User talk:QuothTheRaven101

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“Quinn?”

The long-haired girl on the hotel bed was sleeping, curled up the way cats do, her nose buried in her knees. At first she shifted slightly. But when Garnet shook her shoulder again, and repeated her name, Quinn lifted her head and looked at her friend.

“What?”

Garnet stood up. She looked like her namesake, all gold and shiny and done up. “It’s nighttime,” she sang loudly, and rather off-key. "Nighttime is the right time, to rock the night away!"

Adele, by the door, sighed and crossed her arms. She didn’t exactly have a lot of patience for Garnet’s silly routines.

“It is our time,” sang Garnet “to get picked up!” She danced a little jig over to the desk on the other side of the room and picked up the shopping bag there, reached into it, and threw a silky swath of material at Quinn.

Quinn pulled herself up into a sitting position, glancing at Adele, and giving herself over to a disdainful expression every bit and contemptuous as her friend’s. The Q and A, as Garnet called them, were an unlikely pair. Quinn, as innocent and delicate as a butterfly, looked up to Adele, who was, well, not butterfly-ish unless it was a big black butterfly that preyed on dogs, like a god.

Garnet danced around the room like a sprite. She had long blonde hair, perfectly straight, and a thin albeit curvy figure. As it was, her hair was brushed and combed within an inch of its life and her skin covered with an array of cosmetics, but nonetheless she looked nothing short of gorgeous. Her shirt’s sleeves draped thick over one shoulder, went across her back and wrapped around the opposite arm and her skirt starting off short on one side and spreading halfway down her leg on the other. Princess meets slut and it looked fashion forward. Quinn slowly picked up the piece of material, which morphed into a dress. It was black and slim and tube-topped, but it came with a pair of unattached sleeves. The hem on the tops and bottoms of the dress and the arm socks were black lace. It looked like something one might see in a graveyard, actually. “God, I can’t wear this.”

“Why?” Garnet stopped dancing. “I’m going with two people and if Adele won’t wear something other than black, you at least have to look pretty.”

She ducked on instinct, when Adele threw something at her, and dragged a struggling, protesting Quinn into the bathroom.

Adele took the time to make sure she herself looked, in her own way, presentable. Her hair was the pure opposite of Garnet, black and wavy. Her own face was pale and hard and lean, with over-obvious cheekbones and dark, arching eyebrows over red irises. Garnet had red eyes too, but not Quinn.

Quinn fought her way out of the bathroom and Garnet's hands, sighing. Her hair, naturally silver, had held up okay to the brush, and despite her earlier protests, she rather liked the dress now. It looked . . . mournful, and that, if nothing else, was Quinn. Adele glanced her charge. Looking at Quinn nearly made her sick. Her face was so even and pretty it almost hurt. The wide, innocent eyes just about begged for a Prince Charming to swoop up and rescue her, but Quinn was shy and probably stronger than Adele herself. Quinn had her own hard past.

Adele slipped off before the club. Not that Garnet was surprised at all. Clubs weren’t A’s scene. Upon arrival, Quinn seated herself in a corner and ignored all offers to dance. Again, no surprise. She looked desperate, but Garnet knew that Quinn was disgusted by all of the male gender, although she didn't quite know why. Quinn was an individual, she supposed, and had to laugh at the immediate and crisp mental image of an entire society of Quinn’s. That was a scary thought.

Someone smiled at Garnet just as “Promiscuous” started, and asked her to dance. A sexy guy in his twenties. Mmmm, delicious.

She got close and put her arms on his shoulders and her hands on the back of his head; his hands fell automatically to her waist. The horn dog. Garnet moved her hips. Sucker Punch was drawn in, hook, line, and sinker. See, Quinn, this is how it’s done. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, which had a five-o-clock shadow and smelled sweet. Her nose tickled his earlobe. His movements accelerated. Oh, this is fun. Garnet went south. Her lips touched the ridge from his ear to his shoulder; his vein, holding his life inside his body.

See where this is going?

Garnet bore her fangs to the roots. Holding his head steady with her hands, she breathed in deeply. Sucker Punch had no idea what was going on.

Garnet bit.

Sucker Punch gasped, stiffened in her arms. Immediately, her lips drew down to cover her teeth. Anyone watching would think she was giving him a hickey. Actually, it was an upgrade. Hickey 2.0.

Garnet released him. As she watched, the wound closed and healed, leaving only a small dimple on his throat. He looked down at her, eyes glazed. “What-“ he choked at her. His words were slurred. To look at him, he’d had too much to drink.

Three very different but good friends, all of them sixteen, living on their own, braving the world together? Admit it, you knew something was up. Yeah, you guessed it. They’re all vampires.

Quinn watched Garnet at work. It was amazing--- she could draw a guy in like a fish on a line. For a moment she wished she could do what G. did, but decided she’d rather kill herself than wiggle around in front of a guy like that. Quinn required no one. . These guys were in it for the body and they got the surprise of their life.

Garnet left her prey and stalked over to Quinn, who silently handed her a glass of water and tapped her teeth.

“Ah,” said Garnet, swallowing a liberal amount of water and swishing it around to get the blood off her teeth. “C’mon, Quinny, try it, it’s fun.”

“No thanks,” said Quinn quietly. She nursed a soft spot for humans, still. “I think I’ll go for a walk.

Garnet's concern showed on her face; all over her face. She grabbed Quinn's wrist. "Look, you have to eat."

Quinn shook her head. The idea of intimacy- of being so close to some one, so close and so sexual scared her. It made the blood rush to her head, her heart beat, adrenaline flood her system. Intimacy hurt, and not just emotionally either.

It brought up memories.

Watching all these people made her sick. Physically sick. It made her think of endless and countless nights where her father- her own father- had made her scared and helpless and empty inside, like a shell on the beach.

No. It was simply too much.

Quinn left.

Quinn took off her flats and looped them around her index finger. Better to be barefoot, she mused, and even better to be alone with her thoughts, frightening as they were. And to be alone, there was only one good spot- the cemetery.

