Angel of Fire (con't)

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PART 4:

"So, big sister, where do you think your brilliant agent is now?" Marcellus D’Alimonte smirked as Keiara paced the floor before him.

Turning her head sharply towards her brother, Keiara shot daggers at him with her eyes. Her wine-coloured hair glowed behind her, making her look all the more menacing. "Don’t you get smart with me, little brother. YOU may be the heir, but remember, I’M the brains of this team."

Marcellus lazily hiked up a dark brow, emerald green eyes gleaming in a look that said, ‘Yeah, whatever.’ Verbally, he replied, "Uh-huh, so why are you wearing a hole into the carpet?"

"My agent just got delayed, that’s all," the made vampire said coolly, but there was an underlying panic that she just couldn’t mask.

His smug smile still firmly planted on his face, Marcellus shot back immediately, "For 4 hours? Yeah, I believe you. What did he do? Fall in love with one of the Daybreakers and decide to serenade her with Shakespearean poetry? Hah! I think he just couldn’t do the job. He’s either dead or in the Daybreaker’s hands. That is, unless he decided to betray us."

"Corin would NOT betray me!" Keiara screamed and suddenly, her beautiful face was only inches from her brother’s. Her violet-blue eyes glowed almost red in her fury as her chest heaved with angry breaths. "Corin would NEVER do that to me and you KNOW it, Marcellus." She said in a quieter voice, but still with that dangerous edge, punctuating the last word with added force.

So, Corin was the agent. Well, that changed everything. Marcellus knew that Keiara had had something going with the Lamia named Corin for a while now. How deep their feelings for each other went were anyone’s guess, but Marcellus had the idea that he had seriously underestimated them.

The male vampire shrank back almost imperceivably into the black leather chair he was in. With some effort, he managed to keep the terrified look from his eyes. Even after almost 800 hundred years with Keiara as his only companion, Marcellus was still scared silly of her. Really, all the teasing was just a way to cover up his fear. He had a feeling his sister knew this but let it go on for her amusement. And when she addressed him by Marcellus instead of Little Brother, Marcellus knew he was in trouble.

"Okay, all right, Keiara," Marcellus said, trying to keep his voice from quavering. His older sister’s face was still very close to his. "You’re right. I know Corin wouldn’t betray you. But you see, I didn’t know it was him that you sent. I thought it was some dumb werewolf or other."

Without answering, Keiara slowly stood upright once again, a stony glare still on her face. But was it just him, or did Marcellus think her eyes were just a little brighter in the lamplight? Those enigmatic eyes of hers seemed to glisten with a liquid sheen, but it couldn’t be so. His big sister never shed a tear and she was never afraid. She was strong, like a rock when her mind was made but maybe Marcellus had only thought this because he’d never really gotten to know her. There was a memory, trapped in the thick mist that encircled all of his human memories, of when Keiara wasn’t cold and malicious, but actually happy. There was the faint vision of her smile and the muddled sound of her laugh, both happy, not spiteful like nowadays. When had that all ended? Marcellus couldn’t remember, but it had certainly been a long time ago.

"Stop looking at me like that," a haughty voice broke into Marcellus’ reveries. It was his sister, of course, but as snobby as the voice sounded, it seemed fake. It didn’t have the conviction it usually had and Marcellus became immediately worried.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it," the dark haired vampire murmured. Meeting Keiara straight in the eyes, he offered the only consolation for his sister that he had, "Look, why don’t we go over the Daybreak safe house and see if they have Corin. If they do, we’ll get him back. And make sure the Daybreakers pay for inconveniencing us. You’d enjoy that, no?"

An unreadable expression flashed across Keiara’s face. Then, just as suddenly as the look had come, it was erased, exchanged for blood-thirsty agreement instead. "Not tonight," she said softly. "Tomorrow morning."

"Why?" Marcellus asked, puzzled. This wasn’t what he’d expected.

"I’m tired, little brother. I can’t pay the Daybreakers a PROPER visit in this state." Her underlying message was quite clear. She wanted to be fresh when she tortured them.

