Wyches' Waltz
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Wyches' Waltz
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Robyn
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077; Suite U3A, Gates Undersound Hotel, Downtown SeattleMonique moves through the crowd of people in the lobby with all the grace and skill of the platinum grade pickpocket she is. Most of the people she maneuvers past do not even realize that she is there before she has moved past them. But even her significant innate abilities, reinforced as they are by certain gifts from her employer, are only able to keep the mystery woman in sight until she passes through the door to the street. The maid exits the building mere moments after her target only to find that the woman has somehow managed to disappear into the crowd of pedestrians outside. Disappointed, Monique rationalizes that continued pursuit would be a waste of time and might even be a ruse to draw her from her employer. She swears softly in her native French before moving swiftly back into the building and heading to the private elevator leading to the undersea suites, arriving shortly after Lady Tanya and her guest.
In the suite, Robyn allows herself to relax slightly, then the shakes begin. She settles onto one of the large couches dotting the massive living room and begins to cry. Her tears are silent at first, but by the time Monique enters the suite, she is bawling out loud. She has opened the vault in her mind where she has stuffed everything Calista and she remembers. Her special, mutated brain, allows her to call up any memory of anything she has ever seen, heard, and done, and she turns the Calista memories over and over in her mind. The exploratory moments, the passion, the love, and yes, the time when she had followed her lover to the House in London Below where Melissa Shirai had been torturing her beautiful, gentle, kind Calista. She remembers bargaining with Melissa to take her instead and how easily the sadistic woman agreed. She needed some part of a soul for a ritual of some kind and Robyn’s seemed better suited than Calista’s. The tortures had seemed to last eons, with the witch nailing her hands and feet to a table and carefully flaying her alive before healing her, only to repeat the process.
Once the torture was over, Melissa had left the chamber, allowing Calista to say her goodbyes to Robyn. Instead, Calista had ripped Robyn from the spikes and carried her through an upper floor window, hurting herself dreadfully in the process. They had got to a healer by the name of Pax, who had tried to heal them. Then Calista, dear sweet Cali, had vanished and all attempts to find her had only resulted in failure and grief. Robyn had returned to her existence, thwarting several attempts by Melissa to assassinate her. She picked up the Hell Hound to help detect and fight off the various spirits. Then the attacks stopped and Robyn had dared hope that she had been forgotten or that something really horrible had happened to Melissa.
And now it appears that Melissa has returned………………………
5
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Calista and Foxglove
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077, Crash Pad at 86th and 228th, Redmond“I used to be better before I got my memories locked away.” Calista replied, oddly serene. “My life was one long horror show for over a decade. I used to be able to deal. Now it appears I’ve lost the touch.” She snorted softly through her nose. “No matter. Damage done, and it will come back. I won’t break like this again.”
The banshee stood in a sinuous motion and disappeared into the bathroom without another word. Closing the door, she turned and looked at herself in the mirror. She was a mess. Bloody tracks marred her face, and droplets of blood dotted her arms, legs, and clothing. She looked like she’d murdered someone. In a way, she supposed she had. The face looking out from under lank blonde hair- she’d broken into a flop sweat on top of everything else- and crusty, bloody lashes was no longer a woman she’d been when she awoke in Tel Aviv.
She sighed at her reflection, wondering what she was going to do. She wanted to drop everything and search for Robyn. It was more than a desire, it was a driving, burning need, and to ignore it would drive her slowly mad. At the same time, she didn’t want to abandon her only friend. Calista’s loyalty ran deep, and she owed Fox. More than that, she liked Fox, and they needed this job.
The job.
Huh.
The beginnings of an idea were forming behind those dead-colored eyes, and Calista smiled at her reflection, showing icy white fangs. She shook her head and looked away. Too far ahead of herself for the moment. They needed to get going while the getting was good, or at least not lethal.
Looked like Fox was going to get her Christmas present a few days early after all.
A couple of minutes later, Calista exited the bathroom. Water sparkled on her skin from her shower, and she was disarmingly nude, her bloody clothes still back in the bathroom. Her wet hair had been pulled up in a bun, and she looked like she should be studying for her college entrance exams, she was so young. She nodded at Fox. “Bloody towels and papers in the bathtub, please. Anything from here you need other than the go bags?”
As she talked, she moved over to her own bag, producing cargo pants that were tightly fitted in the hips and backside and loose everywhere else and a black babydoll tee with the Boston Massacre urban brawl team logo stenciled on it in blood spatters. A simple black bra and matching cheekies joined it, and she got dressed in a few economical motions, then began buckling on her shoulder holster.
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Foxglove spent the few minutes that Calista was in the shower to pack up what few things they had laying about, making sure to arrange the on-person items on the couch for ease of access.
“Not that I can think of,” she said in response to Calista’s question, not really even giving a blink to the girl’s nakedness. While she was quite pleasing to look at, Fox had gotten used to the girl’s form and seeming lack of modesty, by now. Not that the lack ever really bothered her, since time in a close-knit, special-ops team tended to rid one of such taboo rather thoroughly.