It was an old cemetery. The gravestones were statues, not rectangles in the ground. Gargoyles and angels of death guarding their masters. As weird as it was, graveyards didn't make Quinn sad. She felt like she could absorb the thoughts of the corpses who resided there. She opened the tall black gate.

The grass was soft. Quinn danced between the tombstones, light as a breeze. Quinn spotted someone up ahead. A boy, in his late teens, maybe eighteen or nineteen, dressed in a dark suit, with his blonde hair sitting scruffily on his head. He stood in front of a particularly beautiful gravestone- an angel with her hair and her dress blowing in the wind and her face turned to the sky. He held a sketch pad in his hands. He was drawing her.

Whatever, thought Quinn. She wandered off and was halfway out of the boy's line of sight when he said "Wait."

Quinn stopped slowly and turned around. The boy had stopped drawing, stood up, and walked toward her. Quinn's heart began beating quickly and not out of attraction.

He got closer, and in the moonlight, Quinn made out his face. His eyes were large and kind and the structure of his face curved in an inviting way. He looked friendly.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Byron. Byron Myer."

"Oh," said Quinn slowly. "I'm Quinn. Just Quinn."

"Well, Just Quinn," Byron smiled. He had a nice smile. "Which is yours?"

"Huh?" She was momentarily wrong-footed by his question.

He waved his arm out to the side, indicating the cemetery. "The graves," Byron clarified. "Who are you here for?"

"Oh . . . none of them. I just like graveyards." Immediately, Quinn's face burned. Why am I talking to boys I meet in cemeteries?

"Oh." He cocked his head. "But you look so . . . sad."

Quinn didn't know quite how to respond to that. She waited for some means of apology, but there was none. Byron just stood there looking at her, holding his pencils and his sketch pad.

"I'm an art student," he explained. "I'm doing a report on art in every day life and I thought, you know, fancy tombstones."

That explained a little. "Then why the suit? And why are you out here now? It must be something like eleven at night."

Byron smiled at her still more. Damn, he was attractive. "Well, Just Quinn, I feel like I need to be respectful of the dead and the least I can do for them is dress up." Quinn nodded. "And you can think of me at this hour as an all-nighter." He shrugged as if to say "I'm a college student, what did you expect?"

"Um, yeah," she said slowly, helplessly. It's unexplored territory. "Yeah, I'd better be going. My friends."

"Oh." He looked genuinely sorry she was leaving. "Maybe you'll come back. It's very quiet around here."

Can't imagine why that might be.

"Yeah," said Quinn nervously. "Sure."

“Do you want to have dinner tomorrow night?”

His question threw her. “Ahh . . . what now?”

“Dinner. Tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Quinn didn’t know how to reject him. He looked to pleased and happy. “Yeah, um . . . sure.”

“Cool.” God, Byron looked happy. “How about nine? We can meet here and go to this awesome restaurant, ‘kay?”

“Sure,” Quinn choked, and fled.

Well, well, well . . . a first date.

Garnet stood in the dance floor, surrounded by the mosh pit. It was like being in a pit of human-sized snakes, but it was fun anyway. The music throbbed in her ear, carried by the people around her, bouncing up and down. She joined them.

A hand grabbed the back of her neck.

Garnet gasped out loud and her body curled up, her shoulders hunching and her arms drawing up to her chest. She felt two very different things at the same time- hot breath at her ear and something thin and cold between her shoulder blades.

"Vampire," the voice hissed, and a flash of pain along her spine like running your hand along the edge of a dagger. Without intending to, Garnet let out a cry of pain, but in the chaos around her, nobody even noticed. The hand at her neck shoved her to the floor. Again, everyone's head was tilted up, trying to see the DJ, and they didn't see her fall.

Garnet scrambled to her feet, gasping and pushing dancers out of the way. A redhead with a halter top and a pierced nose shrieked as Garnet knocked her beer all over her in her frenzy to get up. "Hey, man, what the hell-" she shouted, but Garnet didn't let her get any farther. She fled.

Quinn had wandered back to Garnet's club and she wasn't so surprised to see her friend come out. But her face was flushed and frightened, her chest heaving. She looked on the verge of tears, in fact.

"Garnet," Quinn said immediately. "Garnet, what happened?"

Garnet couldn't talk. The adrenaline flooding her veins made it both necessary to move and impossible to move. Nonetheless, she half jumped half fell into her friend’s arms. Quinn put her hand on G.'s back. The fabric there was torn and the skin covered in something warm and sticky. She raised her palm above her friend's head and studied it in the streetlight.

It was red.

"Oh my God, turn around." Quinn held her shoulders firmly and faced her toward the light. In the glow, she could see a long scratch from her neck to the bottom of her rib cage, bleeding heavily.

"Oh my God," repeated Quinn slowly. She ran her fingers across the ridge of ripped flesh and Garnet's body contracted ever so slightly in pain. "C'mon, Garnet, we need to get you back home."

It was a long walk back, so Quinn just bought the taxi. The driver seemed surprised at them, so say the least. "¿Dios, qué ha sucedido? ¿Necesita ella ayuda?" he ask, voice laden with concern. "Yeah, we're fine," said Quinn darkly, holding Garnet against her chest. "She'll be fine." Arriving at their hotel, Garnet was covered in blood. She'd get better- vampires are hardier then humans- but Quinn had to hold her and drag her into the elevator and to the hotel door. Awkwardly managing to support her friend and key the door at the same time, the light by the knob flashed green, the door swung open and-

"Oh my God," said Quinn in horror, staring at the room. "Oh my God." She didn't feel very safe at all. Adele was making her own way back to the hotel from across the city. Wrapped in her black trench coat, she trotted along the dark streets, wet from a drizzle. The knife she carried in her coat as a matter of habit was sheathed, Adele had fed, all was right with the world. Adele ate by ambush. That is, she grabbed some poor soul walking along the road alone, knocked them out, took her fair share, no more, and left them there, with all their money and possessions. She was usually decent enough to leave them in a secluded spot with a map, too.

