Promiscuous Girl
by Kristin aka Kiara Alexis Klay
Genre: Crossover; Roswell, The Anita Blake Vampire series
Disclaimer: None of it is mine. Roswell is property of Melinda Metz, Jason Katims, and a host of networks and producers. The Anita Blake Vampire
Series is property of Laurell K. Hamilton and her respective publishing houses. Title taken from the Nelly Furtado song featuring Timbaland (c) 2006 Geffen Records.
Rating: Mature - Adult -- Dark themes ahead --
Synopsis: Grief, drugs, prostitution....all adds up to Miss Perfect Paker becoming the Promiscuous Girl.
Author's Note: Well, whimsicality let the cat out of the bag so to speak with one of my next crossover ideas....it's a snippet I've been toying around with, and I might as well post it here as any other. All research has been taken from the books directly, the official LKH website, and wikipedia.
Some background, this is a scene from a larger, longer fic I've been dabbling in, and all you need to know is it's set in the Anitaverse, definitely after Narcissus in Chains but sometime before The Harlequinn, so spoilers in the Anitaverse for pretty much ten or twelve of the books, lol. Also, Liz has gone by the moniker 'Elle' and that is her 'other' persona. Liz, or Elle, has gone through a rough time and this is the reunion between her and an old 'friend.'
~~~
So cold. So utterly freezing, numbing, thank God for the numbness. She didn't want to feel. But wait....she tried desperately to cling to that soothing nothingness, but it was for want.
Faster than she thought possible, the cold slipped away and then she was feeling what she never wanted to.
Liquid fire raced through her veins and consumed her from the center out.
She screamed as she started to burn.
~~~
Anita groaned in annoyance as she glanced at the clock on the dashboard, giving it the glare it deserved for mocking her with it's little red numbers. A soft, amused chuckle reached her ears and the glare was transferred over to the man sitting in the passenger seat beside her. Absurdly green-gold eyes - cat eyes - peered back at her with no fear, and Anita felt her anger subside just barely at the sight of that good humor, only to return in full force at the knowingly smug grin directed her way.
"Shut up, Micah," she growled at her Nimir-Raj and one of her live-in boyfriends.
"I didn't say anything," Micah Callahan replied smoothly in a soothing tone that Anita had come to recognize as his placate-the-always-angry-Anita voice. It would piss her off more if she didn't find it funny as well. On occassion.
"I don't think the clock's going to go any slower, Anita," her other live-in boyfriend, Nathaniel Graison piped up and the sarcastic rejoinder died on Anita's lips as she glanced in the Jeep's mirror to catch that violet eyed gaze.
"Aww, you know women, Nate. She's late for a date so of course she's going to be grouchy," the fourth occupant in the Jeep snickered, and Anita scowled.
Jason Schuyler, blond, boyishly handsome, and a professional stripper just merely took what she dished out and came back for more like a begging puppy who didn't know any better.
"Jason," Anita growled, even knowing it was useless. If she wasn't willing to kill to back up her threat, it was pretty much a moot gesture.
"Anita," the irrepressible scamp mimicked her tone back at her, then broke into a killer watt smile that left many a female customer coming back for more. Even Anita had found herself succumbing to its charms a time or two, much to her disgust. But tonight, she was so not into the mood. As if sensing this, Micah turned those kitty-cat eyes the younger man's way.
"Jason," the named reproach rolled in a growling purr and there was a sense of power behind the word that had both boys in the backseat straightening to attention. Nathaniel fairly cringed, but Jason merely grinned and settled back in his seat with a parting shot of, "You're not my Ulfric."
"Thank God," the laid-back Nimir-Raj, quipped back with a cautious smirk.
"He's not your Ulfric, but I am your lupa, so you should have listened to me the first time," Anita pointed out, flipping the turning signal to warn the other drivers of her plan to merge, and pulled into the street leading to their destination, The Blood District. She must have been spending too much time with Jason, for Anita could feel her frown pull outwards into a pout and she cast a semi-irritated huff at both Micah and Jason, including Nathaniel if only because he was male.
"Aww, but you're so fun to rile up," Jason persisted and this time it was Nathaniel who gave him a playfully warning slap as a literal growl was heard from
Anita. It was enough to make the werewolf to subside into a blissful silence for the remainder few minutes of the drive, a silence broken only at Anita's not quite muffled curse at finding the following street packed, forcing her to drive around the block in order to find a parking spot. She should have expected one of St. Louis's main tourist attractions to be, well, attracting tourists, but it wasn't her fault they left the house later than planned. Really.
But it was past dark on a Friday and the monsters both real and imagined were out in force tonight. And if some now considered her one of the monsters along with the three men accompanying her, well, then bully for them.
"Come on, Nathaniel's going to be late for work and you're not helping," she grumped, placing the Jeep in park and unbuckling her seat belt.
She really didn't want to be here, but her other main honey was not only the boss of Nathaniel, but he also wanted to speak to her in person instead of mind to mind as they had been communicating before, and the romantic he was thought it would be poetic to meet at Guilty Pleasures, where according to Jean-Claude 'everything started.' Anita thought he just wanted to show off, but then again, no one asked her opinion. The boys were only moments behind her lead, and by the time she shut her door the three thronged around to gather on the sidewalk, and the steady glomp of a heavy heel had Anita's head turning to face the incoming pair.
Merle and Noah, wereleopards and bodyguards extraordinaire, came to join their group after getting out of their own vehicle that had tagged along after theirs, neither male willing to let their Nimir-Ra and Nimir-Raj out of their protection for too long.
"About time you boys showed up," Jason laughed and then ducked away, not managing to avoid the swipe Anita sent his way. Suddenly, he froze, and all playfulness dropped as a warning growl more suited on something with bushy fur and tail, and Grandma what big teeth you have, than the tan human throat.
On guard, the group turned as one to meet the perceived threat. Now that she was made aware - and she was kicking herself for not picking up on it sooner - across the street was a slumped over figure shuffling in obvious pain and cold. While that wasn't quite unusual, St. Louis did have it's share of the homeless and less fortunate, what was unusual was the buzzing feeling that Anita usually associated with a lycanthrope, that hot, prickling energy that always seemed to try to boil the very blood in your body just by proximity.
"Who's that?" Noah, the younger of the bodyguarding duo, asked, glancing over at Jason with the barest flick of his eyes, automatically shifting -no pun intended - into attack mode, and Anita didn't blame him. Now that she was focusing on the unknown shifter, that blistering aura had settled into a familiar base scent, and she could determine the shifter was...
"Friend of yours, boy?" Merle drawled lazily, but looking at the biker-turned-bodyguard you wouldn't ever think that of him. Merle had placed himself at point, keeping the unknown shifter in sight as he kept himself between Micah and her, for it was now discernable that it was a she.
~~~
She felt it.
The heat, that burning, buzzing, annoying heat. This whole city had been filled with it and it made her want to crawl out of her skin, but oh, no bad thought, for...something stirred within, stretching out, and the brush of fur tickled the sides of her stomach. Her empty stomach couldn't even produce phlegm for her dry heaves in response to the nausea that inner stretching had caused, and she stumbled, reaching out, catching rough brick that tore at nails and skin alike but halted her downward journey.
That buzzing grew and just as suddenly she knew she wasn't alone, not that she hadn't been aware of anyone else around, but these weren't regular people, they were....well they were buzzing too, and watching her.
Her head whipped up as that something in her stomach rushed to the fore, filling her senses and it was only through sheer will she held onto herself. Eyes sharpened to a degree she'd never experienced before focused unhesitatingly on a group she only realized now she'd been aware of to some degree, they were staring, hard, that annoying something buzzing around them and through them and was reaching out to touch all around them.
She didn't like them staring at her. And for once in complete agreement with her, that SOMETHING inside her didn't like them staring either. A low hiss was startled through chapped lips and unconciously she dropped in a defensive crouch, perfect for fight or flight.
She couldn't scent them, they were downwind, and she froze meeting the startled and wary gazes, not knowing they merely reflected her own.
~~~
"I don't know her," Jason responded to Merle's question, abnormally grim and Anita bit back a groan. Jason grim was never a good thing. That's usually when the shit hit the fan.
"Just because you haven't banged her doesn't mean anything," Noah snorted, and despite the crudeness, Anita found the young enforcer had a point.
"She's not pack, nor is she one of Rafael’s," Jason reiterated, his voice growling in response, but his attention was all for the figure currently staring back at them wide-eyed, who dropped into crouch prepared to flee or fight at the right - or wrong- provocation.
The surrounding weres stiffened further at the revelation if that were possible.
"Great," she sighed. Great, just what she needed, a rogue were running around loose. A rogue wererat running around when to be a rat in this town was unpleasant, especially if the Rat King or one of his Rodere caught the uninvited shifter unawares. It was a perceived insult and could bear an automatic death sentence.
It was so quiet, Anita thought she'd made it up, but Noah's disbelieving and eloquent 'huh?' and Micah's sharp glance at their auburn haired member told her she hadn't misheard.
"I know her," Nathaniel spoke up again, his long ponytail swishing like a horse's tail as the end of it hovered inches above the cold concrete of the sidewalk.
"Define know, boyo," Merle prompted.
"I know her from before I was Changed," Nathaniel answered and then he stepped forward, moving cautiously around the two flanking bodyguards and then surprised the crap out of me when he lifted his voice to carry across the street.
"Elle! Elle, it's me, it's Nate!"
~~~
"Elle! Elle, it's me, it's Nate!"
She stared at the beautiful young one approaching, and warring instincts held her captive as a memory tried to come forth. Something, and not the something that was howling at her to RUN just clicked.
"Nathaniel?" Elle cocked her head, and unbeknownst to her, her nostrils flared as she scented the air, finding a familiar mix of vanilla and Nathaniel....and...cat?
"Elle, oh my gosh, you're here!" The unreserved joy and delight in his voice was like a serrated knife upon an old callous; it cut, and by God it hurt.
"Nathaniel, get back!" Anita ordered, eyeing the beat up girl in front of her. Her hand hovered over the opening of her jacket where her Browning rested in it's shoulder holster, she didn't like the haggard, sunken-in and dirty looking girl whom Nathaniel seemed to know. She would feel more inclined to pity the poor thing if it wasn't one of her own in the line of fire. Literally.
But for once, Nathaniel ignored his Nimir-Ra and he was across the street and approaching the girl before she could hiss at him again.
Damn shifter speed!
"Nate?" Elle repeated, some of the tension leaving her as the soft vanilla scent hit her, reminding her of nights spent curled up around his body, his warmth, and his comfort.
"What happened Elle?" the older, now 21, Nathaniel asked his friend and former lover gently. It was her! Beneath the smell of semen, blood, drugs, dirt, hospital antiseptic, and the heady foresty musk of rat, there was a familiar vanilla and lilac scent, Elle's scent.