She grabbed one thing from one of the duffles, then went to round up the bloody paper towels. “The usual?” Fox asked, brandishing the things so Calista knew to what she was referring before heading into the bathroom to put them with the rest of the bloody clothing. As she waited for an answer, she scanned the small room for any loose hairs that might have escaped their usual, daily sweep.
Foxglove gathered all that she could find and placed them in the tub with the rest of the items. She then pulled the dingy shower curtain from its rings, and added that as well. Having gotten the affirmative, the elf popped the top on the canister she’d grabbed from the bag, pulled out a cheap, not-bought-for-cigarettes, zippo-style lighter from a pocket along her pant leg, and splashed the liquid from the canister onto the pile.
When she lit the lighter, Foxglove felt like she was missing a step. She’d watched that damn tridshow so many times that she really felt like she should be adding salt as well.
She gave a shrug, and tossed in the lighter to watch the pile of DNA-laced items burst into flames.
#15-7
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Alessandra
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077; Small Park outside the Gates Undersound Hotel, Downtown SeattleThe spirit sent to observe the penthouse and upper floors of the hotel takes a little time to report back. >>Mistress, those you seek are not among the people on the upper floors of this building and there is certainly no Hell Hound there, although astral security is high. I have noticed, however, that the astral security seems to be even greater where the hotel extends below the ground level. Perhaps it is there that you should seek?<<
Robyn
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077; Suite U3A, Gates Undersound Hotel, Downtown SeattleRobyn begins to regain her composure and Tanya motions to Monique with her head. The maid nods and quickly brings Robyn a large snifter of brandy. The Keeb sniffs at the offered drink and looks up at Tanya with a slight smile. “You Brits and your brandy. Have you any vodka by any chance?”
Lady Marisart takes the snifter from Robyn with a laugh of her own. “You Russians and your vodka. I should have remembered. Still, this should not go to waste. I will join you in a toast.” The pair share a toast after Monique brings Robyn a bottle of vodka and a glass. Tanya savors a sip of the brandy as Robyn tosses back a healthy slug of vodka then gives her friend a questioning look. “How can I help?”
Robyn tosses back another shot of her vodka then visibly relaxes. “Some months ago I found the most intriguing woman at a party one of my friends was hosting. She was unlike anyone I had met before and I was attracted to her………………….I mean really attracted to her. We talked and she listened to me play the cello. The short story is that we fell in love, very much in love. But she was not her own person, but some sort of slave or servant to a very bad woman named Melissa Shirai, a person of importance in London Below. One day, this person called Calista away and I could tell that it was not for a good reason. I managed to follow her, after all, I am a ward of one of the important Houses of Below and I know my way around the place. I found Melissa about to torture Cali for some sort of magical ritual and I could not bear the thought of such harm coming to my love. In retrospect, what I did was probably not wise, but I would do it a million times over just to see her smile at me again. I offered to trade places with Calista and the witch agreed to my bargain. I was staked to a large table and tortured for a very long time. In the end, Melissa got what she wanted and left me to die on her table, but Calista pulled me from the stakes and jumped out a window with me in her arms. The fall injured her severely, but she managed to get us to a healer.”
Robyn pauses to wipe some new tears from her eyes then continues, holding up her palms for Tanya to see. “The healer was very skilled but was not able to fix everything. You can still see the scars of the stakes that were driven through my hands, as well as those in my ankles. The hands do not bother me any more, but I still have trouble with a slight limp in my right leg on occasion.”
6
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Alessandra
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077; Small Park outside the Gates Undersound Hotel, Downtown SeattleHer spirit reported back, telling her she had been looking in the wrong place. She nodded and sent the invisible homunculus back on its way. Water was no obstruction, and it was possible that security would actually be lower down there, what with less points of entry and egress. The individual suites, of course, would be nightmarish hard to break into, but she didn’t need to be inside, only to see and hear, and possibly be seen and heard. It was with some surprise that Alessandra realized she wanted to be found out. She wanted to see this Robyn for herself, not not just in passing.
How strange the mortals were, with their fascinations and their romances and their desperate desire for unity.
How strange it would be to understand it.
Calista and Foxglove
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077, Crash Pad at 86th and 228th, RedmondCalista came in just as the flames began to spread to the piled clothing and detritus in the tub, and pitched in two squares of carpet she’d cut from the floor, both filthy and bloody. She watched the whole mass burn for a second, then glanced at Fox and asked, “Is this the part where we fight, and you tell me not to do anything stupid, and I bitch and moan about my life and my decisions, or does that need to wait for a cooler of beer at the side of the road?”
She grinned to show it was a joke, then pulled out her commlink. She dialed, calling Christine. The other woman answered, and Calista’s voice was apologetic. “Hey Christine. Sorry to call you at this hour, but it looks like we’re moving up a a couple days. Had to burn a safehouse so we’re on the move. Is Digitalis,” one corner of Calista’s mouth quirked up at the name she’d chosen for Fox’s gift, “ready?”
