. A few futile attempts to dissuade her were abandoned as she slid seamlessly into a busy night. As much as they might've liked to stand on principle and send her home, there really was too much work for the clinic to afford to lose one of their staff in the middle of a weekend night.

She finished her shift with a small half smile of contentment on her lips and an old french lullaby sung in her husky whisper carried on the wind:

"If I die before you wake
Don't you cry, don't you ache
Nothing's ever yours to keep
Close your eyes, go to sleep."

He drew in a breath and tightened the lines of muscle that hid beneath his attire, melding her lushness against them as she stepped beyond. He fell in beside her, even going so far as to slide his arm around her waist. Again it was bold, and yet somehow far more friendly than seductive. "Alright, then let me treat you to a dinner-breakfast. It's the least I could do."

She didn't seem to mind his proprietory attitude, in fact she simply slid into place as if it were natural to be tucked up against him. Her gentle agreement managed to exude the simple idea of her feminine need for his masculine strength. Her curvy body molding to his harsher lines in a welcoming fashion that spoke to a primitive placement and hinted at her willingness to accept him in a physical capacity. "Well, a girl does have her hunger to contend with." A smoky whisper.

There was no rush. He moved with a measured step that spoke of patience and control. Strides were taken with the intent of grinding chiseled muscle against her curvaceous nearness, the encircled arm kept in place to keep her tightly embraced. In fact, not only was the arm held firmly, but the hand upon its end dropped so that five wide fingers could ride the delectable curve of her hip, somewhere between waist and ***. "And she should be fed accordingly. There is a small bistro just up the road here. You'll like it. It's private. Dark."

Smoky dusted lids lifted to allow her sable gaze to peer up from beneath the fringe of dark lashes made mysterious by the skillful application of mascara. There was dark knowledge in that gaze, a womanly promise that spoke of passionate entanglement and sensual abandon. Her lips remained curved in that softly amused smile even as her gaze promised him sin. She exuded an air that spoke of private, dark, and dangerous dealings. "I'm suddenly famished, lead on, Docteur." An accent shading her words.

The attraction, the lust that she showed him was analyzed and explored. Of course there was attraction on his part, but more than that, there was curiosity. He wanted to see what made her tick. He wanted to dissect her, and wouldn't mind doing it from the inside. He lead her to the bistro and inside, where the table they were shown was dark and lonely. They had tried to sit him across from her, but boldly he moved his chair to sit beside her, sharing a single menu so that he was required to stay close.

If his boldness bothered her there was no evidence in place as she again gently submitted to his pressure. Though every little give was noted in the dark hypnotic pull of her eyes, as if somewhere internally she kept a tallyboard for all of these concessions and would expect a return at some point. For now she set near enough to him that their breath mingled and her perfume taunted him. Her smoker's hoarse voice washing over him on a husky murmur, "I'm not one of your debutantes, Dr. Shilo."

Again that rich deadly knowledge is apparent, "I like to eat." A flash of her white even teeth against the crimson plumpness of her lips, "I'll have the breakfast sampler platter with a little bit of everything," Her voice dipping lower, more intimate, "I like to explore it all." And while the innuendo licked across the words it was quite obvious that she was serious and not simply flirting.

Her sable gaze returned to him, drinking in his suave perfection and assured confidence. As she observed him the world around them ceased to distract. Her attention fully and completely his again, a gift really that promised to belong solely to him. The first sip of her black, unfiltered and undoctored coffee brought a sigh of pleasure and a flush of rose to her ghostly luminescent skin, the crimson stain of her lipstick leaving its mark upon the white porcelain as surely as her attention did on him. Only him.

His eyes averted for a moment, giving her a look at his profile, before turning back as the rim of his wine glass found his lips. He took a small sip of the beverage and swallowed it smoothly before placing the glass back on the table. The breath he drew in caused his chest to expand, making him oddly larger for a moment in time, and he used that to his advantage as he turned into her once she placed the coffee mug down and pushed his lips against hers, forcing a kiss upon her.