Elle was about ready to reply when the woman Nathaniel had been with called out again, her voice a harsh discord to the little reunion, and something inside her bristled and raised her hackles at the interruption.
~Danger, power, too wounded to fight, get away!~
Elle's eyes glowed button black and her power flared in response to that leaking out of Anita's shields, and she didn't realizing she was glaring and growling at the woman over Nathaniel's shoulder until her ears caught the answering snarls from the formerly silent bodyguards, who moved in to protect their Nimir-Ra and Nimir-Raj.
"Elle, it's okay, it's okay," Nathaniel soothed, and despite the unfamiliar feline scent about him, Elle wanted to trust him, even though he had left her all those years ago.
"I, I have to go," she stuttered through lips dry and cracked with non-use. Never breaking the stare with the woman whom she'd automatically zeroed in as the leader, she started slinking backward in a graceful crab walk.
"Nathaniel!" the woman yelled and the auburn haired man child paused, torn between the two women who had meant the most to him. Elle took that moment to whirl around and she was almost down the street before Nathaniel made up his mind and chased after her.
"Elle! Elle! Elle stop, please, Elle! Don't leave me alone!" Nathaniel was begging, crying, as he chased after her, and Elle's heart broke, something she hadn't thought still possible. She'd never been able to deny Nathaniel anything, and her legs were already halting their flight, and her body turning back around before she knew it.
She was suddenly caught up in a massive hug as a warmer than she remembered body careened into her, almost crushing her to him, and she found her own voice lifting in a keening cry as she held onto his neck just as tight.
~~~
I, Liz (Multi XO, MATURE, cc/uc) AN 6/8 [WIP]
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Re: I, Liz (Multi XO, MATURE, cc/uc) 1/10/09
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Re: I, Liz (Multi XO, MATURE, cc/uc) 1/13/09
Bring Me to Life
By Kristin aka Kiara Alexis Klay
Genre: crossover - Roswell, Twilight book series
Disclaimer: Neither the show Roswell, nor the Twilight series is mine. I am just dabbling in the world for a bit. The title is taken from the Evanescence song Bring Me to Life off their album, Fallen. That's not mine either though I like it perhaps a little too much.
Rating: Adult -- WARNING - Graphic scenes of violence ahead -- Read at your own risk.
Pairing: mentions of CC pairings of past/present (for both TW & Ros), UC pairings (Liz Parker/ Edward Cullen)
Synopsis: What would have happened if Bella had chosen the other man...and what would Edward's family do to get him out of his funk? What would happen if Liz didn't forget the last few weeks of loneliness and persecution for trying to find Alex's killer?
A/N: Here's the next installment of the Eventide mini-series, that started with Goodbye to Yesterday. I hope you enjoy!
~~~
how can you see into my eyes
like open doors
leading you down into my core
where I've become so numb
without a soul my spirit sleeping somewhere cold
until you find it there
and lead it back home ~Evanescence, Bring Me to Life
~~~
Elizabeth Parker was within the shadows of her room, sitting on the floor with her back braced against the wall, the window above and to the left of where she sat curled in on herself. The adrenaline and rushing need that had driven her these last few weeks had gradually worn off faster than she had anticipated, and the fall from the high was just that: a fall. The numbness had first begun when she'd realized that the ship that blasted off into Earth's atmosphere was actually occupied by a living hybrid, that Max had allowed the continuous existence of a traitor who was now enroute to the enemy with important information on the group and their capabilities, not to mention images, and she soon felt like a sieve as all thoughts and coherency seemed to vanish.
Once she'd recovered from the initial shock and became aware she was in Max's embrace - something that once would have caused her joy - now only served to make her feel sick beneath that icy, leaden numbness, and without a word she had reeled back faster than a striking snake. Wide, disbelieving eyes never took their accusing stare off of Max as she avoided the reaching hands offering safety and stability, and she was shaking her head even as she turned away.
No, to the fact that her best friend was still and cold and decomposing in his grave, while his murderer was allowed to live, allowed another opportunity to hurt, to destroy. It was all too much.
So here she sat, alive of sorts, in the deepening shadows of her room, alone in the house as her parents were once again away to some convention, and hiding. Hiding from the pain, hiding from the reality, hiding from being spotted if Max decided he needed to come over to 'make sure she's alright', and just hiding in general.
She would have laughed and cried at how pathetic she was if she could muster the strength to care.
Her eyes and limbs started drooping as the twilight deepened in time with her apathy, unheeding and uncaring of the cold, hard surfaces she was pressed against, not even noticing as her body started shivering to try to keep her core temperature up. She heard movement, the sound of a leather sole screeching against the textured tarmac of her balcony, the soft crunch a warning of a familiar stride.
Roused from her lethargy for the moment, the thought that she was annoyed stuck out the most even as she scuttled silently against the wall, keeping herself small and in the darkest shadows, hidden from sight as the crunching stopped, and Liz knew from experience that a ghostly pale face would be peering into the window, searching, seeking....demanding.
Leave me alone! I have nothing to say and no ears to hear, she mentally begged the once-welcome intruder...and Liz felt she should be more surprised at the thought that she really felt that way now. Max was intruding, and he was most certainly not welcome in her home, her bedroom....her life, anymore. He'd made it perfectly clear the last few weeks that she meant nothing to him, he didn't respect her, or her wishes, or her instincts and insights unless and until they were convenient for him and she was heartily sick of it.
Slowly, she wrapped her arms around her legs and tucked them in close as she pressed as close as she could against the wall, the corner, wishing even as she did that she could melt into the shadows and never have to see the harsh dawn of tomorrow, of another day spent without the joy her friend had brought, or the comfort and escape he had offered even when she was at odds with the rest of the group. She held her breath and willed her heart to stop beating so frantically, willed herself to be stone, to be anywhere but here.
It seemed like an eternity had passed before she heard the deep, sigh of disappointment and was that a bit of frustration? She felt the smirk cover her face as she literally felt the pause, she practically could see the thoughts run through his head and passing across his eyes: dare he enter her room, her sanctum, without her permission, invade it so obviously, so forcefully? Finally...finally she heard the sound she'd been hoping for, the sound of those same leather soles scuffling across the balcony, almost dragging with their owner's reluctance as if he were giving her a chance to pop out, flag him down, and beg for even daring to defy him his presence in her conscious attention.
When she was absolutely certain that he wasn't going to come back, that she was safe, she sagged back against the wall and started sob.
~~~
"Oh, if only I had the time, I'd make him writhe," a sibilant voice promised in cold fury and Jasper glanced sharply at Alice, the usually perky and good-natured raven haired vampire casting baleful glares at the retreating figure of the overly muscular youth slouching away with dejection and frustration evident in tense quality of his stiff gait.
"He's done something that bad?" Jasper stated more than questioned and Alice merely growled, a hint of fang peeking out as she curled one corner of her lip in derision.
"Alice!" Jasper warned, his tone taking on the brush of command he rarely used with his family and Alice reacted, pulling herself back together, willing the crimson eyes of vengeance and bloodlust back with great effort. All her instincts were screaming at her to take out what could be a threat to her coven, her family, and it wasn't easy. The visions came quickly, the outcomes were debated, even though they were sketchy at best for despite being not quite human, that part that was 'not quite' was interfering in her true vision, so she had to settle for these vague indicators of paths and decisions that might affect the outcome she wanted.
Pouting, Alice opened her eyes to share an unhappy gaze with her Jasper, he could see her clear desire to hunt at odds with what needed to be done, which was necessary. He'd been with her for enough years to recognize this and like the soldier he had been, awaited his orders.
"I'll be fine. It's just the things I've seen about...him in his previous, current, and various future lives really makes me not like his continued existence," Alice gave an unnecessary explanation, her shrug like a signal that eased the remaining tension out of her and helped her focus on the task at hand. Jasper kept his eyes upon Alice, ever alert for any indication all was not well, and Alice smiled wanly as she raked her fingers through her short crop of hair, sending the soft spikes gently swaying.
"Well then, now that that's out of my system, we wait."
"Wait?" Jasper cocked a questioning brow and Alice gave an almost sheepish smile.
"Wait and see," she winked back audaciously and then rose to find a better spot of their prey. Both vampires could hear the sound of weeping, harsh sobs that began in a hiccupped cry, and gradually increasing to an almost wailing keen.
"Didn't we just leave this?" Jasper winced as his enhanced hearing picked up the cries and sighed, while Alice gave a wan smile.
"Just wait," she promised sadly.
~~~
It seemed that once she began to cry she just couldn't stop. She would have figured she'd have no more tears left to cry, but apparently she was mistaken. And that made her mad. Suddenly and voraciously overcome with a burning sense of rage and anger Liz threw her head back and released a shriek of pain and anger, the guttural sound almost like a war-cry.
It felt so good to get that off her chest, she screamed again and found that she needed something more. To bolster that rage, Liz shot up off the floor and in the final ray of the fading light she launched herself at the university pendants and ripped them off the wall. That felt just as good as her war-cry, and another cry that was more triumph than anger, she attacked her room. Posters were torn from the wall and ripped to shreds, picture frames hurled at the walls, knick-knacks on the dresser were scooped up and tossed away to shatter with a satisfactory tinkling of broken glass filigree, textbooks were swept off shelves while the bookshelf itself was upended to join the desk in the middle of the floor.
She wasn't finished yet, she still had more fire and adrenaline coursing through her veins, and she couldn't stop anymore than she could keep her tears at bay or her war whoops silenced. She fell upon the bed like a woman possessed, and sheets and blankets went flying as they were unceremoniously yanked and pulled and ripped off, the mattress finding itself taking the lamp and nightstand along with it to block the bedroom door, and the box spring bearing indentions as her foot came down to pierce the matting in multiple sections. It felt so good to kick the box spring in that Liz spun in a roundhouse kick taken from memories of every action and horror movie she'd endured dating Kyle Valenti and felt a spurt of pleasure lick its way to burn the cold numbness away, and her bathroom door shook open with a splintered groan at the abuse.
Perfume bottles, first aid kit, vitamin and medicine bottles, toothpaste, and soap all came shooting past the dilapidated door like ballistic missiles, and the shower curtain screeched at being plucked so inelegantly down, curtain holders flying in all directions or the few remaining on the curtain rod whirling around like angry bees. The plunger met the mirror, shattering it like all her hopes and dreams had been shattered that fateful September day, and then it too was shattered as she beat in the ceramic pedastal sink.
Chest heaving with her exertions, Liz found herself in the middle of her room, and the reflection of the light coming from the security light on the building next door across the alley brought her attention to the mirror, angled so it had caught the light and Liz stared at the vision before her.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who was that bearing the wild eyed gaze of a trapped animal? Her hair was mussed and her clothes ragged and covered in a varied mix of plaster, dust, and debris. Her face, lately pale and pasty with stress and worry, was now flushed red, and there were ragged tears on knuckles and fingers that stung as soon as her gaze took them in.