But this tiny piece of insight didn’t help the dark haired vampire a bit in his confused condition. "What about Corin?" was Marcellus’ question this time around. Had the last half hour been non-existent? Hadn’t Keiara been so half-crazed with worry over the Lamia that she had almost spilt her eight century old tears in front of her little brother? The same little brother that she had been so careful not to show any weaknesses in front of, lest he think she was inferior to him? She couldn’t have forgotten about Corin so quickly, could she?

"Don’t worry, little brother, I haven’t forgotten about Corin. Believe me, if they had done anything to him, I’d know and I’d be down there right now," she answered in that same quiet but powerful voice of hers. It was like she had read his mind and Marcellus repressed a shudder. He hoped she had only caught that last question.

Keiara was continuing, "But they haven’t done anything to Corin. They won’t until morning. We’ll be there before then. Now, you better get some rest, little brother. Tomorrow’s going to be a very interesting day."

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PART 5:

Standing on the balcony that lead out from his bedroom, Dion Vitani breathed in a great lung full of air. Ah, Monday morning. What a beautiful day. But something was amiss. The back of his mind told him he was forgetting something. Dion was just in the middle of another deep breath when he gagged and his memory came galloping back.

"Monday morning," he gasped out, "garbage collection day."

*Well, this just ruins the whole mood, doesn’t it?* Dion thought wryly as the large brown garbage truck came rumbling into sight. Sometimes he wished he wasn’t a werewolf. If that had been the case, at least he would have been able to enjoy the moment for a few seconds longer. But no. His acute sense of smell had to single out the stench of garbage this morning!

Of course, being a vampire wasn’t exactly a sunny walk in the park either. That Dion also knew first hand.

Ugh. He’d always hated half-breads. Ironic that he himself was one. Maybe it was the whole self-loathing thing going on.

Whatever, he didn’t have time to worry about that at the moment. If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late for the first day of school. Funny that under the whole tough guy exterior, Dion actually liked school. His father thought he was crazy, but then again, the only emotions he felt towards his son was resentment and disappointment anyway.

Drawing back indoors and away from the odious stench of the garbage truck, Dion quickly got dressed and slipped into the washroom across the hall. As quietly as possible, he washed up. There was no desire in him whatsoever to wake up his drunken father at the moment. "Hangover Dad" was not a pretty sight or personality to deal with. Definitely much worse than "Sober and Ignoring His Son, Dad".

Apparently, Dion wasn’t quiet enough. As he was approaching the top stair, a raspy voice called out from behind his father’s door, "You little leech! Where do you think you’re going? Get in here, NOW!"

Dion cringed at the awful voice, barking out orders between coughs and a closed door. The garbage truck might ruin the first part of a morning, but a word from his father was enough to ruin the whole week.

Hesitantly, he drew closer towards the closed door. Opening it to just a crack that he could pop his dark head through, Dion said softly, "Yes, sir?"

"What, are you some varmint mouse shifter? Hiding behind the door! Afraid of me? Goddess! You’re a werewolf, idiot. Act like one! For once in your life, make your old man proud, can’t you?" A short, pale faced man with thinning gray hair rasped out before dissolving into a fit of dry coughs.

"Y-yes, sir," Dion managed to stutter out, trying to hide the fear in his storm gray eyes.

"Get me some alcohol, you worthless ameba!" His father gasped breathlessly. "Can’t you see I’m choking here, you son of a b**ch!?"

"Yes, sir," Dion’s voice was just above a whimper as he addressed this drunk man, his father, who was hurling insults his way. Swiftly, he slipped out of the doorway, glad to finally get away.

Down in the kitchen, the chestnut haired boy surveyed the room in dismay. Empty beer bottles were strewn on the table and across the floor. Mysteriously, a stack of dirty dishes a foot high occupied the sink, where just last night, Dion was sure he’d washed them, and spots of spaghetti sauce had somehow found its way to the walls.