Like everything else she did there was no suddenness. No startled moment of frozen inaction. She quite simply gave herself to him. Became his in that moment. Submitting completely to his dominant display of masculine attention. Plush lips parted in acceptance, her breath moistly sweet and warm as it whispered out on a throaty sound of pleasure. Conquered by his curiosity and desire. Pliant and willing. In the time of that kiss she was his. Only his.
Exploration. It happened when he demanded the kiss. When he parted her lips with his. When he pushed his tongue inside and tasted her. It was tender and yet deep, a calm probing of her affection. It stretched out for many seconds though never expanded beyond that. His hand did narrowly drop for just a moment touch her bare thigh, but retracted as though that simple move had been an accident. He drew out the kiss and then slowly, smoothly departed. He paused once the kiss was over, regaining his bearings and allowing her to do the same, before explaining. "The tension was undeniable and insurmountable. As a doctor it is my responsibility to remove as many distractions as possible to get to the heart of the matter. That was necessary."

Amusement danced in the depths of her eyes, her lips betraying her fully as they curled upward, the tilt of her head sending wispy blonde hair to feather free from her face, "Is that so, docteur?" Her small-boned hand finding his throat, the crescent caress of her nails gliding across the sensitive skin there to traipse around and curl against the strong nape of his neck, pulling him back toward her. "Then I would say you failed, sir, for the tension has only increased," Her pillowy lips now finding his and demanding quid pro quo. Her tongue darting inside his mouth to taste and explore in a reflection of his own earlier tasting.

If she tried to continue he would stop her -- at least that is what he told himself. But as the taste of her sweet mouth resonated upon his tongue he could not help but dive once more into her torrid kiss. He breathed her in, devoured her affection and pressed himself against her. This time it was no accident when his hand fell to her thighs and instantly sough to wedge its way between them. Strong and insistent, it was though she had no choice but to accept his invasion, and yet for some reason they retreated on their own, pulled back above the table.

She'd offered no resistance, in fact her silken flesh apparently welcomed his touch if the quiver of her body was any key. Her breath exhaled sharply across his lips as she pulled back a scant inch, dark lashes fluttering upward as their waiter re-emerged with their food and jealous hatred etched upon his face. She didn't bother to look in his direction, so securely was her attention now upon her companion. Slowly those tempting crimson pillows, still moist from his invasion, turned upward as she gave a husky sigh of pure appreciation. "Well, docteur, I cannot say that I minded your failed experiment even if its outcome was not as you predicted."

He broke away and leaned back for the arrival of his food, sighing softly at the savored allure that moistned his tongue. There was parts of her still inside his mouth, parts of her that he tasted, parts of her that he swallowed. Her words returned him from his private thoughts and he turned an eye upon her, and even with his glasses on she could see the raw lust that swirled inside. "The best part about experiments, Miss Notus, is that even failed ones can sometimes turn out to be successful."

She said nothing to his accurate assessment. Instead she robbed him of that weighted gaze again, tearing the attention from him with a very real sense of loss. The warmth of her hypnotic eyes now turned to her food. Unfolding her napkin she placed the linen length in her lap and carefully approached her food with the same single minded attentiveness that was her trademark.

"He's bleeding out!"

"I've got another one over here!"

"Someone help!"

"Help me!"

The wails and screams of the dead and dying were a cacophony of anguish. Through it all she remained as implacable as ever. The smoky sable gaze slid through the injured with the sharpness of a scalpel. Shockingly unfazed by the damage that she was seeing. She was quick. Deadly efficient. She knew immediately which ones could be saved and which ones would not be worth the effort.

Since the violence that had rained down upon the area things had gotten progressively worse. Initially the Clinic had responded by opening its doors to a steady stream of those needing treatment. But it soon became apparent that the numbers of the needy might soon outpace the facilities resources.

It didn't take long for news to travel that there were many more injured not able to make it to Shambles Way. She hadn't flinched when volunteers were asked to bring their services to the fields of battle. Donning a dark cloak, gathering a medical bag full of a motley assortment of technologically advanced and magically enhanced items, she had blithely followed into the smoking carnage.

She'd seen war before. The trauma it inflicted, the sweet brutality of its path. But RhyDin offered a special level of hell with its vast variety. It wasn't the injured she was finding difficulty dealing with; nor was it the loved ones seeking their hurt family members.

No, it was the scavengers who were becoming problematic.

Bloodsuckers, carnage-seekers, spirit-suckers, of all kinds, were drawn to the promise of a meal. Those who might normally have been able to maintain a shroud of civility were driven mad by the smorgasboard of suffering that surrounded them.