Was this really her? Was this what she had become, been reduced to?
It was too much.
Loosing her loudest and most pained roar of all the grief and defiance she had within, she hurled herself and her fist across the room and scattered remains of her past right into the mirror on the wall. Still screaming, she wailed with fist and voice until both the image and the illustions clattered on the floor, and she continued still despite the liquid warmth running down her hands, wrists, and forearms to meet and puddle in the inner concave of her elbow before following the curve to drip down into the dust waiting to soak up the warm offering.
Awareness only returned when the familiar piercing shrill of a siren shattered the euphoric daze she had seemed tunnelled in, and fear prompted her feet into motion. She didn't want to deal with the police, or anyone else for that matter, and almost without conscious thought she found herself down in the alley between her childhood home and place of employment.
Spurred on by forces she didn't have time to contemplate, Liz took off into the night, never once looking back even as the sounds of law enforcement drew nearer.
~~~
"Now, we move," Alice ordered, and swiftly the pair bond seemed to vanish into thin air with nothing but the sound of the wind of their passage to record their ever having been in that spot.
~~~
TBC........
By Kristin aka Kiara Alexis Klay
Genre: crossover - Roswell, Twilight book series
Disclaimer: Neither the show Roswell, nor the Twilight series is mine. I am just dabbling in the world for a bit. The title is taken from the Evanescence song Bring Me to Life off their album, Fallen. That's not mine either though I like it perhaps a little too much.
Rating: Adult -- WARNING - Graphic scenes of violence ahead -- Read at your own risk.
Pairing: mentions of CC pairings of past/present (for both TW & Ros), UC pairings (Liz Parker/ Edward Cullen)
Synopsis: What would have happened if Bella had chosen the other man...and what would Edward's family do to get him out of his funk? What would happen if Liz didn't forget the last few weeks of loneliness and persecution for trying to find Alex's killer?
A/N: Here's the next installment of the Eventide mini-series, that started with Goodbye to Yesterday. I hope you enjoy!
~~~
how can you see into my eyes
like open doors
leading you down into my core
where I've become so numb
without a soul my spirit sleeping somewhere cold
until you find it there
and lead it back home ~Evanescence, Bring Me to Life
~~~
Elizabeth Parker was within the shadows of her room, sitting on the floor with her back braced against the wall, the window above and to the left of where she sat curled in on herself. The adrenaline and rushing need that had driven her these last few weeks had gradually worn off faster than she had anticipated, and the fall from the high was just that: a fall. The numbness had first begun when she'd realized that the ship that blasted off into Earth's atmosphere was actually occupied by a living hybrid, that Max had allowed the continuous existence of a traitor who was now enroute to the enemy with important information on the group and their capabilities, not to mention images, and she soon felt like a sieve as all thoughts and coherency seemed to vanish.
Once she'd recovered from the initial shock and became aware she was in Max's embrace - something that once would have caused her joy - now only served to make her feel sick beneath that icy, leaden numbness, and without a word she had reeled back faster than a striking snake. Wide, disbelieving eyes never took their accusing stare off of Max as she avoided the reaching hands offering safety and stability, and she was shaking her head even as she turned away.
No, to the fact that her best friend was still and cold and decomposing in his grave, while his murderer was allowed to live, allowed another opportunity to hurt, to destroy. It was all too much.
So here she sat, alive of sorts, in the deepening shadows of her room, alone in the house as her parents were once again away to some convention, and hiding. Hiding from the pain, hiding from the reality, hiding from being spotted if Max decided he needed to come over to 'make sure she's alright', and just hiding in general.
She would have laughed and cried at how pathetic she was if she could muster the strength to care.
Her eyes and limbs started drooping as the twilight deepened in time with her apathy, unheeding and uncaring of the cold, hard surfaces she was pressed against, not even noticing as her body started shivering to try to keep her core temperature up. She heard movement, the sound of a leather sole screeching against the textured tarmac of her balcony, the soft crunch a warning of a familiar stride.
Roused from her lethargy for the moment, the thought that she was annoyed stuck out the most even as she scuttled silently against the wall, keeping herself small and in the darkest shadows, hidden from sight as the crunching stopped, and Liz knew from experience that a ghostly pale face would be peering into the window, searching, seeking....demanding.
Leave me alone! I have nothing to say and no ears to hear, she mentally begged the once-welcome intruder...and Liz felt she should be more surprised at the thought that she really felt that way now. Max was intruding, and he was most certainly not welcome in her home, her bedroom....her life, anymore. He'd made it perfectly clear the last few weeks that she meant nothing to him, he didn't respect her, or her wishes, or her instincts and insights unless and until they were convenient for him and she was heartily sick of it.
Slowly, she wrapped her arms around her legs and tucked them in close as she pressed as close as she could against the wall, the corner, wishing even as she did that she could melt into the shadows and never have to see the harsh dawn of tomorrow, of another day spent without the joy her friend had brought, or the comfort and escape he had offered even when she was at odds with the rest of the group. She held her breath and willed her heart to stop beating so frantically, willed herself to be stone, to be anywhere but here.
It seemed like an eternity had passed before she heard the deep, sigh of disappointment and was that a bit of frustration? She felt the smirk cover her face as she literally felt the pause, she practically could see the thoughts run through his head and passing across his eyes: dare he enter her room, her sanctum, without her permission, invade it so obviously, so forcefully? Finally...finally she heard the sound she'd been hoping for, the sound of those same leather soles scuffling across the balcony, almost dragging with their owner's reluctance as if he were giving her a chance to pop out, flag him down, and beg for even daring to defy him his presence in her conscious attention.
When she was absolutely certain that he wasn't going to come back, that she was safe, she sagged back against the wall and started sob.
~~~
"Oh, if only I had the time, I'd make him writhe," a sibilant voice promised in cold fury and Jasper glanced sharply at Alice, the usually perky and good-natured raven haired vampire casting baleful glares at the retreating figure of the overly muscular youth slouching away with dejection and frustration evident in tense quality of his stiff gait.
"He's done something that bad?" Jasper stated more than questioned and Alice merely growled, a hint of fang peeking out as she curled one corner of her lip in derision.
"Alice!" Jasper warned, his tone taking on the brush of command he rarely used with his family and Alice reacted, pulling herself back together, willing the crimson eyes of vengeance and bloodlust back with great effort. All her instincts were screaming at her to take out what could be a threat to her coven, her family, and it wasn't easy. The visions came quickly, the outcomes were debated, even though they were sketchy at best for despite being not quite human, that part that was 'not quite' was interfering in her true vision, so she had to settle for these vague indicators of paths and decisions that might affect the outcome she wanted.
Pouting, Alice opened her eyes to share an unhappy gaze with her Jasper, he could see her clear desire to hunt at odds with what needed to be done, which was necessary. He'd been with her for enough years to recognize this and like the soldier he had been, awaited his orders.
"I'll be fine. It's just the things I've seen about...him in his previous, current, and various future lives really makes me not like his continued existence," Alice gave an unnecessary explanation, her shrug like a signal that eased the remaining tension out of her and helped her focus on the task at hand. Jasper kept his eyes upon Alice, ever alert for any indication all was not well, and Alice smiled wanly as she raked her fingers through her short crop of hair, sending the soft spikes gently swaying.
"Well then, now that that's out of my system, we wait."
"Wait?" Jasper cocked a questioning brow and Alice gave an almost sheepish smile.
"Wait and see," she winked back audaciously and then rose to find a better spot of their prey. Both vampires could hear the sound of weeping, harsh sobs that began in a hiccupped cry, and gradually increasing to an almost wailing keen.
"Didn't we just leave this?" Jasper winced as his enhanced hearing picked up the cries and sighed, while Alice gave a wan smile.
"Just wait," she promised sadly.
~~~
It seemed that once she began to cry she just couldn't stop. She would have figured she'd have no more tears left to cry, but apparently she was mistaken. And that made her mad. Suddenly and voraciously overcome with a burning sense of rage and anger Liz threw her head back and released a shriek of pain and anger, the guttural sound almost like a war-cry.
It felt so good to get that off her chest, she screamed again and found that she needed something more. To bolster that rage, Liz shot up off the floor and in the final ray of the fading light she launched herself at the university pendants and ripped them off the wall. That felt just as good as her war-cry, and another cry that was more triumph than anger, she attacked her room. Posters were torn from the wall and ripped to shreds, picture frames hurled at the walls, knick-knacks on the dresser were scooped up and tossed away to shatter with a satisfactory tinkling of broken glass filigree, textbooks were swept off shelves while the bookshelf itself was upended to join the desk in the middle of the floor.
She wasn't finished yet, she still had more fire and adrenaline coursing through her veins, and she couldn't stop anymore than she could keep her tears at bay or her war whoops silenced. She fell upon the bed like a woman possessed, and sheets and blankets went flying as they were unceremoniously yanked and pulled and ripped off, the mattress finding itself taking the lamp and nightstand along with it to block the bedroom door, and the box spring bearing indentions as her foot came down to pierce the matting in multiple sections. It felt so good to kick the box spring in that Liz spun in a roundhouse kick taken from memories of every action and horror movie she'd endured dating Kyle Valenti and felt a spurt of pleasure lick its way to burn the cold numbness away, and her bathroom door shook open with a splintered groan at the abuse.
Perfume bottles, first aid kit, vitamin and medicine bottles, toothpaste, and soap all came shooting past the dilapidated door like ballistic missiles, and the shower curtain screeched at being plucked so inelegantly down, curtain holders flying in all directions or the few remaining on the curtain rod whirling around like angry bees. The plunger met the mirror, shattering it like all her hopes and dreams had been shattered that fateful September day, and then it too was shattered as she beat in the ceramic pedastal sink.
Chest heaving with her exertions, Liz found herself in the middle of her room, and the reflection of the light coming from the security light on the building next door across the alley brought her attention to the mirror, angled so it had caught the light and Liz stared at the vision before her.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who was that bearing the wild eyed gaze of a trapped animal? Her hair was mussed and her clothes ragged and covered in a varied mix of plaster, dust, and debris. Her face, lately pale and pasty with stress and worry, was now flushed red, and there were ragged tears on knuckles and fingers that stung as soon as her gaze took them in.
Was this really her? Was this what she had become, been reduced to?
It was too much.
Loosing her loudest and most pained roar of all the grief and defiance she had within, she hurled herself and her fist across the room and scattered remains of her past right into the mirror on the wall. Still screaming, she wailed with fist and voice until both the image and the illustions clattered on the floor, and she continued still despite the liquid warmth running down her hands, wrists, and forearms to meet and puddle in the inner concave of her elbow before following the curve to drip down into the dust waiting to soak up the warm offering.