Almost too quickly for the eye to follow, the werewolf/vampire gathered all the empty bottles, piling them in the recycling bin. They added up to 15. Dion marveled that anyone could drink so much in one night. Goddess, the man was sick in body AND mind! Then, opening the refrigerator door, Dion hastily grabbed two more bottles of beer and soundlessly dashed up the staircase. The dishes and wall could wait for later.

"Damn it boy! I could have died twice in the time it took you to get back!" was the only thanks Dion got from his father as he handed him his alcohol. "Now get out of my face, brat," and he shooed his son away.

There was no argument there. Without another word or a glance back, Dion was out the door and on his way to school. There was nothing anyone could have done to make him stay a second more in that room anyway. He could only handle his dad in small doses. Too much and Dion’s mind would end up as damaged as Rafe Vitani’s.

Dion figured his dad must have been normal at one time or another, but he had almost no recollection of that whatsoever. He also had little recollection of a mother, for that matter. One day she had been there, reading him a bedtime story, the next, she had vanished. That was all he could remember of his mother. It was sad, he didn’t even miss her. How could he, when he had never really known her? You couldn’t miss something you didn’t know.

But this one tiny memory of his mother, this one vision, inspired other memories, most unhappy. His dad, once joyful and full of life, slowly sinking into depression and booze. The relatives, first coming to visit often after his mother’s death, but slowly fading away, one by one, as his dad’s moods scared them off. Dion himself, at 6 years old, trying to comfort daddy as he suddenly burst into sobs for no reason, getting only a smack in the face as a reward.

"Hey!"

The cry brought Dion out of his stupor and back into the world. Looking down, he realized he had run into a blue-haired girl of average height while in his zombie state. She was glaring at him with yellow feline-eyes (contacts) below her silver eyebrow ring.

Seeing the silver brow ring, Dion’s lip curled in distaste. For a second, he thought that he couldn’t imagine how people could stand anything silver piercing their body, but quickly remembered that she wasn’t one of his kind. However, the damaged had been done. The blue-haired girl took Dion’s curled lip for something else and stormed away, screaming about how all men were asses.

The chestnut haired werewolf rolled his eyes heavenward and let out a sigh. What a day this was turning out to be! First the garbage truck, then daddy dearest and now he was going around insulting people he’d never even met!

Oh, this was going to be a great day! Hah! Yeah, and the Goddess herself ate dinner with him every night.

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PART 6:

Immense violet-blue orbs were staring into his face when Nicholas Corona woke up early the next morning. He had been out cold all night and now he wished he still was. What a headache!

Seeing such an unknown sight right in his face, he screamed out in surprise.

A cool hand immediately snapped over his open lips, cutting his cry short. "Shut up, Angelface. Or do you wanted to go back to sleep again? "

Actually, Nick was thinking how nice it would be to fall asleep again, but he knew this woman in front of him didn’t mean he’d go back to LaLa Land naturally. Frankly, he wasn’t looking forward to the headache he was guaranteed after he awoke again, so he just settled with shutting up.

"Good. You’re a smart birdie. Maybe I’ll keep you as a pet later. What do you think, little brother?" The red-haired vampire slowly took her hand from Nick’s mouth and stared at him at full height without looking back at the person she had just addressed.

Deja-vu. The Dark Angel finally remembered where he had seen this girl before and who she was. Keiara D’Alimonte, the leader of the ambush on him last night. At least, this is what he assumed.

"A macaw as a pet, Keiara? No, I say we just roast him after all this is over. He’d be much too... gawky and raucous, as a pet."

Nick’s ocean blue eyes snapped towards the new voice coming from the doorway. An unbelievably tall and dark haired teen stood there, looking down with emerald green eyes of contempt. This, of course, had to be Marcellus D’Alimonte. Together, he and his sister made an infamous pair, in the same league as the Pharaoh or Braeden Soterios had been before he turned Daybreaker.