Christine answered in the affirmative. “Oh yeah, everything is place. The last chest arrived this morning and I think I’ve got that hydraulic problem solved. Doss is all good to go, too. I’m actually here now.”
“Excellent.” Calista replied. “And the Draco?” This last with a sidelong look at Fox, and the quirk turned into a smirk.
“Gunmetal and gold, just like you asked.” Christine replied cheerfully. “She’s next to mine, with pretty purple silk sheets on that sweet body.”
Calista chuckled. “Trust you to make it sound like fucking.” She said fondly. “Thanks babe. We’ll be there soon. Stay or go, your call. I’m a mess tonight though, so it ain’t gonna be real social.”
Christine laughed in return, a rich, throaty sound like the purr of a well-tuned motor. “I gotcha, hon. No, me and mine will be gone in a few. Got some things to do tonight. I’ll come by tomorrow and get myself set up. ‘Night, hon.”
Calista hung up and turned to Fox, her smile dropping away, but her expression didn’t turn back into her namesake. She was too irrepressible, and her coping mechanisms had come back with the rest of her memory. Oh, the breakdown was coming, she knew, but it wouldn’t be now, and her mind had locked it away for use later, when the heat was off. For now, she was almost back to normal.
“Sorry about that. I’ve got a place for us to go.” She flipped Fox the directions via ARO. “Follow me, if possible. I want to see your face when you get there. This is…part of your christmas gift, and I swear to god, if you tell me I shouldn’t have, I will punch you. It will hurt. You taught me how, remember?”
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Fox actually laughed, once again grateful for Calista’s shared enjoyment in her old-trid and flatvid fascination. “I think it happens at the hotel. Then one of us gets all pissy and walks out.” She quipped back, returning the smile.
Which quickly disappeared into confusion as Calista began talking to someone Fox hadn’t heard of, before, about something she’d not heard anything about. Then the call ended, and she blinked in surprise to know that the Banshee had already fixed a place for them to run to.
And a present….
….Or was the place the present?
What the hell had she done, now?
Foxglove’s expression softened into one of bemusement, once more, and she shook her head. “Yes, I know. I still haven’t gotten used to someone giving me things, but I think I’ve at least gotten that last bit handled.”
She gave one last look at the burning pile, noting that the fire was doing a fine job at destroying anything potentially useful, and tossed her head toward the door in a “let’s go” fashion. Ignoring the blaring smoke alarm that had been triggered by the blaze, the two gathered their things and headed out to their cars, Foxglove bringing the directions up onto the HUD of her cybereyes to overlay the road in front of her before opening the door to her Phoenix. “So…” She began, raising her voice enough to cover the distance to where Calista was, “what did you do?” She didn’t expect a detailed response, since the Banshee obviously wanted to keep this present a surprise, but the tone was eerily similar to the one she’d used in the early days of their friendship, back when they were still in that benighted desert.
#16-8
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Robyn
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077; Suite U3A, Gates Undersound Hotel, Downtown SeattleAfter a third shot of vodka, Robyn gives Tanya a shaky grin. “Of course, that is just the highlights but I am not sure that I am ready to talk about the details yet. It was not long after I was healed that Calista vanished. I searched all over Below for her, following lead after lead, but everything just led to dead end after dead end. I do not think that she went back to Melissa or I would have heard the cackles of glee from that witch, but she may have thought that her presence at my side was risking my life. I wish I could have let her know that I would have endured any risk, but I think that she did not want me to be put in that position again.”
Robyn rises from the couch and walks over to the huge, floor to ceiling windows that looked out at the ocean beyond. “You know, I have an old ‘link in a drawer at my house that is set on the frequency she and I used, and it will only take calls for that number and route it to me, wherever I am. To date, it has never rang, but I remain hopeful.”
Tanya moves over to stand near Robyn. “Do you need to leave. I can make some excuse………………”
Robyn interrupts her friend with a wave of her hand. “No, I refuse to run from her. I did not do it before and I will not do it now. Besides, it strikes me that I may not be able to run far enough. Besides, the concert and gala support a number of good charitable causes and I cannot let you down like that. I will stay. Besides, don’t you have some guests coming over soon for a late dinner?”
Tanya shakes her head and smiles. “Well, I suppose that security here is about as good as it gets and we can do our best for the concert and ball. And, yes, a few special guests will be arriving within the hour to spend time with you.”
Robyn nods absently at the watery vista in front of her. “Then I need to take a shower and dress.” She turns to face her friend. “Thank you for your kindness, Tanya.” With that, she leaves the living room for the guest bedroom provided to her, the large Hell Hound following her.
7
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Calista and Foxglove
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077, Crash Pad at 86th and 228th, Redmond/Digitalis Motors at 214th and 109th, Puyallup“I bought you something!” Calista replied cheerfully. “Actually, I bought you a lot of somethings, but they all sort of combine into one whole.” Then she grinned at Foxglove. “And I made a friend! You’ll see, it’ll be fiiiiiine.” She slid into the Mitsubishi with a wink and fired up the low-slung supercar, listening to the engine roar before dying back to a menacing purr. She gave it a full sixty seconds, making sure Foxglove was good to go before pulling out of the crap motel’s cracked parking lot, her and Fox’s cars as out of place as peacocks amongst crows.
