March 9, 2012

Salvador?s attempts at socializing that night near the end of winter had been an utter failure, as usual. He had never been good with people, especially when it came to trying to make friends. Of course, he had said all the wrong things to Madion, the tattooed beauty with the Mohawk made of braids he had officially met that afternoon. He should have stuck to stalking her from a safe distance and admiring the way she looked, because when he dared attempt conversation he learned that she was disappointingly all show.

A more desirable option had been skulking around outside anyway, though he hadn?t been aware of her immediately. Part of him could have been thankful for his attempt at conversation turning sour. The door opened and a glorious scent trickled into the room. He knew that scent, and it tugged at him strongly. He left Madion, a burnt bridge likely between them, and took his leave of the common room, with bottle of tequila in hand, to search for another girl entirely.

He didn?t have to search for long, however. When he opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, he found her standing right there, a few short paces away. The whole of the world shrank around them in the instant his eyes locked on her. Her eyes, the morning mist crawling out of the dark that was represented by the spill of her hair. His mouth watered at the scent of her, the sight of her. He had to have her, but cautiously. Salvador stepped into Aoife?s personal space and locked her against the rail. ?My brother told me to stay away from you,? he growled, as if accusing her of something.

?Your brother,? she repeated. Playing coy was so typical of her, and it was familiar somehow. That smile of hers was so special, edible, too red. She didn?t take care to move away, though, boundaries begone. Instead, she leaned against the railing. ?You?ve seen him??

He got up close enough to kiss her, though didn?t make that move. He shuffled right on up to practically pin her against the rail, without actually touching her. Near enough to taste, drink deep the delicious scent of her. ?I?ve seen him,? he confirmed, rusty eyes glinting feral in the limited light.

?Mmm.? Perhaps that was an answer to several things, questions he had yet to ask. She was toying with him, he knew right away. Her eyes were usually so quiet, but not tonight. There was a dark and terrible black that chased the gray to the outer edges of her eyes. ?Maybe.? She shifted, inched against that rail just a little in some strangely, perhaps unintentionally, seductive sort of way.

Salvador swayed a bit, like a drugged cobra, lulled by the piper?s piping, while he looked into those eyes. ?Now why would he tell me to stay away from you, nena?? He couldn?t imagine Aoife being too particularly dangerous, not when, whenever he saw her, he was filled with the maddening urge to throw her over a table and filet her like a fish.

?I told him a story recently.? The smile appeared again. Did he have to stand so close? She inhaled when he swayed and blinked awfully slow. He smelled of dirt and sweat and blood, as ever. ?Kissed it with barbs. He didn?t like it very much.? She actually looked disappointed at that.

?That?s a stupid reason to tell me to stay away,? he rumbled, suspicions rising. Mesteno had likely had better reasons than that, though the idiot had not bothered elaborating. His breath came heavy. All he wanted to do was take a bite of her. Restraining himself was a chore.

?He?s not very nice to me,? Aoife told him. ?He won?t share his smiles. So I made him.?

Yes, yes. Her behavior was so familiar. She wasn?t making sense, and he found it irritating, but he also remembered a time when he had made very little sense at all himself. Still, he couldn?t let sympathy overrule his senses, not anymore than her hypnotic gaze was attempting to do.

The information she provided made his eyes narrow into thin slits. A rusty flood of essence ebbed into the whites of his eyes. He growled through clenched teeth, the words punctuated and clipped. He could just imagine that somehow the girl had done his brother harm, and that was inexcusable. ?Made. Him. How.?

?He didn?t share?? She tsked, just barely spitting on him due to the proximity. She took an almost haughty lean, slightly to her right.

?No, he didn?t share,? he growled. Her blatant disregard of him was getting on his last nerve. He made the first move, daring to get physical with her for the first time since? since when? Had he ever lifted a hand in anger on her before? In any case, he reached swiftly for her throat and found her strangely expecting him with an open hand of her own.

She caught him by the wrist, and he twisted his hand by reflex to catch her by hers as well. Her sleeves were always too long, but this little dance of control they played had her arm twisting and her wrist in his grasp, a dangerous turn of the table. Their skin was cold to cold, ice on ice, and neither a one of them flinched. ?It wasn?t a secret.? But she was whispering like it was.