It was a moment before Adele noticed the group following her. They were young men, but they didn't seem to be part of a gang. They were all white, with close-cut dark hair, and dark clothing, except for a red armband. Five of them- no wait, six. The sixth, lurking at the back of the group, was taller, blonder haired, and his armband was silver. They were following her, certainly, almost like a wolf pack- their movements were coordinated and controlled. They were a little ways behind her, but they were there, and they were a threat.

Adele turned a corner into an alleyway. If they wanted a fight, at least no one was going to sneak up on her to do it. She was going to fight to the death. As her head turned, she saw a flash of light, or a reflection, more accurately. A knife.

She pressed herself with more insistency into the brick wall behind her as a small mirror was held around the corner. They were searching for her . . . She unsheathed her knife and held it, ready to kill, in her hand.

They moved in with the efficiency of a predator, immediately blocking the entrance, holding their weapons out in front of them. They weren't knives . . . they were swords. Where the fuck did they get swords?!

"Vampire," said one of them, he had a cut on his cheek, loudly. "If you come with us peacefully, there will be no need for violence."

Yeah, I doubt that.

The companions of Mr. We Don't Want to Hurt You whipped their heads around and stared at him with the expression that reads "Don't get her hopes up."

Adele's heart hammered in her chest. To the death, she thought, and waited, not moving in the shadows.

"Vampire," the guy said, pretty much bellowing now. "If you don't-"

He didn't get any farther, because Adele threw her knife at him. She would have hit him on the throat dead center, but unfortunately he moved so, so slightly, accidentally, and the knife- we swear- lodged in his collar.

"Kill her!"

The blonde one plunged forward, practically frothing in his excitement. His hand was held out- the one not holding a sword- and he was holding, swear to God . . . a crucifix.

Adele wanted to laugh. A cross? That was a vampire repellant of lore- did she look like she was wearing an evening gown and strutting around a castle and tahlking like dis vith a Transylvanian accent? Maybe they had some garlic and holy water stashed away somewhere. She suspected Mr. Blonde Wad had believed the old myths and had secured a crucifix as a secret weapon. The others had on a surprised look, then frightened. Time, in Adele's eyes, slowed down.

She recoiled on herself, shielding her face with her hands. Blonde Wad let out a twisted bark of laughter, and leapt forward, holding the cross aloft, and at the last second Adele thrust her hands forward, wrapped them around the collar of his shirt, and swung him, head-first, into the wall next to him.

Wham! And then there were five. While he was down, she casually relieved him of his sword. No sense letting an unconscious dude keep his weapon, right?

Adele with no weapons and six armed opponents and it would have gone hard with her, but she probably would have won. Adele with a knife and six armed opponents would have won by a considerable margin. Adele with a sword and five armed opponents . . . well, let's not go into that.

She plunged in, snarling, cat among the pigeons. Whack! The flat of her sword smacked into somebody's temple and they fell. Whack! Somebody took a swipe at her. She spun on her heel and slammed the handle into his nose. Blood spurted and its owner yelped and fell back, hands over his face. Somebody tackled her from the front. Adele wrapped her fingers around the front of his throat and dug her nails into the yielding flesh as bodies jostled and fought at her sides and back. Holding her captive by the neck, she swung him around like a bat, knocking his comrades into each other and the walls in the closed space.

Thunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunk!

All six lay unconscious against the ground. Adele stood in the middle of them, panting. I need one of them, she thought, surveying them. But who? If she took one of the darker-haired ones, they might escape and be a threat. The blonde one might not know everything. Who to choose?

Somebody! Pick somebody! Anyone!

Ten minutes later, Adele was trotting back down the street, a blonde vampire hunter tucked under her arm.

Adele didn’t bother with taxis. She walked. She was beginning to reclaim a fraction of the peace she had felt earlier.

Until she opened the door to the hotel room.

Garnet lay on the one mattress, on the floor, which was ripped almost beyond recognition. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs. Her eyes were glazed, her mouth hung slightly open, and her blonde-hair fanned out like the pool of soaked-in blood she was laying in. Quinn was sitting on the shattered remains of the television, stiff and regally, and her face was dark and spelled murder. Her fingers were flexed until the joints stood out white and the tendons pronounced, with the fingernails digging in through her dress. It must have hurt, but Quinn gave no sign.

The carpet itself had been hacked up off the ground. The walls were scarred, gouged. Everything in the room was clawed and ripped, like someone had released a rabid lion on the furniture. The fall wall, parallel to the door, had suffered the most. A cross had been stabbed into the wall, sliced open as if with a cleaver. The tacky wall paper was stained red. Blood. And carved into the plaster, where it was the very first thing anyone saw when they came in the door, were words. Ugly, scrawled, and stained.

Rot in hell, vampyrs.

Adele couldn’t think of anything to say. Her pulse quickened, and she felt cold. So cold. Her brain needed a second to catch up with her body.

“So,” said she said after an infinite moment of silence, louder than anything she’d ever heard. “Raging house party, huh?”

She threw the unconscious vampire hunter onto mattress frame. He slumped and Garnet laughed as if through syrup and rolled over. Quinn hurried and picked her up out of the way.

“Is she okay?” Adele asked. “What happened to her?”

Quinn shrugged as best she could. “I guess someone knifed her or something- I didn’t really get a chance to ask. She lost a lot of blood and she’s really out of it, but she’ll be fine.” She wrapped one pale hand around the back of Garnet’s yellow head, pressed Garnet’s face against her neck and kissed her forehead, but not in a sexual way. The gesture seemed parental, maternal, loving. Who was the “helpless” one in this group, again?

Adele nodded and returned to her task. God, Quinn was so admirable. Quinn was good and nice and better than anything she could ever hope for herself.

She found the comforter under the bed. Slashed at, but not really shredded, and Adele could see why. Who would bother to tear up a tacky hotel blanket when you wanted to inflict serious damage? She closed her fangs around the edge and tugged at it.

Within a few minutes, the disgusting hotel blankets were ripped into four strips. Strips that could tie around a person’s hands and feet. Which was, of course, their purpose. Within a few minutes, Blonde Wad was securely tied to the bed frame.