The drive didn’t take too long. Calista focused on the upcoming revelation with a single-mindedness unrivalled in her recent memory. Right now, to think was to break down, and to break down was to put her friendship and her life at risk. As a result, she drove fast and precise, and with her engine and the light traffic, what was normally an hour’s commute only took twenty minutes or so.
Calista hadn’t seen the place since she’d paid a year’s lease and placed six dozen purchase orders three weeks ago, instead leaving it in Christine’s capable hands. The dark haired mechanic was probably going to end up as the front woman most days, and Calista had paid her a hefty fee just to set everything up, and she’d been worth every nuyen. She’d left the lights off and a note on the door, attached to a small envelope. The note just said run me in messy scrawl, and the envelope held a small fob that was essentially a truncated commlink.
Calista took it, turned, and waited for Foxglove to park next to her. The area was dark, with the street lights far apart and the smog reflecting the city light was particularly thick and gloomy, lending a pale greenish glow to everything. Puyallup didn’t look like much, and the ash smell was omnipresent here.
Calista grinned as Fox got out of her car. Then, striking a pose, she tapped the tiny screen for the building’s master control unit, and lit up Fox’s Christmas present.
The big building suddenly blazed, exterior floods coming on to illuminate a building the size of a small warehouse and six meters high. Four big, reinforced garage doors gleamed in the white light, and the neon sign above the door burst to life, letters a meter high spelling out “Digitalis Motors” and underneath, in smaller lettering, “Customs, imports, and racing.” The font was the old Cross Applied Technologies corporate script, and the glowing letters were a deep purple, with holographic peony flames outlining them. Calista stood in front of a ballistic glass door with a heavy-duty lock and keypad mechanism.
The garage doors rolled back a moment later, and Calista’s grin threatened to split her face as they revealed a mechanics facility, a garage with the best of everything. Lifts, brand-new rollaway tool chests, mechanized hoists, and all the hundreds and hundreds of tools and mechanical assistances needed to work on anything with wheels. To one side was a cubicle set up, almost like a coffin hotel but with each cubicle half again as large and much more comfortable, and the sealed hatch beside it led down to where Calista knew there was an armory, a small library and magical workspace, a real bedroom with some basic medical equipment, and a bioware/cyberware combined shop.
And in the middle of the garage, all alone, was a car, covered by a purple silk cloth.
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Robyn
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077; Suite U3A, Gates Undersound Hotel, Downtown SeattleThe hot shower is indeed relaxing and Robyn loves every second she is under the water. Emerging, she finds large, fluffy towels and dries herself off before walking back into the large bedroom she is using, where she finds that Monique has already laid out clothes for her to wear. Robyn runs a hand down the fabric of her favorite Steampunk frock, amazed that the maid had picked out just the outfit that would help her mood the most.
Dressed, Robyn moves out into the living room to find that hotel staff are rearranging the furniture to provide for an informal buffet and several cozy conversation areas. Tanya is already in the living room, but she is leaving the supervision of the workers to Monique, who seems more than equal to the task. She looks over as Robyn comes into the room and goes to her guest. The British noblewoman is impeccably dressed in an informal evening gown and her smile is genuine as she takes Robyn’s hands in hers and guides her to look out the windows. “I wish that you could see all of this. I know that I never tire of the changing scene just beyond my windows. Are you getting the sensory input, at least?”
Robyn smiles. “I am used to not seeing such beauty, and I am getting the input provided by the hotel sensors, thank you.”
Shortly after, the guests begin to arrive. Tanya has invited six of her closest associates and their plus ones to this special meet and greet with Robyn and the small party begins with introductions. Robyn stands out in her choice of dress, but the Steampunk design elicits very few disparaging remarks, although she does get a number of odd looks. Soft cello music plays in the background and the mixer proves to be a success, especially as it serves a secondary purpose in distracting Robyn from thoughts of Melissa Shirai.
8
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Calista and Foxglove
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077, Crash Pad at 86th and 228th, Redmond/Digitalis Motors at 214th and 109th, PuyallupFoxglove shook her head and slipped into her seat, closing the door and kicking the engine into it’s bass roar. ” ‘It’ll be fine,’ she says,” she mumbled to herself, unconvinced.
She followed the path laid out for her on the overlay, watching Calista’s Mitsu speed past her. The girl seemed so excited about this gift, which made Foxglove uncomfortable. She got the feeling she would have to do her best to hold up her statement about having a handle on telling her friend ‘she shouldn’t have.’
It didn’t take long for her to arrive at the destination, and as she pulled up next to Calista’s car her confusion grew two-fold. What in the dark hells were they doing in this part of town?
The gillette blinked away the lingering map projection, then got out of her car. “Cal, what are we–“ Her words were suddenly cut off as the grinning vampire turned on the lights, the sudden change causing Fox to wince with the surprise and brightness. Then her vision adjusted, and her eyes slowly widened as her jaw slowly dropped as she took it all in.