He gave the girl a push, with their arms locked together as they were, and presented her with the silent threat of letting her drop over the rail behind her. ?What. Did you do to him?? Every word was a growl. He was just waiting for her to tell him the wrong thing, so he had justification for ripping off her head. The thought that she had harmed his brother in any way made him angry. He held the bottle of tequila in his offhand poised and ready to be shattered against the rail at her side, any minute now.

?I told him to be nice,? she said, though she did not elaborate any more than Mesteno had. Her words added more fuel to the fire.

He?d had it with her not-answers. He brought the bottle down hard on the rail beside her and let it shatter, splitting the base into a ring of dangerous knives that he held by the neck. Tequila splashed everywhere. He lifted the jagged edges of the broken bottle up into a more menacing position. ?Be plain with me, girl,? he told her, with an unsaid threat very clear before her eyes.

Only then had he become aware of an audience that had grown around them. The shattering bottle was likely to bring more. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man approaching. ?Whoa, whoa, whoa,? said the intruder, daring to reach a hand out toward his upper arm.

Aoife released a hiss of air, and all that black in her eyes pushed out at him. ?I tied an anchor and left him there,? she said cryptically. Riddles. Nothing but riddles. He was getting so sick of them. But he had little time to let frustration rule his mind. The flare of her eyes sent him back a step, as if some invisible force had pushed him. By reflex, all eighteen of his remaining spikes clicked erect along his spine in warning, snapping straight at the joints and poking out through the slit in his jacket. He let go of Aoife immediately, and whirled on the intruder, taking a swipe at him with the jagged remains of the bottle, snarling like a rabid dog.

A girl was creeping along the fringes, he could see, behind the man who took the swipe across a thick coat. Jagged glass sliced through the material, but it was enough of a buffer for the man to avoid major injury. Metaphorically, the man bristled, but he also growled very much like a dog himself. ?Why don?t you back the hell off?? he snarled at Salvador.

Fools, he thought. Why could nobody ever see that the girl was not the sweet and innocent victim she portrayed herself as? She was a monster, like he was. Why couldn?t the idiots of Rhy?Din just let two monsters fight like they were meant to do? But he was too angry to explain.

?Why don?t you mind your own ****ing business!? he shot back. One great big expulsion of pent up rage that left him wheezing out a breath immediately after release. Without Aoife right there it was like someone had flipped a switch and let all the wind out of his sails. The spell just suddenly ceased working. His breath still came heavy, as if he?d just run an effing marathon and desperately needed to guzzle down a gallon of water.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Aoife sneaking away, sliding along the rail. Though her escape was stalled when her eyes caught on the tips of three inch long spikes jutting from his spine. They click-snapped back flat against his vertebrae on an exhale, and her own captivation ended. The girl backing up the man stepped closer to Aoife and said, ?Maybe we should get you inside.? Fool, fool, fool, he wanted to shout at her.

By then, an angry minotaur had stomped out the door, down the steps, and turned to glower at them as if he were somehow the father of them all and keen on dishing out spankings. Everything was turning too chaotic, too fast, and Salvador was too angry to laugh at the way events had turned. The crowd was gathering, and he was hell bent in his rage to take them all on.

?You.? He turned halfway, pointing the broken bottle at Aoife before the girl could make off with her. ?Stay the **** away from my brother. Next time I will kill you,? he promised her. There were too many fools coming to her rescue for him to dare acting on his instincts and unleashing a fury. With labored, panting breaths, he fought to regain control of himself and find calm.

?Why don?t you do somethin? ?bout it with someone your own size,? the other man challenged him. Salvador watched through the corner of his eye as the man?s hand tightened into a fist. He was just as ready to go down swinging as Salvador was. He was taller, by a couple inches, and heavier for sure, built like a linebacker. But one whiff of him told Salvador everything he needed to know about his vulnerability. He was only human.