“Now,” said Quinn. “Explain.”

“Explain what?”

Quinn flashed her a “What are you, an idiot?” look.

“Oh.”

Adele explained how she had fed, was walking, got flanked by a group, etcetera, etcetera. You know what happened. Quinn also explained her night, and that includes getting a date.

Everything was starting to ravel together.

“So Garnet was definitely knifed by this . . . group,” Adele said slowly, thinking out loud. “And some of them came after me. You were the only one not targeted.” She narrowed her eyes. “Were you?”

“What?”

“What about this Brian? He could be working for them. He invited you to dinner?”

“Byron, but yes.”

Adele smiled widely. Her gleaming fangs made her look predatory, but then again, she was. “Then we’ll be right with you.”

Quinn hadn’t thought she’d be able to sleep. Her mind was whirling with too many complicated thoughts- in the space of about five hours, everything had fallen apart at the seams. She wasn’t the hunter anymore, she was the hunted.

Quinn hadn’t thought she’d be able to sleep. But she did.

She woke up with sunlight streaming through her closed eyelids. Sunlight.

Vampires, in and of themselves, are nocturnal. Sunlight is unpleasant, as their eyes are made to collect all the light possible and their bodies are otherwise adapted for night, but not deadly.

Quinn got up. Her joints were stiff and her dress wrinkled, but nonetheless she ignored her shortcomings and let herself out the door, catching and holding it with her foot on the way out.

For a moment it was like being on the surface of the sun. Blinding white was everywhere and she flinched, but within ten minutes the light had faded. Not enough to suit Quinn’s eyes, but enough. And it was wonderful. Quinn sighed. She hadn’t felt real warmth on her skin for a while. She felt alive, if only for a second.

Quinn savored the feeling for a few minutes, then went inside, latched the door, drew the curtains, and made coffee. Quinn’s coffee was evil and jam-packed so full of caffeine it could have woken up someone in a coma.

Quinn poured a small amount into a paper cup and crawled to Garnet’s place on the mattress. She poked her. “Garnet.”

Garnet mumbled and rolled over slightly, sounding the same as she did most mornings- or evenings. “Garneeeeeet,” Quinn wheedled. “I have something that will make you feeeeeel beeeetteeeerrrr.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Quinn chased her with the cup. When Garnet rolled onto her back, stiff as it was, Quinn took her opportunity and poured a mouthful of coffee between the dry lips.

Garnet yelped and sat up quickly- too quickly, regarding her stiff and scabbed back, because she contracted in pain, gasped, lost her balance, and fell-face first to the mattress. She lay there, not moving, looking up at Quinn balefully.

“Good coffee, hmm?”

“Go to hell, Quinn Tyler.” Garnet rolled over rigidly to her stomach and did a sort of crawl off the shredded mattress. She kept her back perfectly still, her forearms straight, and only moved her legs and her elbows to get around. It was like she was trying to belly-crawl across a minefield.

Garnet waddled over to Adele, who was asleep on the floor in “classic vampire pose.” She was perfectly straight, tall and stiff, her arms crossed over her chest like a corpse. Her chin tilted in the air, exposing the long, lean, white throat, marred only by two scars. I’m sure you can guess where those are. Her face was not relaxed- her eyes were shut smoothly, but her eyebrows were wrenched together in a grimace of sorts, her forehead rumpled with worry. The whole of her face was angular and dark. Quinn got the creepy impression that she had opened up a tomb.

“Adele,” said Garnet softly. Her words were barely more than a whisper. “Quinn’s going to force feed you her coffee.”

In a movement so swift even vampire eyes could not detect much more than a blur, Adele woke up, plunged to her feet, and leapt the length of the room in one smooth motion. When her friend’s eyes caught up with her, she was found pressed against the opposite wall, her red eyes dark and glittering and her lips drawn up to reveal fangs. She was poised to fight.

“Thanks, guys,” Quinn said. “That really helped my self-esteem.” She regarded the cup wistfully, and then swallowed two mouthfuls with no reaction.

“God,” said Adele, not moving. “How do you do that?”

Quinn shrugged. Her eyes flickered to Blonde Wad. He was still out cold.

“I wonder . . .” she said slowly, and met down and poured the remainder of the coffee into his gaping mouth.

Blonde Wad stirred. His eyes opened blearily and he rasped something wetly. The blood on his head where Adele had smashed him into a brick wall- without remorse- had dried and was flaking off. He raised himself as best he could, trying to look at Quinn.

Quinn widened her already large eyes and extended with one pale and delicate hand to sweep the stray blonde hair off his forehead. Adele raised an eyebrow.

“Hi,” said Quinn quietly, tenderly. She ran the tops of her fingers along his jaw line. “Are you okay now?” She glanced at her friends and Adele got the point. She picked up Garnet in one hand and sealed them both in the bathroom. They could hear easily, being vampires and all, but nonetheless they pressed their ears against the wall.

Blonde Wad blinked helplessly. Quinn sat back on her haunches and cocked her head at him. “Whaaa . . .” he choked out.

Quinn sniffed and put her hand over her mouth. Through her fingers, she mumbled “I’m sorry, but I never know if any day is going to be my last, because of . . . you.”

“Me?” Blonde Wad regained his control over his mouth.

Quinn nodded mournfully, and then lurched her face into her hands and sobbed tearlessly. "I know you want to kill me, but I don't know why! God, I'm so scared." She sniffed. Thank God Blonde Wad was suffering from a head injury, otherwise he'd never fall for it.

Blondie frowned at her. "We call ourselves the Valindias," he said slowly. "They were the first hunters, they started all this."

Quinn didn't think that was a particularly good excuse.

"Vampires are evil," he said slowly. Quinn made a show of raising her head from her fingers. "We call you the Casador." He rested his chin on his chest. "El cazador llega a ser el cazado. Hunter becomes the hunted. All the vampires. They're an epidemic."

Blondie's eyes bulged and he screamed "Epidemic! A plague! Kill them all!"

