Sword and Stake Home Gen/Ensemble Page Shippy (M/F) Page Slash (M/M) Page Short Stories Page
Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 Home
Chapter 13
Niagara FallsAlicia Simmons unfastened her seat belt and slid out of the SUV. She waved good-bye to her mother and crossed the street, walking as slowly as she dared. She had just reached the opposite side when the light turned green. Giving her mother a final wave, she headed for the martial arts dojo as the SUV pulled out into traffic. When she was sure her mother was out of sight, she reversed direction, crossing the street again.
Martial arts training was boring—she'd much rather go to the mall with her friends. She was only 15 years old; none of her other friends had stupid responsibilities or jobs. In fact, most places wouldn't even hire you if you weren't sixteen! A couple of her friends were thinking about summer jobs so they could stock up on all the new fashions for school. That would be pretty cool. Maybe she'd look for a job as a lifeguard at one of the hotel pools for the summer. She could work on her tan, meet cute guys and have money for hot new school clothes.
This stupid job that her mom's friend found for her really sucked. They actually expected her to show up four afternoons every week and wash gross, dirty towels and clean and disinfect the showers and locker rooms at the dojo and did she even get paid for this crap job? Nope. Nada. Not a cent. She was supposed to do all this work in exchange for lessons and training in karate, jujitsu, Yu-gi-oh, kung pow or whatever it was they taught there. It was like they expected her to grow up to be Jackie Chan or something! Newsflash! Alicia Simmons was definitely not the Jackie Chan type! She was more the Mary-Kate Olsen type! Or, maybe Michelle Trachtenberg. Alicia had the same long, dark hair as Michelle, but she'd give anything to know how Michelle got hers so shiny. Heather said she read somewhere that Michelle used mayonnaise on her hair, so Alicia tried it. But it made her hair really greasy and stringy and she'd had to use almost a whole bottle of shampoo to get the stuff out!
Alicia walked faster as the mall came into view. She was supposed to meet Heather and the gang at the food court. They'd get a snack before deciding which stores to check out. She hoped they'd waited for her—she could really go for some cheese fries! Everyone else went directly to the mall after school, but she had to let her mom drive her all the way to the stupid dojo and then had to walk all the way back to the mall.
It wasn't as if she actually needed all that martial arts training—she had Slayer-strength, after all.
**********Quebec
Mrs. Hatcher shed her outerwear in the kitchen and went right in to see Will. She clucked sympathetically.
“Should I . . . do you want me to boil water or something?” Anne asked.
Mrs. Hatcher patted her hand. “No thank you, dear. I haven't had a chance to examine him yet, but it's fairly safe to assume that I won't be performing surgery, and he's not having a baby. But you could give a look-see to that fire before it goes out.”
“I can try.”
Mrs. Hatcher tsk-tsked. “City kids!”
Her work-roughened hands gently began an examination of Will's injuries.
“Oh my. Looks like you tried to ride that fool stallion the Coopers keep.”
“No.” Anne said clearly. “I did it. I did that to him.”
“Anne!” Will's voice was anguished.
Mrs. Hatcher looked from one to the other. She put her hands on her ample hips. “Don't you children know about a safe word?”
Anne and Will stared at her in puzzlement.
“You must agree on a word that means 'stop' and both agree to use it or . . .” She waved a hand at Will, presenting his condition as Exhibit A.
Anne's mouth dropped open in shock and Will began to wheeze with painful laughter. Mrs. Hatcher examined his ribs closely.
“Nothing broken, but you might have a bit of a cartilage tear here.”
She popped the rib back into place with a quick wrench. Will turned paper-white and saw stars before his eyes; funny—he had always assumed that was just an expression.
“Anne”, called Mrs. Hatcher. “Come here and hold this in place while I tape up these ribs.”
Will felt much better once everything was back where it should be and the ribs were immobilized. He could breathe again! His breaths were shallow, but regular.
“Now, don't you be taking the easy way out, Will. Deep breaths. Don't want to develop pneumonia.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Will replied, finding it difficult to look at her without bursting into laughter.
Mrs. Hatcher placed a Tupperware container on the table. “Vegetable soup for your dinner. You won't want anything too heavy tonight, Will.” A foil-wrapped loaf of bread followed. Reaching into her backpack again, Mrs. Hatcher handed Anne a jar. “Horse liniment. Nothing better for bruises—but don't put it on his eye.”
She began packing up her knapsack with the remaining first-aid supplies. “I'll let Mother Marie-Claire know you're here. Will shouldn't be left alone.”
“Thank you.” Anne murmured. “Thank you for your help and . . . everything.”
Mrs. Hatcher patted the back of Anne's hand before pulling on her gloves. “Now, don't forget about that safe word, dear.”
She let herself out, calling “Don't forget to lock up!” and skied off into the night.
Will and Anne deliberately tried to avoid looking at each other. Inevitably, their glances met and they burst out laughing.
Will clutched his ribs and gasped for breath, as tears of combined laughter and pain ran down his cheeks.
“Oh dear lord,” Will gasped. “I'll never be able to look Mrs. Hatcher in the eye again!”
“Did you have any idea what she was talking about?”
Will shook his head. “Not until she . . . explained.”
“I thought she was going to call the police when I told her I beat you up and instead . . . instead . . .”
“Who would have thought that the staid, respectable Hatchers were the type to get their kink on?”
“Do you think . . . I mean, do you suppose they really . . .do?”
“Well, it was the first conclusion she jumped to when you threw yourself to the proverbial lions. Why the bloody hell didn't you let her think it was an accident?”
Anne sobered immediately. “Because it wasn't. I hurt you and I needed to take responsibility for that. But she just thought it was part of some kinky sex game!” She paused. “Do people really do that . . . for fun?”