Keiara knelt down again in front of the Dark Angel and seemed to examine him. "Hmm... you’re right, little brother. He would be much too annoying as a pet." Then, towards Nick himself, she spoke, "I’ve heard about you, Angelface. Quite the reputation for a troublemaker you have. Seem to driving Lord Thierry up the wall with your antics. My commendments to you. However, just for the sake of fun and keeping OUR reputation how we like it, I think we’ll be ridding Circle Daybreak of one its headaches before the week is done. What do you think, Angelface?"

What sudden burst of insanity made him say it, Nick didn’t know, but he did. "For one," he started, "you could quit calling me, Angelface. The pet name isn’t becoming from your mouth."

Keiara was less than amused, but Nick plowed right on. "Second, do you suppose we could just erase that last part about ridding Circle Daybreak of a headache? I can assure you, Thierry’s headaches are almost non-existent! I only see him reach for that Aspirin every 3 hours now, a large improvement from the past 1 hour limit."

Marcellus had come to stand beside is older sister and they were now exchanging looks of amusement and mock pity. "I see we’ve got a comedian on our hands," the dark haired vampire observed with fake amiability laced in his low voice.

"Shut him up."

Keiara looked at her brother in annoyance. She obviously didn’t take orders from Marcellus. But for once, they were in complete agreement. The bird was getting to mouthy. He had to be muted.

*This should be simple enough,* Keiara thought as she remembered how easily Nick had gone down the night before. All she needed was a little blast and he’d be out without her using much energy at all. Attacking someone psychically had its toll and if she used her powers too much, Keiara wouldn’t be able to pay the Daybreakers a proper visit later on.

"Be careful," Marcellus warned lazily from the door as his sister readied her attack. "We need him alive for now and you have to be fresh to face the Daybreakers."

At that moment, Keiara could have ripped him to shreds. How could he be so STUPID?!?!

But the damage had been done. Nick had heard their plans for the day and not being half as stupid as his captor, he could piece together how he could prevent Keiara from hurting his friends. For today at least.

As the flame haired vampire shot her dark energy at him, Nick blocked it as well as he could. At first, it wasn’t hard. This time he was prepared. Besides, it was almost second nature to him, being a Dark Angel and having trained in blocking psychic energy.

However, things like this took their toll very quickly. Soon, he and Keiara both were exhausted and breathing hard. Rainbow coloured spots danced in front of Nick’s eyes and if he wasn’t sitting already, he would definitely be on the ground by now. He was experiencing Keiara’s full power and now realized why this pair was so feared by Night People.

Finally, Keiara broke her link and settled back on her heels. Marcellus had mysteriously materialized behind her once again and the female vampire unconsciously leaned back on his arm to catch her breath. As his sister slowly closed her violet-blue eyes, Marcellus trained his own bright green eyes on Nick. They were deep pools filled with annoyance and a promise of vengeance.

Seeing his expression, Nick knew he had seriously miscalculated the made vampire’s feelings towards his older sister. Who’d have guessed that they were actually CLOSE (in their own little way)? Just showed how much the Night World knew about their own childhood demons.

Suddenly, Marcellus’ eyes flashed with an unnatural emerald green hue. Then, just as quickly, Nick was once again in a world of darkness. He was unsure if this was his captor’s work or if he had just fainted from exhaustion, but he somehow knew that he had just saved his friends from these monsters.

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PART 7:

Carefully, Marcellus carried his sister back to her room in his arms. She had fallen asleep against him in Nick’s room, soon after the Dark Angel himself had blacked out.

Very softly, he set Keiara down on her bed, so as not to wake her. After that ordeal, she needed her rest. Marcellus himself could also use some sleep, he hadn’t psychically struck anyone in centuries and he had never been very good in the first place. But there were things to be taken care of, namely, the Daybreakers. Even if Keiara couldn’t go, he had to get Corin back for her, he had promised.

"Marcellus?" Keiara groaned as her eyelids fluttered open.

Marcellus quickly reverted his eyes from the blank spot he’d been staring at on the wall to Keiara’s face. Two times in two days she had called him Marcellus, he wondered if it was going to become a habit. It would certainly take some getting used to.