Awareness only returned when the familiar piercing shrill of a siren shattered the euphoric daze she had seemed tunnelled in, and fear prompted her feet into motion. She didn't want to deal with the police, or anyone else for that matter, and almost without conscious thought she found herself down in the alley between her childhood home and place of employment.
Spurred on by forces she didn't have time to contemplate, Liz took off into the night, never once looking back even as the sounds of law enforcement drew nearer.
~~~
"Now, we move," Alice ordered, and swiftly the pair bond seemed to vanish into thin air with nothing but the sound of the wind of their passage to record their ever having been in that spot.
~~~
TBC........
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Re: I, Liz (Multi XO, MATURE, cc/uc) 1/27
Porcelain Heart
By Kristin aka Kiara Alexis Klay
Genre : roswell, twilight, crossover, au, uc
Disclaimer: Niether Roswell, nor the Twilight series, or even the title of the fic is mine claim. The title is taken from a song of the same name written and sung by Barlow Girl off of their album Just Another Journal Entry.
Rating: Teen to Mature this installment
Pairings: Main pairing so far Alice/Jasper; eventual Liz/Edward -- cc for most of the Twilight cast, cc/uc for Roswell couples
Author's Note: I couldn't leave you all hanging for too long. This has been swirling in my mind for a while but I've been too busy to jot it down here recently. I hope you enjoy. And yes it is short but I needed to update this.
~~~
Broken heart, one more time
Pick yourself up, why even cry
Broken pieces in your hands
Wonder how you’ll make it whole
You know, you pray
This can’t be the way
You cry, you say
Something’s gotta change
And mend this porcelain heart of mine
Someone said “A broken heart
Would sting at first, then make you stronger”
You wonder why, this pain remains
Were hearts made whole just to break? ~Porcelain Heart, Barlow Girl, Just Another Journal Entry
~~~
She ran.
She ran for what seemed like hours, like a frightened animal desperately seeking sanctuary from the looming shadow threatening to consume the life out of her. She ran as she had never had before, as she never did in gym class, not even that night that Nasedo had kidnapped and stalked her. She ran until the air pierced her throat and lungs with each inhalation, until her ribs screeched their indignation.
She ran until her feet, ankles, and legs threatened to collapse under the strain; she ran until the glass fell from her clenched fists to trail after her in a tinkling, crimson train and slivers of wood dug themselves deeper.
She ran with no destination only the knowledge that she had to. She ran because she knew there was no going back, that there was nothing but death, isolation, and bitter disappointment awaiting her if she stayed.
She slowed down to a light jog to give her winded self a few moments rest, hardly noticing as the ground beneath her feet shifted from asphalted tarmac to compacted desert until a misplaced step caused her tired legs to finally give in, and she plopped inelegantly face first into the dirt.
Spluttering dust out of her mouth, and sneezing out whatever remained; Liz forced herself to move forward. She hadn't come this far, for what it was worth, only to have her body fail. Crawling on hands and knees, she pushed forward and then immediately wished she hadn’t. The dips and wide expanse of desert had masked a depression and once she pitched forward she couldn’t stop.
While not too awfully deep, the incline was staggered and pitted with sharp rocks and bramble that cut and tore into her already bruised skin. When she finally came to a stop at the bottom of the miniature gully, she just lay there in the tepid water that had gathered there, exhausted.
Liz groaned and gave a hiss as something gave a sickeningly squishy-sounding pop and then there was nothing but a bloom of fiery pain from the general direction of her ribs on her left side. Panting through the worst of it, it seemed like every ache and wound decided to cash in on their fair share of the agony, and Liz blacked out for a few moments until the shock of liquid cold from the water woke her up.
Liz used only enough energy to rest her head on a small ledge to keep it above water, and shivering, she felt herself start to drift off as the pain simply became too much.
~~~
“Jasper, hurry, hurry! This way!”
Jasper had no real need for Alice’s directions to find the girl; the scent of her blood was more than enough for his well honed predator’s instinct to track easily. Oddly enough, the girl’s blood spoor did not bring about the usual bloodlust reaction. There was something…Other…about the girl’s blood, and while it was interesting the madness of The Hunger didn’t grip him. Jasper knew he would be talking to Alice about his strange non-reaction but it would have to wait until later.
With the speed of their kind, Alice and Jasper found the girl very quickly, and Jasper wasn’t the only one to hiss in displeasure. Even though she knew that this was the best route for her family, Alice hated seeing the pain and the result of so much hardship in this one’s few years.
Looking grim and serious for almost the first time since he met her, Jasper was just as worried over Alice as the condition they found the girl in. As if she possessed Edward’s gift of telepathy, Alice swung her gaze up to meet his own, and a small smile flickered across her face momentarily.
“I will be fine, Jasper. Let’s get her ready to go home.”
~~~
“Are they here yet?”
Impatience stamping her features, Rosalie ignored the mildly scolding glance of reproof Esme shot her way as she paced across the open confine of the Cullen living room.
“Be patient, Rose,” Esme soothed by habit, but her shaking hands fluttering about to smooth an imaginary wrinkle off of her immaculate dress slacks gave belied her own nervousness.
Emmett merely watched, uncharacteristically still and silent, as his lifemate did her best to wear a track in the smoothly polished hardwood. He, too, was just as interested in the answers to Rosalie’s questions, so he didn’t feel a need to speak up just yet.
He was curious, as they all were, since Jasper’s phone call almost a day ago had wrought the most life in the Cullen house that had been lacking since….the Incident. Jasper hadn’t talked long, never one for words, only requested that Carlisle prepare the guest room for a ‘mortal’ guest to be treated and be recuperating for an indefinite period of time. He also relayed that Alice wanted Carlisle to meet them at the private airstrip the family had used in times past when discretion was of higher safety than a simple cover story would suffice.
So here it was, nearly 24 hours since that phone call and Carlisle had been gone a little less than two hours ago to meet the prodigal Cullens who had taken off on another of Alice’s little jaunts. Even Edward had been roused from his brooding sulking long enough to be informed of the new tenant, not that he had ventured out of his room yet.
As one, the three stopped all activity, no trace of humanity left as even the very un-needed breath stilled unused in their lungs, focus and senses entirely stretched outward, seeking.
“It’s them,” Emmett stated, rattling out on a stale breath.
“They’re a few miles out!” Rosalie tutted about, for once at a loss and Emmett could relate. Who was this mysterious ‘mortal’ of Alice and Jasper’s, and why was she needed here, amongst their kind?
They heard Alice’s clear, almost child-like voice first and as one the watchful three breathed a sigh of relief. If Alice was okay, then Jasper was sure to be as well, and the Cullen family was as whole as it could be. Next was Jasper’s low, drawling tones and Esme perked up as she clearly heard Carlisle replying back.
The next instant they were tense all over as they recognized Carlisle’s ‘doctor’ voice, snapping out directions to the other two, and Emmett prepared himself the same instant Rosalie and Esme shared wide, panicked glances.
Alice burst into the house first, looked at the other three with a smile but was soon distracted holding open the door as Jasper bounded in, a smallish looking bundle in his arms, Carlisle hovering anxiously over that small something, heading without fail toward the staircase.
“Hello everybody, I know we weren’t gone long enough to really be missed, but I missed you all! And so did Jasper even if he never will admit to it, and I’m really sorry we worried you all, what with Edward and…the Incident, wow we like really need to come up with a better name, discrete my vampire pale derriere,” Alice babbled as Jasper and Carlisle disappeared up the stairs with nary a n acknowledging nod to the others still gathered in the foyer.
“Alice, what was that?” Rosalie gestured to the now empty stairs, even as the four made their way by some invisible pull.
“Oh, that’s our newest houseguest, she’s going to be staying with us for a while, she’s really been through a lot, so Rose, don’t be mean I mean it,” Alice warned as she pouted prettily at the slightly taller she-vampire and Emmett relaxed just enough to give his pseudo-‘sister’ a hug and a ‘welcome home’.
“Let’s not dawdle, children, and see our visitor,” Esme advised, effectively breaking into the argument you didn’t need Alice’s visions of the future to predict was coming. One look at the glower on the younger blonde’s face and she held back a sigh.
The four gathered outside the room that they would have known to be their newest guests even if they hadn’t smelled the blood…and even the door that had been ominously shut and barred for the last several weeks was cracked open just the barest of slivers.
By Kristin aka Kiara Alexis Klay
Genre : roswell, twilight, crossover, au, uc
Disclaimer: Niether Roswell, nor the Twilight series, or even the title of the fic is mine claim. The title is taken from a song of the same name written and sung by Barlow Girl off of their album Just Another Journal Entry.
Rating: Teen to Mature this installment
Pairings: Main pairing so far Alice/Jasper; eventual Liz/Edward -- cc for most of the Twilight cast, cc/uc for Roswell couples
Author's Note: I couldn't leave you all hanging for too long. This has been swirling in my mind for a while but I've been too busy to jot it down here recently. I hope you enjoy. And yes it is short but I needed to update this.
~~~
Broken heart, one more time
Pick yourself up, why even cry
Broken pieces in your hands
Wonder how you’ll make it whole
You know, you pray
This can’t be the way
You cry, you say
Something’s gotta change
And mend this porcelain heart of mine
Someone said “A broken heart
Would sting at first, then make you stronger”
You wonder why, this pain remains
Were hearts made whole just to break? ~Porcelain Heart, Barlow Girl, Just Another Journal Entry
~~~
She ran.
She ran for what seemed like hours, like a frightened animal desperately seeking sanctuary from the looming shadow threatening to consume the life out of her. She ran as she had never had before, as she never did in gym class, not even that night that Nasedo had kidnapped and stalked her. She ran until the air pierced her throat and lungs with each inhalation, until her ribs screeched their indignation.
She ran until her feet, ankles, and legs threatened to collapse under the strain; she ran until the glass fell from her clenched fists to trail after her in a tinkling, crimson train and slivers of wood dug themselves deeper.
She ran with no destination only the knowledge that she had to. She ran because she knew there was no going back, that there was nothing but death, isolation, and bitter disappointment awaiting her if she stayed.
She slowed down to a light jog to give her winded self a few moments rest, hardly noticing as the ground beneath her feet shifted from asphalted tarmac to compacted desert until a misplaced step caused her tired legs to finally give in, and she plopped inelegantly face first into the dirt.
Spluttering dust out of her mouth, and sneezing out whatever remained; Liz forced herself to move forward. She hadn't come this far, for what it was worth, only to have her body fail. Crawling on hands and knees, she pushed forward and then immediately wished she hadn’t. The dips and wide expanse of desert had masked a depression and once she pitched forward she couldn’t stop.