Will thought back to his vampiric nightmares. “Well, yeah. I think some people do. Enjoy pain. Or enjoy inflicting it on others.”
“Do you?”
“What? No! I don't think so. Do you?”
“I don't think so, either. But I don't know . . . I don't remember!”
“Well, I do know that I'll never be able to write about Deirdre and Azreal again without picturing the Hatchers! Now that's a truly disturbing thought.”
“And she just assumed that we were . . . you know . . . and that I'd be staying the night.”
“Will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Stay the night.”
“Well, I guess . . . you shouldn't be alone . . . if you want me to . . . Do you want me to?”
“Oh, yes.”
Anne turned away. “I'd better see about the fire. 'Cause you certainly can't be crawling around on the floor . . . on your hands and knees . . .”
“With a nice leather collar?”
“Oh, you! Damn that woman! Is it possible to wash your mind out with soap and water?”
“Speaking of soap and water . . . d'you think you could help me to the bathroom before you tackle the fire? I'd like to clean up a bit.”
“Oh, sure.”
Anne slid her shoulder under his arm and carefully pulled him to his feet. She slowly guided him to the bathroom and placed his hand on the sink for support.
“Will you be okay?”
“Yes, thank you. I'll be fine.”
She closed the door behind her and started toward the fire. She tried to remember what Will had done to get the fire going, but she had been distracted by his—anatomy—and hadn't been paying attention.
“Let's see—kindling . . . small logs . . . newspaper . . .”
Anne saw a crumpled piece of paper behind the poker thing and the tweezer-type thing. She picked it up and was ready to shove it under the kindling when she noticed it was notebook paper, rather than newspaper. Curious, she smoothed it out.
“Ode to Anne,” she read. She gently smoothed the paper as she read it twice; then carefully folded it and put it in her pocket. Where did he keep the old newspapers?
**********Niagara Falls
Alicia was trying on linen shorts in three different colors at Land's End. She knew she could never afford them. She bit her lip and wondered if she could get away with wearing a pair out of the store under her pants. Why did she have to wear the tight jeans today? Would the lines of the shorts show underneath? Probably. She wouldn't have any trouble with the electronic tag—slayer strength was good for something—but she'd better not chance it today. She could wear her loose pants tomorrow and maybe get all three pairs.
The lights flickered three times, warning shoppers that the mall would be closing soon.
Oh, shit! She hadn't been watching the time, and now she had less than fifteen minutes to get dressed and get all the way across town to the dojo. Her mom or her mom's friend, the 'watcher', would be there at nine o'clock sharp to pick her up, and if she was late she'd be grounded for sure! And she'd also blow a sweet alibi that should be good for at least another week or two before they found out she wasn't actually going to the stupid, smelly dojo.
Alicia dressed and regretfully handed all three pairs of shorts to the salesclerk as she left the dressing room.
“Gotta book!” she called to Heather. “See ya tomorrow.”
Placing both hands on the waist-high planter in the atrium, she vaulted over the rail, dropping to the ground floor and landing in a crouch. Much faster than the escalator! She grinned.
Alicia started jogging through the mall and hit the door bar, breaking into a run as she reached the parking lot. She ran across town, the ever-present noise of the Falls a counterpoint to the blood pumping through her veins and the sound of her heart thudding in her chest.
She reached the main thoroughfare with only minutes to spare. She darted through traffic, ignoring the blaring horns. Only a block from the dojo, she stopped for a second to catch her breath. She'd be just as busted if they caught her running up to the dojo all out of breath and panting.
Alicia bent over, clasping her trembling thighs, trying to get her breathing under control. She'd walk the last block to give her muscles a chance to cool down.
Straightening up, she wiped the sweat from her eyes and started as she noticed the woman standing motionless in front of her.
Another lost tourist, with her expensive fur coat, probably wanting directions to one of the big hotels. Well, Alicia didn't have time to be polite tonight.
She muttered, “Gotta go,” and tried to step around the woman.
The woman reached out and gripped Alicia's arm. Damn! Those skinny fingers had a grip like iron! But Alicia wasn't worried. She had slayer-strength, and if this rich bitch thought she could keep a slayer against her will, she was in for a big surprise. Alicia grabbed the woman's wrist and twisted. The bitch would be letting go . . . any . . . second . . . now. . .
Alicia stared at the woman. Why wasn't she letting go? Alicia should have been able to break her grip like that! And if those long twiggy fingers got broken in the process . . . too bad!
She raised her eyes to the woman's face. She had such beautiful . . . large . . . gray . . . eyes . . .
“Hullo, dearie. You're a new one, aren't you? All the lovely pink paper dollies . . . soft and ripe for the plucking. Like plums. He called me his ripe, wicked plum, you know. But you're not ripe. Still green. Like un-fermented wine. Oh well.”
“Who are you?”
“Don't you know? I'm the Snow Queen.”
Drusilla's face changed, and with the grace of a striking cobra, she buried her fangs in Alicia's neck.
Huh. There really are vampires. Oh, shit! My mom's gonna kill me!
Allowing the girl's lifeless body to sink to the ground, Dru ran her index finger over her chin and then popped it into her mouth.
“Ummm. Immature . . . bouquet not fully developed . . . but, she'll do!”
Dru returned to human face and wrapped her sable around her. She sighed. They didn't go over the Falls in barrels any more, and she couldn't find the souvenir shop with the talking dollies but . . . the food was delicious!
Dru tilted her head and her eyes softened and lost their focus. There was another little lamb in Toronto. Dru ran her tongue over her lips. Poor little lost dolly. Dru could taste her already.
*****************************************************************************************Continue to Chapter 14
Sword and Stake Home Gen/Ensemble Page Shippy (M/F) Page Slash (M/M) Page Short Stories Page