"Little brother, get out of here," Keiara ordered weakly, dashing all hopes of Marcellus’ hypothesis that she’d dump the ‘Little Brother’ title. "Give the Daybreakers what they’ve asked for and get Corin back for me while you’re at it. I swear, I’m really going to hurt that bird for making me miss this, but this time, it can’t be helped," she added as an afterthought.

Marcellus didn’t move. He just sat on the edge of the bed, looking down with a gaze worthy of a seasoned doctor.

"Stop looking at me like that!" Her hair caught the morning sunlight as she struggled to sit up and made it look like the blood coloured leaves in autumn. She was gaining strength every minute that her anger escalated. But it wouldn’t be enough to fight the Daybreakers. "Little brother, now you listen to me! Get out of here! I can take care of myself."

"I know you can take care of yourself," Marcellus replied evenly, brushing a lock of tar black hair out of his eyes. No amount of sunlight could change the colour as much as it metamorphosed Keiara’s. "I was just wondering how long you could take care of the bird by yourself."

"What are you talking about?"

"I’m saying I have a plan. It’s probably the first time you haven’t helped me a bit and I’d have to say it’s pretty good."

"Well, then spill and tell me what it is. We don’t have time to waste."

Marcellus held up his hands in a look of defeat. "Okay, okay, cool it. Here’s what I’m thinking. As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think I can take all the Daybreakers on myself. So, I propose that I go to them pretending that I’ve joined their side. With Braeden and Delos and Quinn all rushing to join their elite little crowd, I don’t think they’ll be too hard to convince. This way, I can be in their midst for a long period of time, get inside information AND free Corin quite easily. What do you think?"

For most likely the first time in their long lives, Keiara looked at her brother with respect in her eyes. "I think you’re depending a bit too much on their innocence, little brother, but if you can get them to believe your story, I’m gung-ho for the plan."

"Oh, don’t worry, I can make them believe," Marcellus assured with a dark smile. "Perhaps I might even find it amusing to seduce Destiny or Leandra. Now won’t that be a trip? Won’t our little Angel be happy to hear about that?"

A thrilled laugh burst from Keiara’s throat. She definitely approved. But no matter how much she agreed with the plan, she couldn’t be too easy on Marcellus. It would make him think she’d gotten too soft. "Just hurry up and beat it out of here, little brother. Prove to me you’re not just a pile of hot air and bullshit. Shoo! Shoo, get out!" Her small hands gestured regally as she ordered Marcellus out of her room.

"Alright, okay, I’m goin’. I’m goin’. Hey, stop hitting me!" The green eyed vampire pleaded feebly, with laughter in his voice as his sister started whipping pillows his way. With the speed that only a desperate man could muster, he ran out of the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him. Leaning against it to catch his breath, Marcellus finally let forth the laughter he’d been holding in. On the other side of the door, Keiara was also doubling over with laughter.

Suddenly, Marcellus came to an abrupt stop. What was going on? Was he actually HAPPY? And was that HIS sister giggling like a schoolgirl on the leeward side of the door? It had been so long since he had actually felt good inside he’d forgotten the feeling. He liked it, but why was he in this state right NOW? Nothing different had happened as far as he was concerned.

No, wait. Something different had gone on. Keiara had admitted a weakness. Maybe not directly, but she had proven she wasn’t a heartless stone. She cared about someone, Corin.

A strange sensation welled up behind Marcellus’ eyes and his happiness was forsaken. *It should be me," he thought bitterly. *Keiara should care about ME. Like old times."

"Wait, what am I talking about?" Marcellus muttered, blinking away his tears as he realized what he had just thought. Where had that come from? Old times of happiness didn’t exist to him.

Shaking his head to clear away the last of the cobwebs remaining from that strange feeling of memory, Marcellus let himself out the front door, grabbing his leather jacket on the way. He couldn’t dwell on a past he didn’t know, there were more pressing matters for him to take care of. In the real world.

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