Okay, thought Quinn. No more coffee for you.

Adele knew- and rightly- that Blondie was not going to give out any more information. She breezed out of the bathroom door, wrapped her hand into a fist, and dealt him a sharp blow above his ear. Blondie’s eyes glazed and he dropped out of consciousness.

“Well,” said Garnet, hobbling along behind. “That explained a lot.”

“Yeah, someone’s trying to kill us. Now what?”

“We go looking for trouble,” said Adele. Smiling widely, she began to rifle through Blondie’s pockets.

“What are you looking for?”

“This,” said Adele. She held up a small cell phone, solid black. She accessed the history as Garnet and Adele crowded around her.

“Check it out. Looks like Blonde Brain’s been calling the same people over and over. Particularly this one.” She clicked OK and waited.

An image appeared on the little camera screen- all three girls instinctively leaned forward and bumped heads to get a look at the grainy picture. Adele recognized it. It was the dark-haired man with a scar on his cheek, although his nose looked awfully swollen too.

“So,” he said. “I suppose you’ve killed Kaine.”

“Who?” Quinn asked. “Blondie?”

The man cast them an amused look. “Yes, Blondie. You have his phone.”

“No,” said Garnet. “He’s still alive.” She glanced at him, lying on the bed. “He’ll probably have a concussion, though.”

“Really. Kaine never was good for much. We figured you’d tourture him and kill him after you got all the information out of him.”

Adele rolled her eyes. “We would, but damn it, I forget my instruments of pain at the last hotel. But my friend here used her feminine powers against him, didn’t you?” She smirked. Quinn turned several shades of red.

“Back to business,” Adele said. “Would you like to tell me why you are trying to kill us?” It was his turn to smirk now. “A worldwide exfoliation of your kind, miss. You’re a plague on the earth, and we are the vaccine. Hunting you to the very corners of the Earth, did you know that? Killing you off, one . . . by . . . one.”

Jeez, thought Adele. Shouldn’t someone from the mental facilities be coming for you right about now?

“And we have something to tell you, miss . . . Adele.”

Adele narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, that’s me.” She itched to demand how they knew her name, but she didn’t ask.

“Oh, I know. We are very well informed about you . . . oh yes, very, very. Are your friends as educated?”

Adele kept her silence.

“No?” he hissed. “Well, my little ángel exterminadors, did you know your dear friend is one of three? A triplet? Did you know what happened to her two brothers? Did she tell you that? Did she keep secrets from you? Did she?”

Adele’s face darkened. Garnet just stared at her, confused, and Quinn did nothing. She had a few secrets of her own.

“Yes,” said Adele faintly. “I have.”

“Would you like to know what happened to one brother? Would you?”

“No,” choked Adele. Her eyes remained steadfastly dry, but she dug her nails into her palm until her joints turned white and blood dripped to the floor. “No . . . please don’t . . . ”

The image changed. A new man took the screen. He had large, black eyes, arching eyebrows, and sharp cheekbones. And he looked just like Adele.

Physically, that is. None of them, no vampire, and no hunter, had any difficulty believing they were siblings. But something was different, too. His face was so twisted with malice and hate when he looked at them through the phone his features twisted in disgust. It was like he was an entirely different person.

Adele’s face paled. “No,” she said in a voice that was painfully unlike the one any of them had known. It sounded ragged with heartbreak. She put her head in her hands. “No, no, no.”