A garage.
Calista had bought her…a garage.
A nice garage. With the coloring and naming all themed to her.
And a car? All of this and a car?
For the first time in a very, very long time, Foxglove felt a lump rise in her throat and a prickle begin at the corners of her eyes. She shut her gaping mouth, swallowed down the lump, and blinked away the pins, only to give Calista a look. It was a look of “what the hell did you do?”, a look that somehow managed to combine wonder, mild fear, warning, and gratitude all in one, “Cal…”
#17-8
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Alessandra
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077; Small Park outside the Gates Undersound Hotel, Downtown SeattleALessandra’s watcher, once it knew where to look, found Robyn easily enough, but it couldn’t pass through the wards on the window glass. The wards were transparent, of course, merely barriers to passage rather than perception. The Gates entertained all sorts, and it wouldn’t do to wall off the perceptions of some of its more exotic guests. No matter, watching and listening were what Alessandra wanted anyway.
Standing up from the park bench, Alessandra made her way back to her car, a Knight-Ares Charger with polarizing glass. She slid into the back seat, laying down, and locked the doors and engaged the security. A whispered command to one of her bound spirits to watch over her, and she was ready. Alessandra put her head down and closed her eyes.
Then she stepped out of her body.
Free on the astral plane, Alessandra looked about, getting her bearings. Even after millennia, the sight of a human city on the astral amazed her, and she took a long moment to just revel in the impressions left on the manasphere by years of locals. Then she turned and looked to the Gates, which glowed in the Astral like its walls were on fire, and a dozen bound spirits patrolled the grounds. She gave the astral equivalent of a whistle. That was a hell of a lot of security. She could break it, of course, but it would take time and effort and she’d probably get hurt, which impressed Alessandra.
But there was no need for that.
Flitting along the path laid by her watcher spirit, Alessandra crossed the intervening space in a blur of thought, before heaving to outside one of the undersea windows, looking upon a lavish suite. She only had a moment to appreciate it though, behind its walls of etched-glass wards, fully visible in astral space, because even as the image was resolving to her sight, she heard the music.
Now she understood why Calista loved her. To be able to create such beautiful music, for it to light up the astral and the auras of those who heard it even after everything she had been through was a gift so profound that Alessandra could scarcely comprehend it, and she had hundreds of years dealing with miracles of life and magic.
Alone, silent and invisible except in astral space, and even though only visible to a keen eye, Alessandra watched and listened.
Calista and Foxglove
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077, Digitalis Motors at 214th and 109th, PuyallupCalista giggled at the look on her face, but the smile turned to concern as Fox’s eyes grew bright and wet. “Oh no.” She said quietly. “I’ve done something wrong, haven’t I?” She stepped close to Foxglove, put a hand on her shoulder. “This is just…I don’t know. You’ve only got the one hobby, you went on the run with me.” She turned toward the garage and gestured at it with one hand. “I wanted to give you something. Sure, the car is something, and its really something, but its just window dressing.” She sighed. “You’re my only friend, Fox. And you never settle down. I wanted you to have…”
Calista stepped back, back toward the garage. “I wanted you to have a home.”
She walked over to the covered car, leaned on it, turned back toward Foxglove. “Its got all the comforts. There’s an armory downstairs, and a library, and a real bedroom and a nice bathroom and even a small cyberware shop. And then, of course, there’s up here.” She spoke quickly now, unsure. Had she gone around the bend? Scared Foxglove off? Was this a six figure mistake? Christ, was someone else going to walk away from her life because of the…the bad crazy?
“It pays for itself and I found someone to manage the business side and its really secure and no one knows we have it and its under other names and we needed a base of operations and its out of the way and I thought maybe the girls from KillAssist could bring their motors here and we could build something and-” She stopped suddenly, took a deep breath, let it out. Then she shook her head slowly. “Sorry, I-” a snort. “Sorry.” Then she stepped away from the car, leaned over, and jerked the purple silk back in a rush of cloth, revealing the gunmetal-grey and gold 2064 1/2 Mustang.
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Foxglove followed the Banshee, her steps slow, uncertain, over to the car under the sheet. And then it was pulled back to reveal the gorgeous vehicle.
The Nocturna swallowed again as she felt the tears try to return. She clamped down on it, angry at herself for letting her emotions get the best of her, for having emotions strong enough to cause this.
She stepped forward swiftly, closing the distance between her and Calista. Her hand shot forward in a flash, balling in the vampire’s shirt, and pulling the girl toward her…into a hug.
Foxglove clung to her friend and trembled and the tears finally fell, unable to be held back any longer. It was otherwise silent, but her arms didn’t move from around the girl, and the trembling likewise wouldn’t stop.
No, Calista. You didn’t do anything wrong, she wanted to say, but no words would come out of her tightened throat.