While not too awfully deep, the incline was staggered and pitted with sharp rocks and bramble that cut and tore into her already bruised skin. When she finally came to a stop at the bottom of the miniature gully, she just lay there in the tepid water that had gathered there, exhausted.
Liz groaned and gave a hiss as something gave a sickeningly squishy-sounding pop and then there was nothing but a bloom of fiery pain from the general direction of her ribs on her left side. Panting through the worst of it, it seemed like every ache and wound decided to cash in on their fair share of the agony, and Liz blacked out for a few moments until the shock of liquid cold from the water woke her up.
Liz used only enough energy to rest her head on a small ledge to keep it above water, and shivering, she felt herself start to drift off as the pain simply became too much.
~~~
“Jasper, hurry, hurry! This way!”
Jasper had no real need for Alice’s directions to find the girl; the scent of her blood was more than enough for his well honed predator’s instinct to track easily. Oddly enough, the girl’s blood spoor did not bring about the usual bloodlust reaction. There was something…Other…about the girl’s blood, and while it was interesting the madness of The Hunger didn’t grip him. Jasper knew he would be talking to Alice about his strange non-reaction but it would have to wait until later.
With the speed of their kind, Alice and Jasper found the girl very quickly, and Jasper wasn’t the only one to hiss in displeasure. Even though she knew that this was the best route for her family, Alice hated seeing the pain and the result of so much hardship in this one’s few years.
Looking grim and serious for almost the first time since he met her, Jasper was just as worried over Alice as the condition they found the girl in. As if she possessed Edward’s gift of telepathy, Alice swung her gaze up to meet his own, and a small smile flickered across her face momentarily.
“I will be fine, Jasper. Let’s get her ready to go home.”
~~~
“Are they here yet?”
Impatience stamping her features, Rosalie ignored the mildly scolding glance of reproof Esme shot her way as she paced across the open confine of the Cullen living room.
“Be patient, Rose,” Esme soothed by habit, but her shaking hands fluttering about to smooth an imaginary wrinkle off of her immaculate dress slacks gave belied her own nervousness.
Emmett merely watched, uncharacteristically still and silent, as his lifemate did her best to wear a track in the smoothly polished hardwood. He, too, was just as interested in the answers to Rosalie’s questions, so he didn’t feel a need to speak up just yet.
He was curious, as they all were, since Jasper’s phone call almost a day ago had wrought the most life in the Cullen house that had been lacking since….the Incident. Jasper hadn’t talked long, never one for words, only requested that Carlisle prepare the guest room for a ‘mortal’ guest to be treated and be recuperating for an indefinite period of time. He also relayed that Alice wanted Carlisle to meet them at the private airstrip the family had used in times past when discretion was of higher safety than a simple cover story would suffice.
So here it was, nearly 24 hours since that phone call and Carlisle had been gone a little less than two hours ago to meet the prodigal Cullens who had taken off on another of Alice’s little jaunts. Even Edward had been roused from his brooding sulking long enough to be informed of the new tenant, not that he had ventured out of his room yet.
As one, the three stopped all activity, no trace of humanity left as even the very un-needed breath stilled unused in their lungs, focus and senses entirely stretched outward, seeking.
“It’s them,” Emmett stated, rattling out on a stale breath.
“They’re a few miles out!” Rosalie tutted about, for once at a loss and Emmett could relate. Who was this mysterious ‘mortal’ of Alice and Jasper’s, and why was she needed here, amongst their kind?
They heard Alice’s clear, almost child-like voice first and as one the watchful three breathed a sigh of relief. If Alice was okay, then Jasper was sure to be as well, and the Cullen family was as whole as it could be. Next was Jasper’s low, drawling tones and Esme perked up as she clearly heard Carlisle replying back.
The next instant they were tense all over as they recognized Carlisle’s ‘doctor’ voice, snapping out directions to the other two, and Emmett prepared himself the same instant Rosalie and Esme shared wide, panicked glances.
Alice burst into the house first, looked at the other three with a smile but was soon distracted holding open the door as Jasper bounded in, a smallish looking bundle in his arms, Carlisle hovering anxiously over that small something, heading without fail toward the staircase.
“Hello everybody, I know we weren’t gone long enough to really be missed, but I missed you all! And so did Jasper even if he never will admit to it, and I’m really sorry we worried you all, what with Edward and…the Incident, wow we like really need to come up with a better name, discrete my vampire pale derriere,” Alice babbled as Jasper and Carlisle disappeared up the stairs with nary a n acknowledging nod to the others still gathered in the foyer.
“Alice, what was that?” Rosalie gestured to the now empty stairs, even as the four made their way by some invisible pull.
“Oh, that’s our newest houseguest, she’s going to be staying with us for a while, she’s really been through a lot, so Rose, don’t be mean I mean it,” Alice warned as she pouted prettily at the slightly taller she-vampire and Emmett relaxed just enough to give his pseudo-‘sister’ a hug and a ‘welcome home’.
“Let’s not dawdle, children, and see our visitor,” Esme advised, effectively breaking into the argument you didn’t need Alice’s visions of the future to predict was coming. One look at the glower on the younger blonde’s face and she held back a sigh.
The four gathered outside the room that they would have known to be their newest guests even if they hadn’t smelled the blood…and even the door that had been ominously shut and barred for the last several weeks was cracked open just the barest of slivers.
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Re: I, Liz (Multi XO, MATURE, cc/uc) 5-2-09
Date with Death
By Kristin aka KiaraAlexisKlay
Crossover; Anita Blake Vampire Hunter Series, Roswell, AU
Disclaimer: A big fat, NOT MINE. ABVHS belongs to Laurell K Hamilton and Roswell to Melinda Metz and Jason Katims.
Characters: Liz; Death aka Edward (assassin) aka Ted Forrester (bounty hunter); mentions of Donna, Peter, and Becca Purnell.
Rating: Mature only because this is darker themed than my usual.
Author’s Note: Definite alternate universe and not just because this is a crossover. Set before Obsidian Butterfly for the Anita verse and post-Graduation for the Roswell crew. If you have not read Obsidian Butterfly than some of the characters and events from the Anita verse will be unfamiliar to you.
~~~
Liz gave a heartfelt sigh, inhaling a lungful of steam and blowing it out in a gusty whoosh, giving a Stonewall worthy glare at her bedraggled likeness staring back at her like a drowned puppy across the mirror. Messy wisps of her hair clumped together across her forehead and her scrubbed face, always tan even in winter thanks to a Mexican and Indian ancestor somewhere down her line, made her eyes seem bigger than ever, and very young.
At least until you saw the expression in them. Then there was no way you would think of her as anything other than a wounded soul, a survivor who picked herself back up and stood on her own two feet no matter what. It was defeated…not quite, but it was weary, and there was a wealth of pain and knowledge of being over the edge and coming back with just that much less of her soul that made others cringe and shy away back to their delusions and facades, avoiding her knowing stare in a rush to deny the conviction and accountability in that thousand yard gaze.
“Snap out of it girl…it’s not the end of the world,” she laughed without humor at herself and the private joke, and then got down to the business that had brought her to her shower before the end of her normal evening shift.
She opened the door and walked into her room, the cramped confines oddly comforting as she stripped off her towel and shimmied into the low rise lacy bikini bottoms and slipped on a comfortable pair of rust colored pleather slacks slung low on her hips.
“Shirt, shirt, shirt,” Liz mumbled, rifling through the different clothes arrayed on the portable closet rack for people who didn’t have space enough for a closet. She gave a low hmmm in her throat as she pulled out her splurge item of the last six months, a slinky halter top made of lace and satin the color the darkest crimson, almost a burgundy so dark was the red.
Carefully so her damp hair wouldn’t drip too much over the smooth material Liz had it over her head and was adjusting the snug fit before even a drop could fall. The under layer was satin and the halter actually plunged almost to her navel, the satin material held in place by the sheer lace that overlaid the rest of the shirt, giving the illusion of modesty as part of that lace went across her chest like a camisole. The back was practically nonexistent except for the small strip on the bottom and the actual halter itself. Between the rust pants and the deep crimson color of her shirt, Liz’s natural tawny gold coloring was brought to the fore and Liz knew she would look good.
Liz grabbed the towel off of her bed and gave her hair a vigorous scrub, finally running her fingers through the shorn locks, reveling in the breeze around her shoulders and the lack of heavy weight that had been the hallmark of her longer hair when she was younger. Now the longest strand barely came past her chin although the back layers brushed slightly past her neck and shoulders. She absolutely loved the new haircut and her tips over the past week had improved as her regulars approved as well.
“Stupid friends and passing off their blind dates on their friends,” Liz grumbled as she put on a light layer of makeup, just some shimmery eye shadow, eyeliner, and mascara, appropriate for a first date but which could also be jazzed up with some thicker application should she choose. Liz didn’t even mess with lipstick, using her SoftLips© vanilla flavored chapstick, and that was it.
Grabbing her good pair of dress shoes, which were actually black spike heeled boots with only an inch to the heel - tall enough to give her a bit of extra height but short and thick enough she could run, or fight, with – she zipped them on and grabbed a collared tailored vest which adequately masked the daring plunge of her halter, giving the not so innocent halter a layered, sweet and sassy classic feel. Professional casual, if your work allowed for sleeveless. Depending on how the date went would determine if the mystery man would get to enjoy and appreciate what was underneath. If it went south, then she could still salvage what was left of the night and hit one of the numerous clubs in the city and enjoy a night to herself.
Not even bothering with any perfume or jewelry aside from her watch – she was going on someone else’s unwanted blind date for heaven’s sake! – Liz grabbed up her keys and clutch and headed out the door.
~~~
The restaurant was trendy yet affordable, definitely one that you would bring someone to for a date or anniversary, and it was barely a year old, part of the new developments that were popping up around Santa Fe as the Baby Boomers decided to retire to a more temperate climate with only two seasons – hot and slightly less hot (known as the rainy season). Laid back enough that a good pair of jeans and a decent shirt would not be out of place but upscale enough a host (or hostess) was there to greet and seat.
Liz tapped down the nervousness rising from her stomach, the same stomach that rebelled at the thought of eating in front of a stranger who was there for the express purpose of seeing if they wanted to ‘see’ each other after this first encounter. Despite the pep talk, Liz was mentally cursing whatever luck had caused her boss and friend-who-skipped-a-blind-date to have to stay home with her two sick children and just happened to catch whatever flu or bug that her children had to boot.
Mentally she went over exactly what she had been told of her ‘date’. Slim, well-built, blonde and a bounty hunter was what she remembered hearing about in between bouts of sniffles, sneezes, and coughs. That and he was also the local vampire executioner for the state of New Mexico, as well as parts of Arizona and Nevada. Her boss had been set up with the man through a mutual acquaintance who thought the idea of a New Age shopkeeper (her boss) and a licensed bounty hunter/vampire executioner was hilarious.