?You want to ****ing die, hombre?? he asked through his bared teeth. It wasn?t so much that he was itching for a fight as he was trying to warn the fool off of attacking him. If provoked, he wasn?t sure he?d be able to restrain himself from snapping the man?s neck and taking him home to add to his collection of useful parts.

?Sal! Shut up, and chill out! Now!? The minotaur was yelling at him. He didn?t know the creature knew him, because he sure as hell didn?t know its name. It had never registered as important enough to remember.

A bellowing, ten foot tall sack of future hamburgers really didn?t make for the most formidable of creatures, either, in his opinion. Which is why he shouted back, ?**** you, cow!?

The man laughed bitterly, and his attention turned back on him. ?You?d have to get in line for that honor,? he said. How was killing him an honor? Sal had no idea. He only had anger, which blotted out most of the crowd, which was growing. Even Aoife had escaped his notice.

?I think I?m going to cut out your tongue first,? he told the linebacker, because he was getting tired of listening to him run his stupid mouth. He had no idea what he had done, the fool.

One voice cut through the milling throng, a bright and shiny beacon of sanity to slice through his rage-clouded mind. ?That?s not very sporting at all,? he heard Ali al-Amat drawl. ?How?s he supposed to call you naughty names, then??

Those taunting words shattered the rage inside of him, and Salvador?s attention diverted. Another hard and wheezy exhalation of air blasted out of his mouth when he heard him. The hand holding the broken bottle started to drop, stalled, resumed course until his arm fell limp at his side. Aoife was moving away from him; he could sense it, if not really consciously. That had an effect on him too.

The man before him relaxed visibly, the tension in his shoulders draining away. ?Most people would say that?d be an improvement,? he said. ?You?re gonna have to come up with a more vital piece of me.? Salvador could think of several, but he didn?t think it worth his while to share those thoughts.

A woman nearby asked if they should start placing bets, and Ali formed a grin for her, a lazy scrawl of white teeth and dark skin. ?A cranky Salvador is an unpredictable Salvador,? he told her. ?He?s already taken me once, the sneaky git. No wager.?

The linebacker took a step back, then, realizing that the fight was never going to be. He seemed relieved. Salvador hardly paid any attention to him at all as he slipped back into the gathered crowd. Though he did manage to push a growl through his teeth to encourage the man?s retreat.

He let the broken bottle drop, closed his eyes and straightened up to let the calm wash over him. Breathe in, and out. In, and out. He heard the woman Ali was talking to only distantly as he concentrated on regaining his composure. ?Never underestimate someone willing to take on a fight that looks impossible for them to win,? she said.

?But I have to say,? Ali said, to whom he did not know, ?that it was bloody brilliant, the way you did it.? He eased through the irritating crowd, to the railing, and sat himself down at Salvador?s side. He could feel the Egyptian moving. He was the only one he let himself be aware of, then. Anyone else only would have retriggered his rage. ?I just thought they were there for show. Like peacock feathers.?

He wasn?t sure what the hell Ali was talking about. The man was having two conversations at once, as evidenced by the way he spoke aside to the woman. ?Something like that,? he murmured, a dark and drowsy intersection of rainy Oxford days and hot Cairene nights. ?The spines,? he went on next to Salvador. ?I really did think I was going to bleed out.?

?It would have been him first,? he rumbled quietly, meaning the linebacker who had dared to interfere. The calm was settling over him, mostly. At least he no longer had a raging desire to tear anyone?s throat out. He took in another deep breath, slow on the exhale, and opened his eyes. He tipped his head to look over the crown of Ali?s. He could still sense the girl near, and if he stayed any longer he was only going to revert to his previous animalistic drives. ?I should go home,? he told Ali.

Ali was studying him, the clarity and intensity of his focus a sharp contrast to the go-lucky face he?d presented to the realm of late. ?Shall I walk with you?? he offered, drumming his fingers once on his thigh like a man drawing his own conclusions on the matter.

?If you like,? Salvador said, though it was more a hint that he?d like an escort himself. Somebody needed to keep him walking in the direction of home and prevent him from turning back around to return and assault Aoife again.