Quite the opposite. She just hoped her actions could convey it well enough.#18-9
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Calista froze as Fox darted forward, unsure if she was about to get stabbed and not wanting to set Foxglove off. Getting stabbed would hurt, but it would be damned embarrassing if she reacted wrong and the tutoring Calista had been giving Foxglove about monsters was used to kill her.
But Calista remained unstabbed, albeit shocked, as Foxglove pulled her into a hug, and then started shaking. Slowly, very slowly and gently, Calista wrapped her arms around the taller woman, her chin only barely on level with Fox’s shoulder, even in heels. A few seconds later there was a wetness on her cheek, and Cali realized Fox was crying. Unsure, Calista tentatively stroked Fox’s back, and after a few passes she whispered, “Hey…hey, its going to be okay, relaaaax…”
She patted Fox’s back. What the hell? This wasn’t as shocking as Robyn appearing in Seattle, but it was just as unexpected, and this morning she would have bet more on Robyn appearing than Fox having a breakdown.
That thought sent her spiraling down again, and with Fox clinging to her, crying herself, Calista couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, and she started crying into Foxglove’s shoulder in turn.
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Robyn
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077; Suite U3A, Gates Undersound Hotel, Downtown SeattleThe small dinner party was going so well, too, then someone recognized that the music in the background was not just cello music, but it was from a collection of works by Robyn. First one person, then another asked if the cellist would play something for them and in the end she acquiesced. She went to her room to get her cello while Tanya and some of the male guests rearranged the living room furniture so that everyone could sit comfortably during the impromptu performance.
Robyn returned to the living room, cello in hand, and took a seat on a dining room chairs that was brought out for her. A hush fell over the room as she put bow to strings and began playing. Her expertise cannot be denied and she pours her heart into the playing, bringing an appreciation for the music even to those who had not been sure that the cello was suitable for solo work. As she finished the set she had determined was enough for the small venue, she felt inspired to add one. Carefully putting her bow down, Robyn raised her head. “Thank you for your kindness. Several months ago, I composed a work that means something very special to me, so special and personal that I have never really played it to anyone before. I would like to show my appreciation for your kindness to me and play it for you for the first time. It is titled, simply, Calista.”
With that, she bends to the cello and brings the bow across the strings. Some of the notes are soft and intimate while others are bold and powerful. The music rises to a crescendo that seems to mark the end but then continues for a bit longer in a much softer vein. By the time Robyn draws the bow a final time, tears are running down her cheeks and she knows that this could be a really good work.
9
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After a moment, the trembling and crying stopped. It was then that she realized Calista was crying again, too. Her position shifted, their roles reversing as Foxglove became the one comforting. She’d never really been great at the whole thing, but Calista seemed just fine hanging on to her and crying into her shoulder, and now that her usual emotional calm had returned she was perfectly fine staying there as long as the Banshee needed.
When the sobbing finally subsided and Calista’s grip slackened, Foxglove pulled away to arm’s length, her hands on the girl’s shoulders. She made sure to catch the vampire’s gaze with her own and willed her expression into one as earnest as she could muster. “Thank you, Calista. I love it.”
Her hands moved away, lowering back to her sides, and she looked around. “So. How about that ten-nuyen tour?”
#19-9
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Calista and Foxglove
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077, Digitalis Motors at 214th and 109th, PuyallupCalista smiled and shook her head. “Please, Fox, don’t do that. You look like you’re trying to take a shit.” She nodded at the car. “I know you, hon. You’re solitary.” She didn’t add, ‘and you just had a breakdown’ but the implication was clear. “Why don’t you take your new wheels for a spin, get your head on straight. You won’t be able to sleep here until you’ve seen the neighborhood anyway. Take your gun, drive your car, give me half an hour to clean up and put my face back on.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed Foxglove’s cheek. “You’ve been sweet, but lets not strain your emotional range tonight.”
Calista withdrew and nodded at the car. “Go, I’ll be okay. Really.” She smiled kindly. “You’ve been amazing, but I know how trying this has to be for you. The worst is past.” She stepped to the side and opened the door of the Mustang Draco. “Oh captain my captain, your chariot awaits!” She said in a singsong voice.
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Five minutes later Calista was in the bathroom, nude, staring into the mirror at her own drawn, pale face. The damage and the blood were gone, and she just looked tired. Tired and young and lost. She hadn’t lied, the worst was past, but that left a lot of ugly ground to cover. She was in for a rough night, she feared. Her memories were back in place, but it was like someone blind had dropped a vase and glued the pieces back together by feel. Things were out of place, pieces didn’t fit together quite right. It was all there, but not exactly in order, not exactly right. Could she go back? Could she draw Robyn back into her life? She had left for a reason, hadn’t she? And the last time they’d been together, Robyn had been tortured, nearly killed. Could she face that again? Was the face in the mirror, the young, haunted vampire worth the risk?
Gods, she wished she could see Robyn.