Liz had thought so too until she had been roped into taking the blind date in her boss’ place.
“It’s going to be okay,” she muttered as the host (yes, a man, well young man dressed in all black and a pair of dress slacks that really showed off a cute butt) led her further into the restaurant. She followed her guide through the maze of booths and tables with her head held high and no hesitation in her stride, ignoring the stares of the passing patrons, her own eyes scanning and noting the number, placement and distance between the exits out of habit, a little over half of her attention on her surroundings even as she was aware of where she was being led.
A warning shiver like the icy caress of death crawled up her spine and even before she knew it, her eyes focused toward the origin of that assessing gaze. She found herself locking eyes with the most arresting pair of eyes the color and warmth of a glacier in the Arctic, and Liz had unnerving feeling that not only did he know what she had been doing but also understood to some degree why. And wouldn’t you know that was the man that she was led to.
“Donna you owe me for eternity,” Liz placed a pleasant smile that never touched her eyes out of habit, years of dealing with the public coming to the fore, and she couldn’t help but notice that his smile never reached his wintry eyes either.
And so Liz sat down to begin her date with Death.
~~~
TBC…?
~~~
By Kristin aka KiaraAlexisKlay
Crossover; Anita Blake Vampire Hunter Series, Roswell, AU
Disclaimer: A big fat, NOT MINE. ABVHS belongs to Laurell K Hamilton and Roswell to Melinda Metz and Jason Katims.
Characters: Liz; Death aka Edward (assassin) aka Ted Forrester (bounty hunter); mentions of Donna, Peter, and Becca Purnell.
Rating: Mature only because this is darker themed than my usual.
Author’s Note: Definite alternate universe and not just because this is a crossover. Set before Obsidian Butterfly for the Anita verse and post-Graduation for the Roswell crew. If you have not read Obsidian Butterfly than some of the characters and events from the Anita verse will be unfamiliar to you.
~~~
Liz gave a heartfelt sigh, inhaling a lungful of steam and blowing it out in a gusty whoosh, giving a Stonewall worthy glare at her bedraggled likeness staring back at her like a drowned puppy across the mirror. Messy wisps of her hair clumped together across her forehead and her scrubbed face, always tan even in winter thanks to a Mexican and Indian ancestor somewhere down her line, made her eyes seem bigger than ever, and very young.
At least until you saw the expression in them. Then there was no way you would think of her as anything other than a wounded soul, a survivor who picked herself back up and stood on her own two feet no matter what. It was defeated…not quite, but it was weary, and there was a wealth of pain and knowledge of being over the edge and coming back with just that much less of her soul that made others cringe and shy away back to their delusions and facades, avoiding her knowing stare in a rush to deny the conviction and accountability in that thousand yard gaze.
“Snap out of it girl…it’s not the end of the world,” she laughed without humor at herself and the private joke, and then got down to the business that had brought her to her shower before the end of her normal evening shift.
She opened the door and walked into her room, the cramped confines oddly comforting as she stripped off her towel and shimmied into the low rise lacy bikini bottoms and slipped on a comfortable pair of rust colored pleather slacks slung low on her hips.
“Shirt, shirt, shirt,” Liz mumbled, rifling through the different clothes arrayed on the portable closet rack for people who didn’t have space enough for a closet. She gave a low hmmm in her throat as she pulled out her splurge item of the last six months, a slinky halter top made of lace and satin the color the darkest crimson, almost a burgundy so dark was the red.
Carefully so her damp hair wouldn’t drip too much over the smooth material Liz had it over her head and was adjusting the snug fit before even a drop could fall. The under layer was satin and the halter actually plunged almost to her navel, the satin material held in place by the sheer lace that overlaid the rest of the shirt, giving the illusion of modesty as part of that lace went across her chest like a camisole. The back was practically nonexistent except for the small strip on the bottom and the actual halter itself. Between the rust pants and the deep crimson color of her shirt, Liz’s natural tawny gold coloring was brought to the fore and Liz knew she would look good.
Liz grabbed the towel off of her bed and gave her hair a vigorous scrub, finally running her fingers through the shorn locks, reveling in the breeze around her shoulders and the lack of heavy weight that had been the hallmark of her longer hair when she was younger. Now the longest strand barely came past her chin although the back layers brushed slightly past her neck and shoulders. She absolutely loved the new haircut and her tips over the past week had improved as her regulars approved as well.
“Stupid friends and passing off their blind dates on their friends,” Liz grumbled as she put on a light layer of makeup, just some shimmery eye shadow, eyeliner, and mascara, appropriate for a first date but which could also be jazzed up with some thicker application should she choose. Liz didn’t even mess with lipstick, using her SoftLips© vanilla flavored chapstick, and that was it.
Grabbing her good pair of dress shoes, which were actually black spike heeled boots with only an inch to the heel - tall enough to give her a bit of extra height but short and thick enough she could run, or fight, with – she zipped them on and grabbed a collared tailored vest which adequately masked the daring plunge of her halter, giving the not so innocent halter a layered, sweet and sassy classic feel. Professional casual, if your work allowed for sleeveless. Depending on how the date went would determine if the mystery man would get to enjoy and appreciate what was underneath. If it went south, then she could still salvage what was left of the night and hit one of the numerous clubs in the city and enjoy a night to herself.
Not even bothering with any perfume or jewelry aside from her watch – she was going on someone else’s unwanted blind date for heaven’s sake! – Liz grabbed up her keys and clutch and headed out the door.
~~~
The restaurant was trendy yet affordable, definitely one that you would bring someone to for a date or anniversary, and it was barely a year old, part of the new developments that were popping up around Santa Fe as the Baby Boomers decided to retire to a more temperate climate with only two seasons – hot and slightly less hot (known as the rainy season). Laid back enough that a good pair of jeans and a decent shirt would not be out of place but upscale enough a host (or hostess) was there to greet and seat.
Liz tapped down the nervousness rising from her stomach, the same stomach that rebelled at the thought of eating in front of a stranger who was there for the express purpose of seeing if they wanted to ‘see’ each other after this first encounter. Despite the pep talk, Liz was mentally cursing whatever luck had caused her boss and friend-who-skipped-a-blind-date to have to stay home with her two sick children and just happened to catch whatever flu or bug that her children had to boot.
Mentally she went over exactly what she had been told of her ‘date’. Slim, well-built, blonde and a bounty hunter was what she remembered hearing about in between bouts of sniffles, sneezes, and coughs. That and he was also the local vampire executioner for the state of New Mexico, as well as parts of Arizona and Nevada. Her boss had been set up with the man through a mutual acquaintance who thought the idea of a New Age shopkeeper (her boss) and a licensed bounty hunter/vampire executioner was hilarious.
Liz had thought so too until she had been roped into taking the blind date in her boss’ place.
“It’s going to be okay,” she muttered as the host (yes, a man, well young man dressed in all black and a pair of dress slacks that really showed off a cute butt) led her further into the restaurant. She followed her guide through the maze of booths and tables with her head held high and no hesitation in her stride, ignoring the stares of the passing patrons, her own eyes scanning and noting the number, placement and distance between the exits out of habit, a little over half of her attention on her surroundings even as she was aware of where she was being led.
A warning shiver like the icy caress of death crawled up her spine and even before she knew it, her eyes focused toward the origin of that assessing gaze. She found herself locking eyes with the most arresting pair of eyes the color and warmth of a glacier in the Arctic, and Liz had unnerving feeling that not only did he know what she had been doing but also understood to some degree why. And wouldn’t you know that was the man that she was led to.
“Donna you owe me for eternity,” Liz placed a pleasant smile that never touched her eyes out of habit, years of dealing with the public coming to the fore, and she couldn’t help but notice that his smile never reached his wintry eyes either.
And so Liz sat down to begin her date with Death.
~~~
TBC…?
~~~
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Re: I, Liz (Multi XO, MATURE, cc/uc) 5-2-09
Date With Death: Target Acquisition
Kristin aka KiaraAlexisKlay
Genre: Crossover, AU, Anita Blake Vampire Hunter Series; Roswell television series
Disclaimer: ABVHS belongs with Laurell K Hamilton; Roswell belongs to Melinda Metz and Jason Katims
Rating: Mature – um, hello, Edward the assassin named Death!
Characters: Ted Forrester/Edward; Liz Parker; mentions of Donna and Anita.
A/N: So I didn’t want to start yet another story arc, and I was actually really trying to finish the Twilight mini-series, and I was chanting Edward, Edward, Edward….and this Date With Death mini is what came out of it. The wrong – or the right depending on how you look at it – Edward came to the fore. I can hear my muse Jareth laughing at me from between. Spoilers for any of the seven or eight Anita Blake books prior to Obsidian Butterfly and Narcissus in Chains.
Dedicated to whimsicality.
~*~*~
Edward didn’t care about social interactions. They were a necessary requisite for when he was on the job, assuming a persona, but as a personal preference? No. But it hadn’t been Edward the assassin, Edward the hitman whom the preternatural world feared and named ‘Death’, who was asked to perform the most demeaning of social interactions imposed upon man.
No.
Ted Forrester, bounty hunter and legal vampire executioner for the states of New Mexico, Arizona, and Nevada had been set up on a blind date: A blind date which happened to be with a divorced mother of two New Age shopkeeper.
Edward wanted to shoot the smirking police officer for daring to voice the thought. Good ole boy Ted tried to hedge out of it gracefully, but the good natured heckling and taunts of Santa Fe’s finest left no choice for ‘Ted’ to do anything but grumble and acquiesce, making vague allusions to ‘details’ on the ‘hot mama of crystal balls everywhere’.
It annoyed Edward so much he did the unspeakable and in the days leading up to ‘The Date’ he took several jobs almost free of charge for the express purpose of substituting the responsible officer’s face on the form of every vampire, rogue were, and unfortunate other caught in the crossfire. Two rogue were’s, a vampire kiss of thirty or so vampires and assorted human and lycanthrope satellites, later, and he wasn’t feeling quite so irritated.
And if he were in fact to indulge in something so petty as spite, he even took on some of the local Hells Angels who were trying to regain a presence in the territory, a chapter who had been dealing with selling kidnapped girls from across the border to the highest bidder in one of the Southwest’s largest sex slave markets.
Only to test out the newest batch of explosives his weapons supplier had offered, Edward rationalized.
So when Friday night came around, Ted Forrester found himself in one of the newest bar and grill restaurants, dressed in Forrester’s usual attire of jeans, t-shirt, and button up shirt, only a little more dressy than normal. The button up was one of those silvery-black metallic shirts made of little links creating a see-through look that set off his black t-shirt nicely, nothing that wasn’t appropriate for a casual date or a quick stop at a club. Both shirts were tucked into a leather belted pair of black jeans flaring slightly over polished Doc Marten work boots.