“It’s me, Adele,” he spat. “What? Did you think I was dead? Like Atchie? Oh, no, of course not.” He smiled, but it was more threatening than a leer. “Did you forget about me? Did you? Come on, let’s be the three of us again, let’s just be Adele, Daman and Achementha, how about that? Let’s all be together.” His smile vanished. “Dead.” “No,” Adele sobbed. She drew in a rattling breath. “What happened to you? What did they do to you? Why are you like this?” “Why would I be different?” Daman shrieked. He was really screaming now. “Just because my brother killed himself and my sister becomes undead . . . noooo, why would I be anything other? That wouldn’t make any sense!” “Stop,” Adele said softly. “Please stop.” There was a scuffle on the other end- after a moment, the vampire hunter reappeared. “I hope that gives you something to think about,” he sneered. “We’ll see you shortly.” The feed clicked off. “Oh my God,” said Quinn quietly. She extended one pale hand and touched Adele’s shoulder. “Oh . . . my . . . God.” “Is that all?” snapped Garnet. “Excuse me? What are you keeping from us? ‘Cause it sounds to me like this ‘secret’ of yours is going to get us killed.” She was really pissed. “No,” said Adele dumbly. “It wasn’t him, it wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t.” “Oh, yeah, well-“ “Shut up!” Quinn shouted. “Garnet, shut up! Can’t you tell you’re being a bitch! Stop! Now!” Garnet’s features were smothered in indignation, but she kept quiet. Maybe it was because Quinn swore. Quinn never swore. “Okay,” Quinn said. She took Adele’s shoulder and held her firmly. Her lifeline. “What happened?” “Achementha?” said Garnet. “Achementha?” Adele laughed a little, although it was almost lost in her tears. She rubbed her nose with her knuckles. “Atchie, actually. It’s what we called him. My grandmother, after the three of us were born, she named him. Grandma was big on biblical names. She was kind of a Bible-thumper. “Atchie, when we were sixteen, he met this girl. Katy, I think she was called. He was crazy about her- absolutely nuts. Talked about her all the times, was always out with her. I didn’t like her.” Adele’s eyes darkened. “I still don’t.” “And . . . “ Garnet said slowly. As interesting at Adele’s life was, she didn’t need a editorial on anything. “She broke up with him.” Quinn was beginning to see where this was going. “God, she was a bitch. Told him she loved him, wanted to get married, wanted to be with him forever, next day, she tells him she hates him, never wants to see him again. The works. “He killed himself the next day. Bought a handgun, shot himself in the head. God, everybody was messed up, really messed up, for a while. That’s when I . . . decided to change.” Adele’s eyes filled with anguish. “I didn’t want to die!” she lamented. “I didn’t want it to happen again to my family because I got in a car crash or anything. But then I . . . became what I am now, and I thought I was going to hurt somebody, kill someone, and that would be as bad as me dying, wouldn’t it? So I could leave my family, no one would get hurt, and at least I wouldn’t be dead, right?” Quinn’s heart broke for her. She had memories of being in a place like that, where every way out of a nightmare brought only more misery. Can’t go forward, can’t go back, can’t stay where you are. She touched Adele’s shoulder. Quinn was suddenly pulled back into space and time with a jolt when she noticed the sun setting. How did that happen? “I think my date’s soon. Do any of you know what time it is?” Garnet sat straight up. “Date?” “Yes.” “What are you doing, talking about a date?” Adele asked. “It’s off, isn’t it?” “Hell no,” said Garnet brightly. “It’s your tragedy, not hers. C’mon, Quinn.” Quinn resisted, but Garent, obviously feeling better, grasped her wrists and literally hauled her along the floor and into the bathroom. It was a full two hours later that Garnet released her prisioner. Quinn’s silver hair had been tied back into a deliberately messy bun, a few tendrils escaping over her face. She looked prettier than ever. The clothes she’d been wearing prior to the black dress had been there for a long time, trashed, so she’d smoothed the present dress as best she could, but other than that, she was . . . well . . . gorgeous. The streets calmed Adele’s nerves. The honking horns, drivers shouting “Fuck you!” at each other, it was all soothing to her, but Adele had grown up in a city. She and Garnet hid in the tombstones as Quinn, understandably jumpy, met up with Byron and walked to the restaurant. The Italian Noodle, the restaurant was called. Okay. It was smokey inside, hot, but it smelled delicious. Adele’s mouth watered on the first step inside. Damn. Someone in the food-induced haze inside the restaurant stepped forward as Quinn and Byron sat down in a booth. “Adele?” Adele turned, looked at the girl. She was pretty in a muted, regal sort of way. Her face was long and thin, her nose long and aristorcraic and a smattering of pale freckles across her already pale face was found under her eyes. Her hair was hald-hanging, half tucked behind her ears, straight and simple. “Hayley?” Hayley had been a vampire before she. Hayley had been her friend. Hayley had helped her decide to change. God, Adele hadn’t seen her in forever. Hayley grinned in a way that gave Adele that slightly off feeling. “Yeah. Me.” Adele did something she would never have done to anyone else. She stepped forward on one foot and tapped on her the nose. Hayley made a noise halfway between a chainsaw whirring to life and a banshee being scapled. Her hands flew up to cover her face and she shrieked “My nose! Yahhh!” “Here,” said Adele. She made a show of holding Hayley’s “nose” and releasing it. “I never did get why you freak out about that.” “When someone steals my nose, it’s like they stole part of my soul.” She put her hands in her jacket pocket. “What have you been up to?” “Oh, the usual. Drinking blood, hunting . . . nothing new and exciting. You?” Hayley laughed. “Actually, I’m here on a date, but I told him I was going to the bathroom.” “I’m on surveillance.” It was a mark of Hayley’s acceptance of reality that she did not snicker or show any sign of disbelief. “And if you see any guys . . . get your ass out.” Hayley made a gesture indicating the restaurant and all the guys within it. “No, they have short, dark hair and armbands. If they go for you, kick their asses, got it?” “Yeah. Sure.” Over at the table, Quinn was about to have a heart attack. Byron looked so . . .serious. He looked at her solemnly. When she looked at the menu, he looked at her. He watched her. Not to determine how she thought of things or anything like that. He looked at her for the sake of looking at her. It made her feel skittish and trapped. Well, skittish, trapped, and a little bit flattered, maybe. "What would you like to eat?" he asked her, in the intrest of being a good date, but for Quinn that made everything waaaay too complicated. Her brain kept devising these demented answers that she almost blurted out. Hmmm, let me think, maybe . . . blood? Then- Ah! No! Not that! "Uh-" "The ravioli in meat sauce is really good here." The waitress came over. She pulled out a pen from her flyaway hair and said "What can I get you folks?" in the sort of tone that indicated she would rather crawl into a corner and die than take one more order. She looked at Quinn. "Bloo- um, a Coke, please." "Two Cokes." "I'm ready to order," mumbled Quinn. "Raviloi in meat sauce, please." She handed in her menu. Byron ordered something- she forgot what- and sat there