It wasn't too long before the doctor who had assembled them began encouraging them to return to the Clinic. It was becoming too dangerous to maintain makeshift camps of healing.

She didn't argue with him but set out from the tent as if headed to the Clinic. A quick slip around a corner once out of sight and she was back in the midst of the bloody thick of it.

She was a healer.
She was a murderer.

A contradiction to be sure. But either way, she knew when to answer her calling, and both sets of skills would surely come in handy.

The Watch uniform had been shredded apart by whatever had caused the damage. Her hands were pressed deep into the gaping wound in the young man's chest. His own clasped hers weakly as if to protest this invasion or to aid in her pain inducing attempts to save his life. It mattered little for he had no strength with which to stop her.

The sable softness of her gaze held his own captivated as she pushed the poultice inward. If it bothered her that she was causing him intense agony, or if it awarded her a sense of righteousness that she was saving him, neither showed.

The healing pack began its work and the rich crimson flow of his blood stopped pumping over her clasped hands and slowed to a sluggish trickle. She'd stopped the loss of his life's flow but if he were to live he'd need one of the more talented healers from the Clinic.

A glance upward revealed that she was alone. The dark alley off the main thoroughfare had seemed like a good hiding space from the invaders, but it may now mean this man's certain death. There was no way she could move him alone.

A flicker of movement brought with it a sense of relief, another refugee could assist her.

But it was no refugee that parted from the shadows on a slinky slide of a predatorial step. The eyes glowed an unhinged scarlet as they focused on the injured man. It might've been a human at some point in its life but it was now a ravenous apparition of madness. Feminine perhaps? The ragged clothes that encased it gave hint of what had once probably been an endowed beauty. Lips pulled back from fangs as the thing hissed at her in warning. It was here to feed and she was in its way.

She looked down at the softly breathing young man. He was alert. Aware and conscious, he saw the thing approaching them and knew he could not escape it. A blood soaked hand clasped hers to gain her attention and he whispered, "go."

She nodded and slid from her perch of a savior. Making no sudden motions she slowly pedaled backwards to leave him to the fate of becoming a meal for a citizen he had probably been injured protecting.

Those sable eyes watched from the shadows as the lurching gait of the revenant brought it forward. Its speed had increased as it had realized there was no fight to be had here. It was the lowest of the predators. Had Eerie shown any real resistance it probably would've fled. But here before it was a gloriously easy meal.

He closed his eyes as his body refused to answer his demands to escape The urge to flee was screaming through his mind but his injuries had been tpo catastrophic. With death so near and such a horrid end, he gave himself over to whatever higher power he believed in. His thoughts on whatever loved ones might miss him.

It jerkily stopped above him, lowering itself into a crouch that swayed back and forth in its eagerness. A hissing sound accompanied a spray of hot saliva to splatter his face. Clawed hands reached forward to skitter across the blood soaked glory of his ravaged chest.

And quite suddenly it arched, back bowing, head thrown back on an agonized death knell. From the center of its chest emerged the spiked end of what had once been a pretty gated ornament from a nearby shop. Not one to waste anytime, Eerie used the creature's exposure against it, the hatchet she'd liberated from a butcher shop hacking downward to take its head. Her first stroke wasn't enough and as the creature tumbled back she set to work. Chopping in one self-assured stroke after another, each meaty thunk severing more of the thickened flesh, until the head rolled free.

Swiping a blood soaked hand across her forehead to remove a wispy fall of white blonde hair, she looked down upon her handiwork. And the man's eyes met hers, wide and full of gratitude and surprise... "th-thank..you."

She nodded sharply. "Of course." She wasn't about to let her hardwork go to waste. She'd already saved this man. He was hers now and let any foolish creature try to stop her.

Pleasure was an intense ride. Whether it was from saving him or from killing it, was indeterminable.

With the war seemingly ended things were sliding back to a normalcy she could appreciate.

She'd taken up hockey of all things and had discovered that she loved it. The floating on ice, the roar of the crowd, the sinking of a puck. It was...fun.

Long nights working late shifts had been interrupted by the call of the Winds. Her job had been easy enough. Dr. Shilo distracted, the caterers dispatched and the cargo moved to the safety of the Legacy's Compound.