Edward knew he looked well groomed, the longer portions of his short cut blond hair gelled in a messy faux hawk that was all the rage among celebrities and up and coming businessmen. His piercing blue eyes and Aryan features had caused many a female head to turn his way, hoping to catch his eye in blatant invitation or admiration, but Edward just ignored them.
He sneered at the necessity of having to put himself – even in the guise of Ted Forrester – on such blatant display in an archaic mating ritual better left in the past.
Having called ahead for the reservations, he had managed to secure a booth in the corner with a solid wall at his back and an unhindered view of the surrounding windows and passerby without having to expose himself. Perfect to make sure no one snuck upon him he didn’t wish to allow.
The host – a youth who’s badge read ‘Brad’ – didn’t not linger longer than the time necessary to seat ‘Ted’ and get his drink preference –water – known.
Edward knew he had to tone himself down, enough of his true self was leaking out and that didn’t bode well for his cover. A few deep breaths and a false warmth and ease seemed to spring from nowhere as Edward settled in to wait for Ted’s date.
He kept himself occupied, slowly sipping his water, as he observed those around him without seeming to. Amusing was the thought of how easy these laughing, crying, jeering people would turn into a faceless mob of shock, horror, and screams if he pulled out the Beretta hidden in his waistband and just dropped a bullet right between someone’s eyes.
That businessman, Edward picked his mark out, blue gaze icy and neutral as he watched a forty something high-rolling businessman with a tan from the can leering at the vapid blond twenty-something in front of him. She had more skin pushed out of her clothes than contained, and ten to one the couple worked together and were married…just not to each other.
Edward’s fingers twitched absently on his glass, assessing the possibilities, and then finally nodded. From this angle he could easily take the two out together, the blond mistress first as the bullet would travel through the back of her skull to connect with the man’s carotid artery. Two for one, an easy kill…and so boring a rookie sniper could drop them from a thousand yards. Edward had long since graduated from that rookie, his kills being more challenging than a simple pop and walk.
Finished with the two now that he had mentally eliminated their cheating existence off of this earth, Edward began to actively eye the passing traffic, paying special attention to the feminine persuasion…which one was Ted’s date? What would a Donna Parnell look like?
Edward and Ted both came to the conclusion of a well-kept lady, possibly early to mid thirties as she had both a teenager (albeit young) and a child not even a decade old. She would be a brunette; with careful highlights woven into the strands, and a shoulder length hairstyle for convenience, Edward mused, swirling the melting ice in his half empty glass. And being a shopkeeper who sold and believed in the New Age paraphernalia she peddled out, she would be quirky and perhaps naïve, a shallow creature who would be so easy to manipulate it would be a mercy to plug a bullet through her before she grated on his nerves with incessant chatter.
And then she walked in. Edward had zeroed in on her long before he knew what he was looking for, who the surrounding patrons were looking at. The host – Brad – was guiding her through the maze of tables and people, and Edward took a rare moment to admire. Yes, even Death could appreciate the attractive things in life.
Rust colored pleather clung to shapely calves, flaring slightly over studded black heeled boots. A hem of lace the color of flesh spilled caught his eye to travel upward, a vest of some sort doing nothing to hide and everything to emphasize the nipped in waist he could easily span with both hands. Her jacket matched her pants in color and material, cropped to the waist and flaring slightly over the backs of her tapered fingers. The tawny column of her throat and chest were exposed to the deep v of her collared vest and jacket, the delicate crochet of lace across her chest like a camisole hit Edward with the force of bullet, the coloring and erratic pattern once again bringing blood to mind, like a plume of blood splattered across that gold touched skin.
Edward found himself interested and aware as on any job when he realized with some surprise she was casing the area as he had, noting the exits, window placements, number of diners, and the steady flow of the staff. At that moment, as Edward was assessing her anew, her dark mocha gaze peered through dark lined eyes and found his gaze. He knew immediately that she knew he knew what she had been doing, and Edward had to shove Ted Forrester to the front else he reveal himself to this unique creature here and now.
She had his undivided attention and that was never beneficial for the one who caught his eye.
Edward found himself mildly shocked for the third time since he had spotted her that Brad was bringing her to him. Edward was pleased to note that she seemed just as bemused at he that she was directed to his table.
Ted’s charm slipping easily, he match her polite, distant smile with one of his own.
“Please, sit,” he stood up and gestured to the booth around them. She gave a nod and that polite smile never wavered, seating herself and tucking a short strand of hair behind one ear as she requested water and coffee from Brad, who seemed to linger for much too long around her for Edward’s state of mind.
As if sensing his imminent danger, Brad scuttled off to pass the drink orders along.
“Good evening, ma’am,” Edward drawled in Ted’s lazy southern drawl, and one of her dark brows winged upward in askance.
“Ma’am, huh? Good evening to you too, Mr. Forrester,” she spoke softly, husky voice holding an accent so similar to the locals but just slightly off Edward couldn’t figure out where from exactly.
“You seem to have me at a disadvantage…ma’am. With all due respect…you do not look like a Donna Parnell to me.” Allowing himself one of Ted’s warm, appreciative glances to rake her in close-up, Edward was disturbed to find himself liking what he saw.
She was tiny, shorter and far more delicate looking than even Anita, and not just height wise. Her dark hair was straight and closer to milk chocolate than dark like Anita’s, and her hair was cut in short, spunky layers whereas Anita’s was long and an untamed mass of curls and snarls, much like her personality. She looked like one of those porcelain Mexican dolls, to be put under glass and protected, whereas no one could ever mistake Anita for anything but tough and practical.
Anita’s skin was the color of alabaster, an aged ivory just one flush darker than the corpses she associated with, where she was golden as if the sun itself had let a piece of itself grow and glow from within. Two women….so similar and yet so different…night and day, two sides of the same coin, a study of contrasts.
And then she smiled. Not the police, nice to meet you stranger smile, but a SMILE and Death felt something stir. Interest, yes. Attraction, most definitely.
A challenge.
Finally.
That smile grew and warmed the ice around her eyes slightly, a sparkle within and the hint of mirth curved those delicate lips slightly.
“No…no I’m not a Donna Parnell. I am actually a stand in for tonight, Donna caught whatever her kids had but she didn’t want to leave a nice, upstanding member of society hanging by himself and offered my services.”
Both paused and as one turned their gazes upon the waitress who had brought water, coffee, and a refill for Ted’s now empty glass.
“I take it you are employed by her then,” Ted drawled his guess again as the flustered waitress hurriedly left them to their menus. This elicited a laugh and a friendly nod as she was caught out.
“Yes, I am. Parker Whitman, assistant manager and consistent project to Santa Fe’s resident new age bookstore owner.”
Parker didn’t offer her hand, merely inclining her head and Ted found himself grinning back even as Edward did another rapid reassessment to the woman on his left. He felt his body curve to mirror hers and mold to the shape of the booth’s curve.
Stature wise, Parker may be short, but if that teasing gaze and sharp humor were anything to go by, he would underestimate her at his peril. The thought of peeling away the layers on this intelligent beauty sent a thrill of adrenaline through his veins as only a Hunt did, and Edward hadn’t been this amused and genuinely interested in another human being since he’d first met his little animator all those years ago.
“Well now, Parker Whitman. Ted Forrester, Bounty hunter, legal vampire execution, and the enviable pity of Santa Fe’s finest.”
Another smile and Parker lifted her water glass in a mock salute.
“Ah…you were roped into this as well, I take it,” she stated rather than guessed, taking a dainty sip of her water.
“I won’t mind if you won’t,” Ted cast the challenge her way, and Edward was dismayed to find he was sliding closer.
Upon realizing this, he checked the various crosses and holy items on his person as her smirking gaze traversed her menu, mentally going over them and not feeling the telltale heat the blessed items made when in the presence of a vampire or thrall. Which meant that his lack of discrete reservation was all his own doing, and Edward did NOT like to think about the possibilities to that revelation.
He could only be grateful that Anita was not here to witness this slip up on his part. He would hate to have to kill her before collecting that favor she owed him for killing his back-up, Harley.
“So far so good,” she remarked, rising to his challenge and meeting his gaze, her chin tilting ever so upward. “Although I reserve the right to eviscerate those who did this to us should the evening go sour.”
“I completely understand,” he toasted her as well, not surprised at the truth that flowed out of his mouth.
Edward could only applaud in admiration. Anita would have already been yelling curses and threats upon him by this point, and they would already be drawn into a standoff over who would pull the trigger first, but Parker was a cool customer. Edward was once again in agreement with Ted.
What would it take to crack that oh so cool, calm, exterior?
A project, that’s what she had said her boss thought of her.
A project indeed.
Perhaps he wouldn’t kill that idiot Officer Simmons after all for setting this up.
.
.
.
Maybe.
~*~*~
TBC…?
Kristin aka KiaraAlexisKlay
Genre: Crossover, AU, Anita Blake Vampire Hunter Series; Roswell television series
Disclaimer: ABVHS belongs with Laurell K Hamilton; Roswell belongs to Melinda Metz and Jason Katims
Rating: Mature – um, hello, Edward the assassin named Death!
Characters: Ted Forrester/Edward; Liz Parker; mentions of Donna and Anita.
A/N: So I didn’t want to start yet another story arc, and I was actually really trying to finish the Twilight mini-series, and I was chanting Edward, Edward, Edward….and this Date With Death mini is what came out of it. The wrong – or the right depending on how you look at it – Edward came to the fore. I can hear my muse Jareth laughing at me from between. Spoilers for any of the seven or eight Anita Blake books prior to Obsidian Butterfly and Narcissus in Chains.
Dedicated to whimsicality.
~*~*~
Edward didn’t care about social interactions. They were a necessary requisite for when he was on the job, assuming a persona, but as a personal preference? No. But it hadn’t been Edward the assassin, Edward the hitman whom the preternatural world feared and named ‘Death’, who was asked to perform the most demeaning of social interactions imposed upon man.
No.
Ted Forrester, bounty hunter and legal vampire executioner for the states of New Mexico, Arizona, and Nevada had been set up on a blind date: A blind date which happened to be with a divorced mother of two New Age shopkeeper.
Edward wanted to shoot the smirking police officer for daring to voice the thought. Good ole boy Ted tried to hedge out of it gracefully, but the good natured heckling and taunts of Santa Fe’s finest left no choice for ‘Ted’ to do anything but grumble and acquiesce, making vague allusions to ‘details’ on the ‘hot mama of crystal balls everywhere’.