across from her, smiling. God. Quinn had a thing about eating people. She didn’t like it- as a matter a fact, the city morgue was consistently noticing that two corpses- per month- was getting drained dry. Quinn hadn’t eaten living human . . . well, ever. It grossed her out, and here, sitting across from Byron, she was really, really, really hungry, and not exactly for ravioli in meat sauce either. What is that all about? "I have to go to the bathroom," said Byron. "I'll be right back." He got up and walked past her, but as he did so, he kissed the top of her head. As he bent down over her, Quinn’s skin tingled. It would be easy, she thought. Just to grab him and do it, right now. It’s not like he would know until it was too late. “I’ll be back, Quinn,” he said. Byron reached down and squeezed her hand. She let him go. Well, she thought. I think it’s pretty clear I’m falling for him. Adele’s sharp eyes suddenly noted that Byron had gotten up and was heading for the restrooms. She smiled blankly at Hayley, half-waved, and jumped directly over an empty table in persuit. Hayley watched her go, shrugged to herself, and went about her vampiric way. Adele followed him into the men’s. A guy at a urinal started when he saw her walk in, and immediately zipped himself up and took his leave hastily, but she paid him no heed. Instead she grabbed the back of Byron’s jacket and hauled him into the nearest stall. Adele was- and is- quite tall, somewhere around six-foot-two. Byron was more along the lines on five-foot-six, which of course meant Adele towered over him by a staggering eight inches. So poor Byron here was flanked by someone over half a foot taller than he that he didn’t know and pulled into a bathroom stall. Nonetheless, he only relayed his surprise by widened eyes and stiff muscles. “Byron,” said Adele. She grabbed his shirt and lifted him off the ground, a little below her eye level, and pressed her forehead against his, as tall and intimidating as a dragon. “You,” said she “are dating Quinn. You will date no one but Quinn until she is finished with you, understand?” “Ah,” Byron said. “No offense, but who the fuck are you?” “I’m Quinn’s friend, but back to business. If you make her cry, I will kill you, understand?” She was serious. She was dead serious. “I will kill you and I will laugh about it. Got it?” Yes. He got it. Adele unlocked the door and shoved him out of it. Someone else, a fourteen year old, was coming in, and his imagination appeared to be in overdrive at the thought of a boy and a girl in a stall together, no matter the girl being eight inches taller than the boy and a vampire besides. “What are you looking at?” The boy shook his head wordlessly, but Adele speared him with a look and breezed out. Byron stood outside the door for a moment, then wandered back to the table where Quinn was sitting, waiting painfully. "What?" she asked him. He considered for a moment. "Do you have a really tall friend who is wearing, like, black cargo pants and a black tank top and a black jacket and red contacts?" Pause. "Yes. Oh God, what did she- ?" He shook his head. "No reason." Adele stalked back to the front of the restaurant. She felt powered, excited. Ready. Which is good, because that's when she noticed that dark-haired guys with armbands were lurking about in the background. Garnet was stationed near the back, and didn’t have much to do except look at things and twiddle her thumbs. She took note of the quiet footsteps coming closer to her and deliberately didn’t look up until they were directly next to her and had ceased altogether. She looked up. An armband guy. “Figures.” “What,” he said quietly. “You didn’t want to see me?” “Not really. Trying to kill me and my friends . . . It’s kind of a deal-breaker.” Casually she flexed her back. It felt better, at least enough to make a getaway if necessary. Subtly, her hand shifted toward the empty table, with all its place settings, to her right. “Look,” he said faintly. “We don’t want to hurt you. We wanted to scare you. Adele, yes, she is a significant threat, and we tried to take her down as a group. But not you. You, you still have time to come over to our side. The good side.” Garnet shook her head. “I’ll pass.” “Fine then.” He reached into the inside of his jacket and pulled out- “Adele!” Adele whipped her head around to the sound. It was Garnet herself, standing next to the enemy, who was holding- A syringe? Quinn whipped her head around too and saw the same, but she, unlike the others, was touched by the graces of a great idea. Ding, ding . . . light bulb. She slid out of her chair, took a breath and “Vampires! In the restaurant! Everywhere! Run for your lives! Members of the undead! Run!” Not everyone believed that, but there was something of a panic. Garnet grabbed a bread knife and swung it around at her usurper. He ducked, she kicked, he groaned, she ran. Fast. Adele snarled. She picked a table- in use- and flung it like a Frisbee into a wall. They converged. Like a dog pile. Like a football team. Like a stack of clothes. Whump! She dodged. They got out their swords. She danced between her two feet. “Come and get me.” They came. And they got her. Okay, okay. I’m getting ahead of myself. I shouldn’t ruin the story for you. Why don’t I tell you what happened first. Adele took a step backward and shifted her weight, back and forth, back and forth. It distantly reminded her of being a little kid and playing tag. Everybody hated her in those games. She outran everybody. She smiled humorlessly at them. The Valindias went around the edges of the restaurant. The cautious approach, and she noticed a guy mutter something to another guy who nodded, and that was the man who moved in fast, sprang over a table and raised his sword-arm and his syringe-arm. All in the time it took Adele to blink. “What the he-“ she shouted, but he hissed at her. He had fangs. He was a vampire. Adele’s entire body burned with shame for him. He was a sell out. A traitor. A double-crosser. A fucking Benedict Arnold, for God’s sake. Adele, instead of moving away from him, went for his face. With her teeth. By instinct, he pushed her off, and his sword sliced her thigh. Like, bad. She gasped and fell off him, scrambling away crab-style. Blood was streaming. God, it was everywhere. The sharp, rusty and ever potent odor was heavy around her. Adele rushed, still belly-up, under the nearest round, quaint little table. Stomp stomp stomp. Mister Turncoat was up and looking for revenge. Adele squeezed her eyes shut, wrapped her arms around her head, and kicked upward with both feet. A searing pain- not unlike getting your leg ripped off by an over-sized wolf- hit her brain. She couldn’t even see. “ARRRGHHH!” He jumped on her. Literally. He tackled Adele and wrestled with her and tried to get his syringe ready simultaneously. At this close of range, she could see the cloudy white fluid he intended to inject into her. The thought inspired her to an entirely level of hatered. Rage. Seeing red. Well, it was either seeing red or more blood had gotten in her eyes then she’d thought. She grabbed his collar, clawed at his face. He pulled something out of his pocket- a little squirt bottler. He raised it, squeezed it and- AGONY! BURNING, FIREY, BLISTERING AGONY! On one level, Adele’s brain registered Pepper spray. Fuck. On another, it was shattering chaos. She rolled into a ball, clawed at her face with her own nails, and screamed and screamed. She heard yelling outside of her head, but it didn’t register. Adele felt the slow coldness spreading from the tiniest prick