He uprooted himself from the porch, though, finally, and actually nearly stumbled down the stairs. Though his temper had greatly dissipated, he wasn?t perfectly calm yet. Ali poured himself down the stairs behind him, moving loose and easy, comfortable in his skin. Whereas Salvador stumbled like a drunkard down the road. A long walk and fresh air would do him good. Though, being poor company was still typical of him.

This did not trouble Ali in the least. The shadowcat shadowed the half-fae all the way home, and was content to keep his own counsel, for a change.


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(Adaptation from live play with thanks to Aoife Duggan, Ali al Amat, Colt Daniels, Tenacity Casely, Andu Kirost, and Dr Greenthumb Granger.)

Regardless, he was in no hurry to flee the premises. The thrill of the hunt to come had energized him too much, and there was something else in the air that was tugging on his attention. He practically danced down the porch stairs, but when his fingertips touched the end of the banister rail, a jolt of recent events slapped him in the brain. There were little glimpses of the confrontation the man inside had spoke to Thorn about. He felt himself drawn closer and closer to that area of porch where he himself had threatened to push the girl over not too very long ago, but there was something new there, waiting his touch.

There was a blood stain there, in that very same spot, and after some bit of reluctance he touched his fingers to it to absorb what had been. The distraction had been just enough for the man from inside to catch up to him. Salvador heard the overlap of a voice trickling into his ears as if from a distance. ?Hey.? The clunk of boots on porch planks helped snap him out of the reverie of what once had been. ?Don?t I know you?? the man asked. ?Were you eavesdropping earlier? ?Cause??

Salvador withdrew his hand as quickly as if someone had physically struck him, thanks to the interruption. He turned aside so he could better look up and over the rail at the towering, Lion-eyed stranger. Well, at least as far as his name was concerned. The face he remembered. ?No.? He answered the first question blandly, but the second shamelessly. ?And yes.?

The man advanced on the porch rail and leaned over, rough palm to unsplintered wood, five long fingers wrapping to support the droop of broad shoulders that had the wild lion?s mane crowding up over them in front, sparse dreading and something?s teeth and a slip of paler all woven through the undergrowth of it. ?You said ?monster.? You weren?t talking about Aoife, were you??

Of course his voice was littered with doubt. Who would have ever suspected something so seemingly fragile to be so truthfully dangerous as to be considered a monster? That was her beauty, though.

Any other man might have been intimidated by being loomed over like that. Could have read it as a threat. Salvador read it as all in good fun, perhaps, as if he might have welcomed the Lion?s pounce. They could tussle and fight over territorial rights, the pair of them. He cut a sharp grin with straight teeth. ?Oh yes,? he answered, confirming full well he had been talking of the very one.

?Friend of yours?? Now the man did not smile. He held an expression as if there was a sour taste in his mouth. To wash it down, he took a deep swallow from the bottle he had in his hand, something labeled Dalwhinnie.

He felt his own expression flatline, turning to something more neutral and speculative as he tilted his head to the left and considered. ?No,? he said, realizing quickly enough. No, she was not a friend. Not really.

There was a silence between them for a moment. Salvador was patient while the other man sized him up with his eyes, tried to figure him out. He watched as the tip of the man?s tongue traced the flats of his teeth, contemplating. He could imagine the number of speculations this man was making about him in the span of a few seconds. ?I take it you?re not in a very helpful mood,? the man reasoned. ?Bjorn, by the way.?

And there it was.

A chuckle shook him, dark and maybe even a little devious. He looked down before looking up. The limited light reflected yellow from rusty eyes. ?Salvador,? he returned. Another eighth of a turn had him more directly facing Bjorn ? he now had a name ? and a step back allowed him to survey him from a better angle. ?You don?t ask the right questions,? he countered. That didn?t necessarily mean he was going to answer them, though.

?What?s her game?? Bjorn tried a different approach, then. Something just vague enough to expect an answer just as vague in return. Almost quite the innocuous beginning.

Truthfully, the question was more complicated than it seemed to appear in its presentation. Salvador?s brows twitched low. He wasn?t sure he had the answer. What was the simplest way to put it? How to explain? ?She is Cat,? he decided, and lifted a finger to point at Bjorn while adding, ?you . . . are the mouse on the string. She?s playing with you, hombre. That?s what she does. Dips her little fingers in where they don?t belong.? When he said ?dip? he lifted both hands near his head and wiggled his fingers as if to pantomime playing with brains or conjuring bad juju.