And then to discover that Zephyr had not actually dispatched the eye-witness.

One more job for her.

But now it was time to fall back into the easy rhythm of the Clinic. She gave herself over to her job. Carefully efficient hands seeing to the wounds and illnesses of the needy.

The scent of roses grasped the air and rendered it submissive. In this area of the clinic one could not escape the pervading smell. It wasn't a perfume, or a cologne that carried the olfactory weight, but seemed to be the actual flower. Many nurse who made their way down the hall found themselves searching for the bouquet and finding none.

Though few came down this particular hall. For it was here that they housed the mentaly ill. Not just the mentally ill but the severely damaged. These individuals were likely to hurt themselves or someone else in a moment of confusion or glee.

Eerie didn't mind this section of the clinic. In fact, she seemed to glide seamlessly into its inner workings always ready to offer needed assistance at the most opportune time.

Like now for instance. The smack of flesh was loud in the small alcove of a patient's bedroom. At the sound the attending whirled around to discover Nurse Notus gripping the offending arm of the slender child where she'd apparently caught the hand of the patient. Grasped firmly within those delicate fingers was a scalpel...aimed directly at the exposed back of the doctor.

The doctor cleared his throat and stumbled back a step from the silent struggle to end his life. Had Nurse Notus not been there that razor sharpened blade would've impaled him between his shoulder blades. Thankful eyes found dark pits of merciless consideration and he found himself shivering, "Th-thank you."

"You're welcome." Eerie responded in the sultry smoker's voice that was her trademark. Carefully, and surprisingly gently, she pried the blade from the fingers of their young charge and pushed the snarling child back upon the bed.

"I'll call for restraints." He managed in a still squeaky voice.

"No." Eerie's word was meant to be obeyed despite their difference in positions, "Restraints will only anger her. I've called in Dr. Shilo, until he gets here, I'll stay."

"I-if you're sure?" He was already making his way for the double locked and sealed doors at the end of the hall, more than willing to abandon Eerie to the frothing and snarling child that she'd just released.

Flopping like a fish out of water, the child convulsed in anger and madness before leaping up to its feet to glare at the woman before it. Calmly, Eerie peered back.

Peeling back lips from filed teeth that still held scraps of flesh within them from its last successful bite, the child cooed deep within its throat.

The cold smile of the Ghostly Rose was its only answer.

"Behaving." She responded in the smoker's rasp, her voice caressing the air and sending equal parts danger and desire.

The child whimpered and settled into a crouch at the kiss of her voice. Burrowing its face into the corner as it sought freedom. Long, dangerously ragged nails scratched along the wall in a wicked sound of predation.

She seemed unbothered by the noise. Her attention was divided. A focus on the tray of instruments demanded by the constant buzzing of the discordant. Something was wrong.

Something was really wrong.

And then the realization bloomed and filled her with a hot hard tension as she recognized what it was that her subconscious had been trying to tell her.

"Why was their surgical instruments in here in the first place?" The question came quietly, the soft rasp of her voice a revelation to herself as she'd had no intention of actually speaking aloud.

Gleaming, the silver edged instruments winked mockingly at them both. Laid out like little soldiers upon the tray near the patient's bed.

Or assassins.

She turned sable eyes on Shilo as she considered the puzzle before her.

Someone had either made a very dangerous mistake...or this was deliberate, but deliberately what exactly?

The question of the surgical tray had remained unanswered for them both and Harold had been remanded into Shilo's custody.

A host of other oversights began to plague her but she had no time to focus upon the problem as her duties were stretching her too thin.

It was her own fault really, with the job completed at the Plaza there was no reason to stay on in her part time position with Doctor Shilo but she found herself reluctant to let that connection go.

That, combined with the Winds, left her far too busy to consider the implications of accidents that occurred with surprising frequency on the night shifts.


It was only during the recent RBF Outbreak that Eerie found herself with a considerable amount of time around her fellow staff members. After all, the quarantine demanded those on the premise remain there and she gave no hint of the chafing of this command as she went about her duties.

The vaccine was fairly simple to administer yet somehow a batch was improperly coded and left in temperatures that destroyed its efficiency.

Perhaps it was time to share her misgivings with a superior? As an elderly woman convulsed with a vicious hacking cough, Eerie's dark soulless eyes slipped from face to face...searching.