Alessandra
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077; Suite U3A, Gates Undersound Hotel, Downtown SeattleAs soon as Robyn reached for her bow, Alessandra knew what it was for, who it was for. And she knew that, no matter how much it might hurt in the short term, that Calista had to see it. She’d looked in a for a few seconds earlier in the night, and she knew what was happening to Calista. She knew how much she hurt. Alessandra wasn’t mortal, wasn’t normal, but she wasn’t stupid. Calista may seem a mayfly to her, and her concerns might be petty to the immortals, but that made them no less passionate for their brevity.
For once in her life, Alessandra was going to do something nice.
Alessandra searched for Calista, finding her standing in a bathroom in Puyallup. A garage. Of course. She almost laughed. What a singularly appropriate gift.
Alessandra marshaled her will and pulled a working together. It was a minor working, but it was reaching kilometers, and she was doing it without ritual props, bridging two locations through the astral, with her perception as the conduit. Alessandra took a deep breath and gestured imperiously, letting all her considerable power flow into this simple, stupid little working.
Calista and Foxglove
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077, Digitalis Motors at 214th and 109th, PuyallupThe mirror was gone.
What the frag is this?! Calista thought as the reflection vanished into a pane of smooth silver.
Then colors began to form, and Calista was across the bathroom in a flash, her hands spread and fangs out, power flickering between her fingers as she prepared for whatever new hell had beset her now.
But nothing came through the mirror. No monsters, no mages, no cold, mocking laughter and taunts in an icy british accent.
Calista frowned and took a step closer. Now there was sound. Voices, laughter. She took another step, then gasped. Her mirror had become a window, a window to somewhere that was very much not the next room. She scanned the image. It was a living room, a nice living room, plush chairs, side tables, well-dressed guests. It was a home or a suite or something. The voices were in English, mostly, though she heard Russian and French. It was a party. She heard clinking, footsteps, a smatter of applause.
Then she heard her name.
Calista stared, horrified beyond words at being so close and yet too far away and overjoyed just to hear that voice again. She placed a hand on the mirror, heard the song. She heard herself in it, and Robyn, and the emotional notes of the story she shared with the blind elven musician.
With her Songbird.
Calista began to cry again, but they were different tears, the tears of someone who was just overwhelmed, when there was just too much for a single soul to hold, but she held her ground, and while she sobbed, she sobbed silently, with her eyes wide open so as not to miss a note.
Alessandra
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077; Suite U3A, Gates Undersound Hotel, Downtown SeattleOn the far side of the window, under the water, a handprint formed on the glass. For the briefest of moments, Calista was actually there, just on the other side of the window, staring in at everything she’d lost.
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Robyn
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077; Suite U3A, Gates Undersound Hotel, Downtown SeattleAs the music fades away, the expressions on the faces of the small audience run the gamut from mild appreciation to wonder and amazement. Robyn is lost in her own thoughts and emotions until a soft snort from the Hell Hound alerts her that she is being watched. Turning her head, she sees that the massive hound is standing near one of the panes of glass that keep the water from the room, his attentions seemingly focused on one area. Robyn rises and walks a bit unsteadily to the window, ignoring the words of the guests in the room. Tanya steps in behind her and asks her companions to give Robyn some space.
Robyn approaches the window in anger. How dare Melissa come here now! That emotion is replaced with reason as Robyn realizes that her hated enemy would not actually be in the water beyond the glass. Not because she was not capable of such sorcery, but because she uses spirits and mortal agents to do her work outside of Below. Then she somehow senses the bare form of a hand print on the window and she gasps. Robyn accepts that some sort of magic is involved because it should be impossible for her to sense such a thing, but she KNOWS that print. She has felt it on her bare skin, kissed it many times in love and felt it press her own hands to a bed in passion. She whispers a name to the window and places her lips against the warded glass.
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Calista and Foxglove
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077, Digitalis Motors at 214th and 109th, PuyallupFox gave a huff of a chuckle at Calista’s words. All things considered, the two of them really hadn’t known each other for very long, but with all the time spent together during the trip, the side jobs, and the run where they helped KillAssist break from their gilded cage, they’d gotten to know each other quite well. The Banshee was right, of course, and Fox knew to leave the girl alone when she needed to be.
“You’re right. Way too mushy. Go,” she added, flicking her head toward the inner-most area of the new garage, “I’ll be back.” She gave her friend a firm pat on her shoulder, apparently not realizing she’d inadvertently quoted another old flatvid or how fitting it was, considering all the chrome she sported.
She waited until Calista was just about out of sight before turning to fully admire the beauty of the new car. The elf made a slow circuit around it, gently running her fingers over the lines and curves with the lightest of smiles on her face. Foxglove opened the door when her path brought her back to the driver’s side, sat down, closed the door, and took in a deep breath through her nose. She let the scent wash over her; that smell of new plastic and synthleather, of oil and exhaust, and that very particular smell that the fabric of new seats always has. It was wonderful.
Fox then reached out to grip the steering wheel, wringing it with her hands enough to make the synthleather wheel cover squeak before checking everything else over, learning where everything was. Once that was done, she was ready to start her up.
It was only then that she realized she didn’t have the keys.