It annoyed Edward so much he did the unspeakable and in the days leading up to ‘The Date’ he took several jobs almost free of charge for the express purpose of substituting the responsible officer’s face on the form of every vampire, rogue were, and unfortunate other caught in the crossfire. Two rogue were’s, a vampire kiss of thirty or so vampires and assorted human and lycanthrope satellites, later, and he wasn’t feeling quite so irritated.
And if he were in fact to indulge in something so petty as spite, he even took on some of the local Hells Angels who were trying to regain a presence in the territory, a chapter who had been dealing with selling kidnapped girls from across the border to the highest bidder in one of the Southwest’s largest sex slave markets.
Only to test out the newest batch of explosives his weapons supplier had offered, Edward rationalized.
So when Friday night came around, Ted Forrester found himself in one of the newest bar and grill restaurants, dressed in Forrester’s usual attire of jeans, t-shirt, and button up shirt, only a little more dressy than normal. The button up was one of those silvery-black metallic shirts made of little links creating a see-through look that set off his black t-shirt nicely, nothing that wasn’t appropriate for a casual date or a quick stop at a club. Both shirts were tucked into a leather belted pair of black jeans flaring slightly over polished Doc Marten work boots.
Edward knew he looked well groomed, the longer portions of his short cut blond hair gelled in a messy faux hawk that was all the rage among celebrities and up and coming businessmen. His piercing blue eyes and Aryan features had caused many a female head to turn his way, hoping to catch his eye in blatant invitation or admiration, but Edward just ignored them.
He sneered at the necessity of having to put himself – even in the guise of Ted Forrester – on such blatant display in an archaic mating ritual better left in the past.
Having called ahead for the reservations, he had managed to secure a booth in the corner with a solid wall at his back and an unhindered view of the surrounding windows and passerby without having to expose himself. Perfect to make sure no one snuck upon him he didn’t wish to allow.
The host – a youth who’s badge read ‘Brad’ – didn’t not linger longer than the time necessary to seat ‘Ted’ and get his drink preference –water – known.
Edward knew he had to tone himself down, enough of his true self was leaking out and that didn’t bode well for his cover. A few deep breaths and a false warmth and ease seemed to spring from nowhere as Edward settled in to wait for Ted’s date.
He kept himself occupied, slowly sipping his water, as he observed those around him without seeming to. Amusing was the thought of how easy these laughing, crying, jeering people would turn into a faceless mob of shock, horror, and screams if he pulled out the Beretta hidden in his waistband and just dropped a bullet right between someone’s eyes.
That businessman, Edward picked his mark out, blue gaze icy and neutral as he watched a forty something high-rolling businessman with a tan from the can leering at the vapid blond twenty-something in front of him. She had more skin pushed out of her clothes than contained, and ten to one the couple worked together and were married…just not to each other.
Edward’s fingers twitched absently on his glass, assessing the possibilities, and then finally nodded. From this angle he could easily take the two out together, the blond mistress first as the bullet would travel through the back of her skull to connect with the man’s carotid artery. Two for one, an easy kill…and so boring a rookie sniper could drop them from a thousand yards. Edward had long since graduated from that rookie, his kills being more challenging than a simple pop and walk.
Finished with the two now that he had mentally eliminated their cheating existence off of this earth, Edward began to actively eye the passing traffic, paying special attention to the feminine persuasion…which one was Ted’s date? What would a Donna Parnell look like?
Edward and Ted both came to the conclusion of a well-kept lady, possibly early to mid thirties as she had both a teenager (albeit young) and a child not even a decade old. She would be a brunette; with careful highlights woven into the strands, and a shoulder length hairstyle for convenience, Edward mused, swirling the melting ice in his half empty glass. And being a shopkeeper who sold and believed in the New Age paraphernalia she peddled out, she would be quirky and perhaps naïve, a shallow creature who would be so easy to manipulate it would be a mercy to plug a bullet through her before she grated on his nerves with incessant chatter.
And then she walked in. Edward had zeroed in on her long before he knew what he was looking for, who the surrounding patrons were looking at. The host – Brad – was guiding her through the maze of tables and people, and Edward took a rare moment to admire. Yes, even Death could appreciate the attractive things in life.
Rust colored pleather clung to shapely calves, flaring slightly over studded black heeled boots. A hem of lace the color of flesh spilled caught his eye to travel upward, a vest of some sort doing nothing to hide and everything to emphasize the nipped in waist he could easily span with both hands. Her jacket matched her pants in color and material, cropped to the waist and flaring slightly over the backs of her tapered fingers. The tawny column of her throat and chest were exposed to the deep v of her collared vest and jacket, the delicate crochet of lace across her chest like a camisole hit Edward with the force of bullet, the coloring and erratic pattern once again bringing blood to mind, like a plume of blood splattered across that gold touched skin.
Edward found himself interested and aware as on any job when he realized with some surprise she was casing the area as he had, noting the exits, window placements, number of diners, and the steady flow of the staff. At that moment, as Edward was assessing her anew, her dark mocha gaze peered through dark lined eyes and found his gaze. He knew immediately that she knew he knew what she had been doing, and Edward had to shove Ted Forrester to the front else he reveal himself to this unique creature here and now.
She had his undivided attention and that was never beneficial for the one who caught his eye.
Edward found himself mildly shocked for the third time since he had spotted her that Brad was bringing her to him. Edward was pleased to note that she seemed just as bemused at he that she was directed to his table.
Ted’s charm slipping easily, he match her polite, distant smile with one of his own.
“Please, sit,” he stood up and gestured to the booth around them. She gave a nod and that polite smile never wavered, seating herself and tucking a short strand of hair behind one ear as she requested water and coffee from Brad, who seemed to linger for much too long around her for Edward’s state of mind.
As if sensing his imminent danger, Brad scuttled off to pass the drink orders along.
“Good evening, ma’am,” Edward drawled in Ted’s lazy southern drawl, and one of her dark brows winged upward in askance.
“Ma’am, huh? Good evening to you too, Mr. Forrester,” she spoke softly, husky voice holding an accent so similar to the locals but just slightly off Edward couldn’t figure out where from exactly.
“You seem to have me at a disadvantage…ma’am. With all due respect…you do not look like a Donna Parnell to me.” Allowing himself one of Ted’s warm, appreciative glances to rake her in close-up, Edward was disturbed to find himself liking what he saw.
She was tiny, shorter and far more delicate looking than even Anita, and not just height wise. Her dark hair was straight and closer to milk chocolate than dark like Anita’s, and her hair was cut in short, spunky layers whereas Anita’s was long and an untamed mass of curls and snarls, much like her personality. She looked like one of those porcelain Mexican dolls, to be put under glass and protected, whereas no one could ever mistake Anita for anything but tough and practical.
Anita’s skin was the color of alabaster, an aged ivory just one flush darker than the corpses she associated with, where she was golden as if the sun itself had let a piece of itself grow and glow from within. Two women….so similar and yet so different…night and day, two sides of the same coin, a study of contrasts.
And then she smiled. Not the police, nice to meet you stranger smile, but a SMILE and Death felt something stir. Interest, yes. Attraction, most definitely.
A challenge.
Finally.
That smile grew and warmed the ice around her eyes slightly, a sparkle within and the hint of mirth curved those delicate lips slightly.
“No…no I’m not a Donna Parnell. I am actually a stand in for tonight, Donna caught whatever her kids had but she didn’t want to leave a nice, upstanding member of society hanging by himself and offered my services.”
Both paused and as one turned their gazes upon the waitress who had brought water, coffee, and a refill for Ted’s now empty glass.
“I take it you are employed by her then,” Ted drawled his guess again as the flustered waitress hurriedly left them to their menus. This elicited a laugh and a friendly nod as she was caught out.
“Yes, I am. Parker Whitman, assistant manager and consistent project to Santa Fe’s resident new age bookstore owner.”
Parker didn’t offer her hand, merely inclining her head and Ted found himself grinning back even as Edward did another rapid reassessment to the woman on his left. He felt his body curve to mirror hers and mold to the shape of the booth’s curve.
Stature wise, Parker may be short, but if that teasing gaze and sharp humor were anything to go by, he would underestimate her at his peril. The thought of peeling away the layers on this intelligent beauty sent a thrill of adrenaline through his veins as only a Hunt did, and Edward hadn’t been this amused and genuinely interested in another human being since he’d first met his little animator all those years ago.
“Well now, Parker Whitman. Ted Forrester, Bounty hunter, legal vampire execution, and the enviable pity of Santa Fe’s finest.”
Another smile and Parker lifted her water glass in a mock salute.
“Ah…you were roped into this as well, I take it,” she stated rather than guessed, taking a dainty sip of her water.
“I won’t mind if you won’t,” Ted cast the challenge her way, and Edward was dismayed to find he was sliding closer.
Upon realizing this, he checked the various crosses and holy items on his person as her smirking gaze traversed her menu, mentally going over them and not feeling the telltale heat the blessed items made when in the presence of a vampire or thrall. Which meant that his lack of discrete reservation was all his own doing, and Edward did NOT like to think about the possibilities to that revelation.
He could only be grateful that Anita was not here to witness this slip up on his part. He would hate to have to kill her before collecting that favor she owed him for killing his back-up, Harley.
“So far so good,” she remarked, rising to his challenge and meeting his gaze, her chin tilting ever so upward. “Although I reserve the right to eviscerate those who did this to us should the evening go sour.”
“I completely understand,” he toasted her as well, not surprised at the truth that flowed out of his mouth.
Edward could only applaud in admiration. Anita would have already been yelling curses and threats upon him by this point, and they would already be drawn into a standoff over who would pull the trigger first, but Parker was a cool customer. Edward was once again in agreement with Ted.
What would it take to crack that oh so cool, calm, exterior?
A project, that’s what she had said her boss thought of her.
A project indeed.
Perhaps he wouldn’t kill that idiot Officer Simmons after all for setting this up.
.
.
.
Maybe.
~*~*~
TBC…?
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KiaraAlexisKlay
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Re: I, Liz (Multi XO, MATURE, cc/uc) 5-5-09
Author's Note:
Hey you all just wanted to give you an update.
I have a couple of stories in the mix I will update in about a week hopefully. Things have been very interesting. I have a nephew now, Alexander James who was just born, all 6lbs 12 ounces and 19 inches of him! *me loves my nephew*
Hopefully I will have another of the Twilight stories out, and possibly another in the the Date With Death timeframe.
But this is just to let you all know that I have not forgotten!
~k
Hey you all just wanted to give you an update.
I have a couple of stories in the mix I will update in about a week hopefully. Things have been very interesting. I have a nephew now, Alexander James who was just born, all 6lbs 12 ounces and 19 inches of him! *me loves my nephew*
Hopefully I will have another of the Twilight stories out, and possibly another in the the Date With Death timeframe.
But this is just to let you all know that I have not forgotten!
~k
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