Nearby, the door was slapped violently open from the inside out, and he was instantly aware of his brother joining them in the gloom. He flicked a glance to the door, and when spying Mesteno took a step back and away from Bjorn, dropping his hands to his sides.

Bjorn was too concentrated on the matter at hand to be immediately distracted. ?Dips her fingers where they don?t belong? How do you mean?? Afterward he was quick to eye the Sadist inscrutably, before turning that gaze on Salvador. The narrowed stare had a surly ?stay? sort of look, like he didn?t know his place very well. ?Hey, Mesteno. This is Salvador.?

Of course, Salvador chuckled, as if there were some private joke there. For his part, Mesteno was clearly riled and furious. He pointed at his brother. ?I know. He?s my damn brother,? the Sadist supplied. Prickly, prickly. ?And you?you had better not be talking about Aoife or good God I will kick your sorry ass.? To which, Salvador only chuckled more.

?Brother?? Bjorn tried to find the resemblance momentarily before he suffered what might have bordered on head-explosia. The way his face contorted as he went through the mental exercises to make sense of the matter was pretty clear. ?Friend of yours? Tell your friend to stop poking voodoo dolls or whatever it is the hell she does then. I didn?t start it. I tried to save her from a zombie like months ago.? As if that were worth something. ?I showed her kindness.? As if to say he wasn?t taking the fall on this one, heaven help them, mouth thick with displeasure.

?They?re not voodoo dolls,? Salvador said. He took another step back, cautiously, eyes almost fixed fully on Mesteno now, because he was talking about what he shouldn?t be talking about. There was always the risk his brother would leap over the railing and make good on his ass-kicking threat. ?She?s a Dreamwalker. She feeds on dreams.? At least, that?s how he figured it. That?s the only reason he could come up with as to why she seemed desperate to land her next fix, as it were. Much like he was in the autumn when everybody looked tasty.

?You, I told you to stay away from her. That girl is trouble,? Mesteno raged at him. Then he turned on Bjorn. ?Lucid dreaming! She?s doing this on purpose. When she had me dragged out of the damn alley she told me she?d--?

Salvador snorted. Like telling him to stay away from something ever worked. It was like telling a toddler NOT to touch the hot stove a zillion times, and then turning your back on him just the once and hearing him scream in pain five seconds later.

Bjorn jumped to the bait. ?That isn?t possible. My mind?s tight as an Amish virgin?s knees,? he told them both. He watched as some light of clarity hit the man?s eyes. ?The girl I told you not to kill??

?The one you told me not to kill,? Mesteno confirmed. ?I didn?t. Because the single damn good guy I knew talked me out of it. There. Did she touch you??

?Just as well try not to dream,? he muttered. That was his opinion on people having their minds locked up tight. Dream spirits always found a way in. But oh. He hadn?t shared that tidbit yet. And Mesteno and Bjorn seemed so wrapped up in chastising each other at this point.

?Yeah,? said Bjorn, jerking a thumb toward the window as if to indicate the commons. ?I remember it because it was weird as hell. Came up to me out of nowhere, and just stared with those big vulernable eyes, and touched my wrist. Walked away after that. It was?? He shrugged, unable to explain again. ?I figured screws were loose and people touch me a lot.? After a moment of pause, to wonder, he asked, ?What?s that got to do with anything?? He seemed to be asking anybody: Mesteno, Salvador, or even Fury who had come out to lurk like a ghost nearby.

Salvador captured the laughter in his nose, muffling it to a quiet snigger, short and not so sweet. Was he really the only one who wasn?t suckered in by those puppy dog eyes? Though, having a few screws loose covered it nicely. ?She?s had a taste of you,? he translated for Bjorn. Touch. Taste. They were all the same to him. ?You let her in.?

?Well?? Mesteno had no words of advice for Bjorn. Instead he turned on his brother. ?Salvador. Do you think the Nightmare Keeper could do anything about it? Because I?m stumped for answers.?