Foxglove paused, wondering if Calista had simply forgotten about them in that horrible mess of a state the two of them had been in just moments before. Then a thought came to her: old trids. A hand reached up to the sun-visor that was folded against the roof of the car, pulled it down, and caught the falling keys with her other hand.
Of course.
She made quick work of finding the right one, placed it into the ignition, and sparked the beast to life. The sound was heaven, and she revved the engine a few times, just to hear her sing, before putting her into gear and taking off down the street.
#20-10
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Calista
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077, Digitalis Motors at 214th and 109th, PuyallupCalista watched Robyn come closer, and her cries died away. Robyn pressed against the glass, and her tears stilled. There was only the cold under her hand, glass and water in equal measure, and the face on the other side of the glass. With a shaking hand, she traced Robyn’s face in the mirror-portal.
Robyn whispered her name, and Calista shivered at the sound, her skin prickling, stomach dropping and heart soaring all in equal measure. Idly, she wondered if she was losing her mind, if she was still back in the doss in Redmond and her sanity was just broken, showing her only what she wanted to see. She decided, then and there, that if she was going crazy, then she was just going to embrace it. Insane, with her friend and her love, would that be such an unpleasant fiction in which to die? Then Robyn pressed her lips to the glass, and Calista’s fingertip traced the print.
The fog of her breath was on this side of the glass.
Calista shivered, shuddered, gasped. Then, moving gingerly as if afraid she would shatter, she pressed her lips to the glass.
It was warm.
Calista closed her eyes. She couldn’t feel the softness, the life in the kiss, but she could feel something, and after two years of silence, after the quiet and the loneliness and the fear, it was enough. She breathed into the mirror, into the kiss, and for the barest of instants, she could feel the old connection, the spell she’d laid down to bridge her mind to Robyn’s. It scratched at the surface of her mind, too weak to penetrate the barrier, but this close she could feel it, trying to rekindle the old connection.
Then it was gone, the mirror once again just a mirror, and Calista wanted to scream.
With a shouted curse, Calista drove her fist into the wall in a fit of frustration. Her blood surged, responding to her anger and her small hand sank ten centimeters into the wall underneath the hand-towel rack. She drew her fist back again, seeing red, and then saw herself in the mirror, her eyes glowing with her power, her face twisted into a look of animal rage. It shook her, and she stopped with her hand pulled back as she reasserted her control.
Lowering her hand, Calista took a deep breath. She shook in place, but as the frustration passed, her brain came back to life. She started drawing connections. Robyn, the job, the mark, this place. She wasn’t certain what had bridged her to Robyn, but that was a problem for another time.
She would do this. An idea began to form, and frustration gave way to anticipation, then even glee. She smiled slowly at her reflection. She would make this work. She would do this job, keep her friend, build a home. She would get her love back, get her life back. She was going to win this one. Too many failures, too many compromises has brought her here. For once in her goddamn life, she wasn’t going to accept anything less than getting it all. And it was going to happen at that concert, and the gala that came after.
Throwing her head back and laughing, Calista turned and headed for the shower.
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Robyn
Late Evening, Tuesday, December 21, 2077; Suite U3A, Gates Undersound Hotel, Downtown SeattleWith one hand and her lips pressed against the glass, Robyn can feel the warmth of the kiss and her heart springs open. Her mind tells her that this is some trick of Melissa’s to torture her, but, if so, the witch has miscalculated wildly. This only serves to reinforce her love of the missing Calista and gives her hope. She will take this sort of hope over despair any day.
And then, as if Melissa has realized her mistake, the illusion fades. The warmth, the touch, the kiss, but not the hope, are gone, replaced by the feel of cool glass. Robyn almost collapses and would have if not for the presence of the Hell Hound at her side. The comforting feel of the massive beast allows her to regain her composure enough to turn and face the small dinner group. “I am very sorry for that. I am afraid that last piece brought out more personal emotion than I had been ready for.”
Tanya leads the way in reassuring Robyn that it was very understandable then goes even further by suggesting that it is quite late and her guest would need some rest before going to rehearsals the following day. The dozen guests all nod acceptance, although some show more compassion that the others. Soon it was just Tanya and Robyn in the room, Monique having gone to turn down the guest bed. Moving closer to Robyn, Tanya plays her role of friend and listener to perfection and Robyn smiles weakly. “She was here. For a few moments it felt like she was just on the other side of the glass. Watching and waiting.” She shakes her head. “I know it sounds crazy, but I was so sure. It could have been Melissa taunting me, but it could have been that Calista put together enough magic to do it. I have never accepted that she is dead because I would know. She is too much a part of my heart that I would not feel her death. So, maybe. Anyway, thank you for the party and I hope that I did not ruin it for you.”
Tanya shakes her head. “Oh, do not think that. It was about time to end it, anyway, and you do need to get some rest.”
Robyn nods and she heads off to the guest bedroom with her hound. Monique is there to assist her in getting undressed or she may have just fallen onto the bed to sleep. In bed, she slides over to be near one edge and drapes an arm down and wraps her hand in the comforting fur of her Hell Hound companion and falls asleep.
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