somewhere on her black. She flailed out, grabbed and pulled and yanked and pretty much raised hell, but there were weights settling on her chest and stomach. Another needle was shoved into her neck- she could feel a rush of ice in her head. It made her thoughts foggy and her movements almost feel as if through molasses. Adele didn’t like it, and she fought harder. Somebody yelled “Jesus, I need another needle! Damn, how much is that!” There was another blast of cold, and this time, she was immobilized comepletely. Adele dropped to the floor, panting for breath, and through her eyes, still open, she could see the heads of the Valindias, looking down at her. One of them knelt down. Vaguely she recogniozed the telltale scar on his cheek. “Look at you,” he said quietly. “You are a magnificent creature. Do you know how much it took to put you down like that? Do you see how much trouble you are? It’s amazing. And it makes me sad, on one level, to see you like this. Like caging a lion. On the other hand, it’s kind of a relief. Like, ‘about time,’ you know?” He touched her cheek. Through the foggy mist that was her mind, Adele wanted to shriek. She wanted to grab his arm, separate it from his body, and beat him to death with it. She wanted, but she couldn’t move. He looked up. “Can I have those bracelets?” One of the Valindias handed them to him- the bracelets were not unlike inflatable handcuffs. The hunter fastened them to her wrists- they were very heavy, made of metal or something, they didn’t connect to each other. And they came filled with a liquid and a needle on the inside. Adele realized with a sinking heart what that could only mean. The Valindias leader stood up. “Where’s the blonde one?” A kid- a teenager, really- with a unibrow pushed her forward. Garnet’s eyes were open, her hair was bloody, but she stood stiffly nonetheless. Her jaw was clenched. He- Mr. Cut-Cheek- smiled darkly at her. “And how has your day been?” “What’s your name?” “I beg your pardon?” “What is your name?” “You aren’t exactly in a position to usurp my authority, are you? Your little fighter friend is sedated, and your albino friend is-“ he paused. “Where is the pale one?” “Pale one, sir?” “She’s not an albino!” Garnet snapped. “She doesn’t get much sun!” “And I am dearly surprised. Where is she?” “We, um, we could only find two of them. Sir.” I am aware that you don’t know what has happened to our dear, delicate Quinn because I am unable to tell two stories at the same time. I will rectify this for you. Rewind up to where Quinn was yelling about the undead. “Vampires! In the restaurant! Everywhere! Run for your lives! Members of the undead! Run!” There was something of a panic. Mothers, whether or not they believed her, clutched up their children and fled. Fathers shouted and teens on dates stopped necking. Fingers around her wrists tugged Quinn out of her chair. She tugged back. She didn’t even need to ask who it was. “Byron,” she hissed. “Stop!” He pushed his head forward until it was right in front of Quinn’s face. “Quinn, we have to get out! Now!” She struggled, but Byron picked her up and carried her out of the restaurant. Quinn was a vampire- of course- and it was only that she was surprised at his daring that he managed to force her into something. Once she was outside of the screaming chaos that was the Italian Noodle, she wrapped her hand around the back of Byron’s neck and squeezed. He hunched up and dropped her. “My friends are in there!” she shouted. “The Valindias are trying to capture them!” He whirled her around to face him. “Quinn!” He said, not loud. Somewhat angry, but not loud. “If those . . . those . . . those whatevers take your friends and then they get you, you can’t help them much, can you? No! You can’t! And beyond that, I really, really don’t think your dark friend is going down without taking a few people with her.” “Adele! Her name is goddamn Adele.” Byron looked at her. He looked so serious and still so handsome. She could see a pulse in his neck and closed her eyes to it. “Why?” he asked. “Why what?” “Why are they trying to hurt you?” Quinn paused. She thought about it. If she was going to have him help her, she’d have to tell him eventually, right? “Do you believe in the supernatural, Byron?” “No. I believe in the precise arts. Science. Geometry.” There was a short hiatus, her debating and him wondering. “Why?” Quinn bit her lip. “Later.” “No,” said Byron firmly. He reached out and held her wrists fast. “You tell me, right here, right now.” “I’m a vampire.” Her response clearly wrong-footed him and he whipped his arms off hers. Quinn got something of a feeling of immense smugness, although she couldn’t place why. He took several steps back, glaring, and shook his head. “Oh Christ,” Byron muttered. “You’re in a cult, aren’t you?” “No, I’m- wait, what?” “A cult. Brothers and Sisters of UFO Forever or something and you people all think you’re vampires and nobody thinks for themselves and you could have nukes and you might drink poison just because you can and-“ he was steamrolling. “Byron!” Quinn yelled, louder than she meant to. He quieted. “Please. Shut up. You are so dead wrong it hurts.” “So, then what?” She couldn’t think of any more arguments. “Well, you’re wrong, okay? I’m not in a cult. I’m a vampire. I’m a real vampire. And you either believe me or . . . or I go and resue my friends on my own. Without you.” “Prove it, then. Turn into a bat or something.” Quinn really, really couldn’t think of anything to counter that. So she just stared at him, gaping. “Please tell me that was a joke. Please.” He shook his head. “God.” Quinn put her hands over her face. “Show me something. Prove it,” Byron repeated. Quinn tipped her head back, opened her mouth, writhed up her lips. Her fangs shone pearly white in the moonlight. “Jesus,” said Byron slowly. “Can I- can I, like, touch it?” “I won’t bite.” He did touch it. He extended one shakey finger, and gingerly prodded, just barely, her tooth. Then a little firmer, just to see if it’d give. What with being a real tooth and all, it didn’t. Quinn was getting twitches. She could smell him and he was putting his finger in her mouth. The temptation was maddening. Her brain was screaming at her to fucking eat him- there aren’t that many vampires who can honestly tell you that a human walked up to them and stuck a body part directly in front of them- it’d be like a cow coming to your house and saying “Please eat me. Please!’ Quinn’s conscious brain refused the offer, so her unconscious brain took matters into its own hands. Her jaw twitched, barely, his skin split, and holy crap, blood was all over her tongue. Byron yelped and jerked back, but the damage was done. Blood was streaming from a small nick. Quinn, for her part, made a whining noise and swallowed, but she took her time. She liked it. Really liked it. REALLy really liked it. Quinn let out a small laugh/cough. She remembered a book she’d read in sixth grade- Twilight, or something to that affect. “You’re my brand of heroin, I guess.” “What?” “Never mind.” Byron was somewhat appalled. “You drank me!” he raged. “Fuck!” “Believe me now?” “Yes.” Quinn smiled. “’Bout time. Now let’s get on with it.”

• * * * *

Adele blinked and raised her head off the floor. Her cheek was stiff and cold- if she had to hazard a guess, she’d say the ground was concrete. Her hands were held almost in an arm lock- twisted up her spine and her wrists bent back in a semi painful position, or it would be if her limbs hadn’t been long asleep. Adele rested her chin on the hard flooring. There were vampires