His response was instantaneous outrage. ?No.? All his amusement vanished in that flickering moment. That single word translated better that he was in no way at all approving of getting Kymeera involved. Not now. Not ever. He supplied no opinion on whether or not he thought the Keeper could do anything. The answer was just NO.

Poor Bjorn was going to be perpetually confused in all this. ?Nightmare Keeper? She?s?? He was piecing together bits of things ever so slowly. And in that moment he looked perfectly murderous. ?So this is dream shit? What does that mean?? Bjorn was obviously inexperienced with this sort of thing. ?She?s a witch that gives you nightmares? What?? Fury was so quiet that Bjorn eyed her, as if to see if she knew the score.

The very thought of Kymeera?s possible involvement made Salvador?s skin crawl. He even physically squirmed and backed up a couple more steps. He turned his head and spat as if he had the name on his tongue, and oh how the taste was foul. ?She?s fae,? he finally informed Bjorn. ?By half. A monster like me.?

For her part, Fury added her assessment. ?I would think that she messes with what you perceive as real, what is a dream, and takes what she pleases in the process.?

?I thought fairies were nice?? Bjorn was so clueless. ?You don?t have wings,? he said to Sal. He heard his brother mutter a very justified ?Oh God? in the background.

Salvador valiantly restrained his anger in that moment. He could have taken offense, but he had heard such ignorant assumptions too many times. ?Hah!? As in: show?s how much you know! Rusty eyes narrowed. His hands fisted, and the idea was there to give Bjorn a good pummeling, but he didn?t act on it. ?Not all fae are fairies,? he growled.

Mesteno was keen to notice the restrained ire. ?Salvador, you are not allowed to hit Bjorn. He?s one of mine.? As if he?d just claimed territory. Like some grumbling mutt that?d lifted a leg and?.

Bjorn wasn?t any less confused. He stammered. ?Oh.? He cleared his throat, dipped his head to indicate he understood, but then mumbled further. ?But? what? like how? what is she??

Ignoring the wild-haired Lion, Salvador snarled at Mesteno instead. ?And Aoife is mine.?

Bjorn stared, because clearly his brain was having a difficult time processing all this. ?Okay, so. What do ?fae? do?? As if he decided not to touch on the territorial battle going on.

?Everything,? said Salvador.

Mesteno exploded in a fury. ?I killed that ****ing thing for her last year, and a couple weeks ago, while Gem is kidnapped, the little bitch ties me up with barbed wire to a damn ANCHOR and left me. So you don?t get to say that!? He was angry enough that he?d given up any attempts at congeniality.

And that was when Fury herself stepped in to intervene. ?Salvador, this discussion can wait. Take me hunting with you.? She pushed away from the wall and proceeded down the stairs to join him at ground level.

?Never have I met another as perfect as her, Mesteno! She?s mine!? The girl made him mad, absolutely bat**** crazy with bloodlust and, well, other lusts. He?d have her one way or another. Even if that meant leaping over the rail and getting physical with his brother to fight over her like wolves do over who gets the choicest portions of the pack?s kill.

All the rage in the air was infections. Even Bjorn had some anger to unleash. ?I wake up with the bitch?s clawmarks all over me and she threatens my dreams in some freak-****ing-tastic voodoo-fae way and my lover!? He became surly and slant-eyed, displeased at being so out of the loop.

Fury moved so easily, wrapped an arm around Sal, gripped his arm tightly and pulled him along. ?Come with me,? she urged gently. This was probably why Mesteno had told his brother to stay away from the girl. He was spitting and swearing as the Fallen pulled him away from a potential fight.

Mesteno was shouting after him. ?If you?re claiming her, do something about her. Because I swear to God, the next time she comes around here I am not playing nicely. Mater will wake soon and I?m already--? The Sadist didn?t need to finish that sentence. Salvador knew.

?I will,? he shouted back. Quite like a petulant child. He jerked his arm out of Fury?s hold and turned about to stalk off with her. Yes. Hunting was a good idea. Later, he might even thank her.


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(Adapted from live play with thanks to Bjorn, Mesteno, and Fury.)